#club owner

[jhsharman]

the star

Coloring error made in post.

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 1

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Series Masterlist | Part 2

Chapter Summary: You encounter an unexpected visitor in your home.

Chapter Word Count: Over 2.8k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, breaking and entering, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, flashback, possessiveness, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: Welcome to the Turn It Up AU! Thanks to @starlightcrystalline for helping bringing this unhinged Bucky to life and @targaryenvampireslayer and @tavners for the support. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You yawned as you flipped on the light switch in your apartment and set the keys on the table. It was early, but you were ready to settle in for the night after a busy shift. Maybe you could make a cup of tea and curl up with a book to unwind after dinner. Or maybe even a nice, hot bath and a glass of wine.

If only Addison could hear your thoughts now. She’d tease you for not living it up and enjoying the single life. Nothing new.

Your mouth fell open as you walked into the living room, but no sound came out as you skidded to a stop. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest and plummeted to your stomach at the same time as your phone fell from your hand. It was like you couldn't breathe. Because a man was sitting on your sofa.

And you lived alone.

“What…” you exhaled, no louder than a whisper.

The man didn't speak as he stared at you. He didn't even blink. The staring contest gave you a moment to take in his appearance. Intimidating even though he was sitting, his dark suit looked tailored to perfection on his broad frame. Dark brown hair framed his face and matched the stubble on his face, with the exception of a few gray hairs. The dangerous glint in his hard blue eyes did little to put you at ease, but there was something soft there as well.

In any other circumstance, you would've said he was handsome.

You bent down to pick up your phone before he let out a tsk, a subtle warning for you not to try anything. “Who are you? Why are you in my home?” You asked as you straightened up, hoping your tone didn't betray how terrified you were.

Nothing looked out of place. If he was there to rob you, there wasn't much worth taking. While you weren't struggling, you were far from rich.

He smirked and leaned back further into the cushion, his eyes roving over your body. You hadn't noticed right away, but the hand draped on the back of the sofa appeared to be metal. Or was it a glove? He didn't have to stand for you to know he was larger than you. If things got physical, you wouldn't stand a chance.

“Okay…” If he wasn't going to give you any sort of answer or clue as to who he was or why he was there, you’d just leave. You could go to a neighbor’s place or Addison’s to call the cops. But he didn't seem to like it when you took a step back since he pinned you with a glare and crooked his finger, beckoning you to go to him.

Your legs wobbled with the first step, but you righted yourself as you continued to move forward. If he noticed your misstep, he didn't acknowledge it. You swallowed, worried that bile would rise to your throat from how sick you felt when you stopped in front of him. That feeling only grew when he leaned in to grip your waist and roughly pulled you toward him.

A scream escaped this time around, but his hand clamped over your mouth to smother the sound. The cold fear that trickled down your spine would stick with you for days to come as he pulled you onto his lap and shook his head with another tsk. There was no mistaking the evident lust in his gaze as his eyes bore into yours.

What was he going to do to you?

You put your hands on his shoulders to push yourself away, but the hand on your hip held you tighter. You squirmed in his lap before you brushed against the outline of his cock, your body stiffening when he let out a low groan. With wide eyes, you decided moving wasn't a wise decision.

“Keep moving your hips if you want, but don't scream again,” he warned, his deep voice rumbling from his chest as you breathed through your nose. “There’s time for that later.”

Blood rushed to your ears as your heart pounded faster. You wished you could've stopped the tears from filling your eyes, but you weren't that strong. Was he going to hurt you? Kill you? If so, why?

The brunette cooed as a tear slid down your cheek. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? But I will gag you if I remove my hand and you scream again,” he promised, his tone lighter than a moment ago. “Blink once if you promise not to scream.”

You blinked, another tear falling from your eye.

A pleased look crossed his face when he removed his hand and you complied. “Good girl,” he whispered and you ignored the new kind of shiver that rolled down your spine. “I didn't mean to startle you, but I couldn't wait any longer to see you.”

You exhaled as he used his thumb to wipe the tears away, your body still stiff as you focused on trying to stay calm. Couldn't wait to see you? You had never seen this man before in your life. “Who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Bucky Barnes. And don't worry. I already know your name.” He smirked as he rested his hand on your cheek. You managed not to flinch at his calloused touch. “Did you have fun at my club?”

Confusion flickered in your gaze. “What?”

“My club, The 107th. I own it. Did you have fun?” He asked again, looking at you expectantly.

The 107th was the most luxurious and expensive nightclub in the city. Chic and glamorous in design with a friendly staff who waited on people hand and foot, you felt like royalty as you hung out in the VIP section. The upscale venue wasn't one you frequented often. In fact, you had only been once.

For Addison’s bachelorette party.

“Y-Yeah,” you replied, still confused as to what he wanted. “It’s a nice club.”

He hummed, his thumb brushing across your trembling lip. “I’m glad to hear it, but you didn't seem to have as much ‘fun’ as your friends. Did you?”

You nursed your drink as you gazed out at the dancefloor from your seat. The place was packed, the strobe lights flashing over the crowd in various hues as they grinded to the beat. You adjusted the hem of your short black dress as you debated going out to dance. You decided against it since you weren't looking to hook up.

“Come on! Another shot!” Addison yelled, adjusting her tiara on her head. She was lucky the “bride to be” sash was still on straight. “Shot, shot, sh-sh-sh-shot!”

You giggled as she plopped down beside you. “I did a shot. I'm fine,” you hollered back.

Your best friend grumbled something you couldn't make out as she put her head on your shoulder. “But you aren't even driving.”

“I don't want to deal with a hangover tomorrow,” you argued, thanking the server as she brought another bottle.

“Ugh. If you won't drink, at least get laid,” Addison whined a little. “You're wearing a slutty black dress and everything.”

You looked around at the group. Addison was the only one in white since she was the bride. Everyone else wore black. They looked great, but you weren't dressed to get any sort of attention.

“Yeah! Get fucked!” Dana shouted.

“Is that encouragement or an insult?” You teased, glancing at the small blinking light in the corner of the VIP section. You didn't notice it before.

“Raise your hand if you think our girl should get laid!” Addison announced, raising her hand high and spilling some of her drink on the seat. “Whoops.”

The group raised their hands as you attempted to clean up the small mess. “I’m not hooking up with anyone tonight,” you said to their disappointment. “This night isn't about me and my love life.”

“Your love life? Babe, it doesn't exist!” Addison grabbed your left hand and held it up to stare at your bare ring finger. “I don't get it. You're the only one not engaged or married yet. And you're, like, the sweetest one in our group. And you're so pretty! It’s not fair that you don't have a man. You deserve one.”

“And sex!” Dana chimed in. “You deserve lots of sex!”

You gently pulled your hand away and pushed down the sadness that surfaced at the reminder that you were the only single one left of your friends. You didn't know why you hadn't met the right one yet. It wasn't like your standards were too high and you were a good, loyal partner. You wouldn't say you were supermodel gorgeous, but you were pretty. You knew how to have a good time.

Right?

Addison's lip wobbled when she saw the look on your face. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m sorry. I didn't mean anything by it,” she rambled, hugging you from the side. “I just want you to have what Brady and I have. I want someone to love you.”

Guilt crept in before you shook your head and flashed your best smile. You know she wasn't trying to make you feel bad and you didn't want to ruin her night. “And one day, I will. Someone will love me the way Brady loves you and I’ll love him, too,” you assured her, giving the other girls a shrug and wishing they'd stop with the pitying stares. “Shots?”

“Shots!”

Your eyes briefly went back to the blinking light before you put a small smile back on your face. Addison was having fun and that was what mattered. You could worry about yourself and your feelings tomorrow.

“I’m sorry, but did my friends and I do something wrong?” You asked, dodging his question. You booked and paid for the section well in advance. Your group danced around in the area, and behaved overall and kept to yourselves. The server got a nice tip at the end of the night.

So what was the matter?

“Not at all,” he said, tilting his head. “I’m just sorry I couldn't introduce myself to you that night.”

“I don't understand. You broke into my home just so you could introduce yourself to me?” You asked as he traced small circles on your hips, the motion making your head spin a little. “How do you even know where I live?”

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, before he got serious again. “I have my ways. And I can be a little intense and forward at times, but you’ll get used to it,” he said, your eyes wide again. What was wrong with this man?

“Okay, Bucky,” you said slowly, seeing something wicked flash in his eyes when you said his name. “Being intense and forward doesn't excuse breaking into my home. And since my friends and I didn't do anything wrong at your club and you formally introduced yourself, I think it's time for you to leave.”

A second passed before he shook his head. “No, doll. It’s time for you to get the love life and man you deserve.”

Fingers brushed your throat as you struggled to take your next breath. “What did you say?”

“I'm going to take you out to dinner tomorrow so you can get to know me and you’re going to wear the dress I bought for you,” he explained as if he didn't hear you, nodding toward the hall. “It’s waiting for you in your bedroom and, yes, it’s your size.”

How did this man have the nerve and how long had he been in your place? “You went into my room? You-”

“And I bought you that perfume you recently ran out of. I know how much you love it. I know everything about you,” he continued, running his nose along your neck as your blood ran cold. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun together.”

You moved back, desperate to get away as your stomach twisted. He didn't let you get far, easily yanking you close again. How did he know anything about you? How did you catch his eye?

The blinking light in the corner of the VIP section …

“And if I say no?”

Bucky pulled back, his eyes calculating as he studied you. “I’m not going to force you into going out with me. It’s your choice to say yes or no, but I want you to think carefully about that choice.”

Dread pooled in your gut. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I obviously know where you live and I can get in and out undetected,” he pointed out. You wondered now if this was the first time he had been in your place. “I also know where your friend Addison and her fiancé, Brady, live.”

A wounded sound escaped at the thought of anything happening to your friends. “Please, leave them alone.”

“And the shop you work at, I know where it’s located. Those floral arrangements you make are stunning. Your boss even gave you a raise recently. You should be proud,” he smiled.

Your eyes watered again. The man was certifiably insane. Maybe this was a sick joke or a bad dream. Soon you'd wake up in your bed.

But the iron grip on your body reminded you that this was very real.

He waved a hand dismissively. “But we both know you’ll make the right choice because you're a good girl… a smart girl,” he said like he hadn't just threatened your friends or livelihood. “Just take the night to think it over. Have a glass of wine and draw yourself a nice bath while you do.”

He surprised you by moving you from his lap to the sofa. His hands and eyes lingered on you momentarily before he released you and stood up. Towering over you, he gave you a tender smile as he buttoned his jacket.

“I’m going to lock the door behind me when I leave and I’ll be back tomorrow at 7pm so you can give me your answer. And if you try and tell anyone I was here tonight, I’ll know about it,” he said, grasping your chin when you tried to look away. “It’s taking all of my control not to drag you to bed, but I can wait a little longer.”

Fear prickled the back of your neck as you tensed up. “You couldn't just ask me out like a normal person?”

You almost regretted asking when he narrowed his eyes, but he huffed out a laugh. “Where's the fun in that?” He winked as you shrank back in your seat. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. I won't hurt you. And you know what? I just thought of something. You still need a plus one for the wedding. I’m free. I’ll get a suit to match your bridesmaids’ dress. We’ll look perfect together. And Addison will be so happy that you aren't going alone.”

His tone was light and happy like it was a suggestion and not an order, but the ferocity in his gaze had you trembling. “Why are you doing this?” You asked above a whisper.

“Because I want you and I get what I want,” he said as a matter of fact, releasing your chin. “Like I said, it's time for you to get the love you deserve. And I know you'll give it to me in return.”

It was like your spirit floated out of your body as he bent down to kiss your forehead. You couldn't move or speak. Was this what shock felt like? Or was it complete and utter fear?

You stared ahead as he picked up your phone and unlocked it with your passcode. He knew that, too? “Can’t leave without giving you my phone number,” he smiled, putting his information in before he set the device down. You didn't respond. Once he was gone you could scream and cry. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of breaking down in front of him. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, 7pm. Get some rest. You'll need it.”

Even as he left you alone and locked the door behind him as promised, you didn't move from your spot as tears streamed down your cheeks. You didn't dare go to your bedroom to see the gifts he left for you, your hand shaking as you wiped at your face. The scent of his cologne lingered, as did his touch. It was like his shadow covered you, leaving you cold and afraid. Your home was no longer safe.

You weren't safe.

With his subtle threat looming over your head, you’d have no choice but to go out with him. Maybe he’d get bored of you quickly and move on. Or maybe not. You had no way of knowing. All you knew was that your average life was upheaved by the owner of The 107th.

And you were going to be his girl whether you liked it or not.

Bucky isn't wasting time. Where is he taking you on your first date? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[xskyll]

Can't tell you how much I appreciate Tamaki and his dog having the same crying sound effects. Plub.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Masterlist✨

Club Owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Summary: After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Pairing: club owner/pleasure dom! Joel x fem! reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Tags: No outbreak au, unprotected p in v, oral, praise kink, face riding, porn with plot, thigh riding, club owner! Joel, Joel stays being a menace, fingering, mutual pining, semi public sex, teasing, longing, masterbation, feelings, Joel calls reader angel, lots of sweet nicknames, some angst, will update with each chapter

“Infra-Red, I know that you're burning up for me. Fire in your bloodstream. Moving through you at light-speed. I see you, I see you in Infra-Red. The heat and the light in the way you move. Like nobody else is in the room. I see you, I see you.”

- “Infra-Red” by Three Days Grace

Part 1: Introductions

Part 2: The First Taste

Part 3: Take It All

Part 4: Meet Me in the Library

Part 5: Just Stay

Part 6: Keep Me From Falling

Part 7: Epilogue

One-shot: Angel’s Place (Takes place before the epilogue)

Art commission of Angel and Joel

[angrelysimpping]

Soul Mate AU

Soulmarks: tattoo like in appearance, soul marks form on all involved parties when the youngest member reaches their age of majority. Touching someone's soulmark without their consent is considered incredibly taboo and violating. Touching someone’s soulmark when baring the matching mark is supposed to be incredibly pleasurable for all parties involved, more so if it is the two marks that are touching.

ref link, tho I'm gonna put the same soulmark descriptions under each character anyway 

Contents: DoL relationships; Avery's anger issues; public stuff; doctor/patiant, mildly; talk of cutting (Kylar's section); teacher/student, mildly; farm fuckery (aka, Remy's whole fucking section); cat Bailey AU; FUCT Robin AU; Yandere Avery AU; Eldritch PC AU

Words: 2608

Alex

(93)

Geometric shapes. Bold, dark lines. Elbow to shoulder on their right arm. 

Loves touching your soulmark. Loves you touching their soulmark. Loves all of it.

Higher dominance Alex is likely to brush their hand down your soul mark whenever they have the chance. Even if it might be considered “rude” to do so in front of others. 

Lower dominance waits for more private moments. A teasing stroke over your mark while shielded from prying eyes, shivering if you return the favor and ghost a hand over their mark. 

Loves cuddling in the morning, pressed against each other, absentmindedly tracing the lines of your matching marks. 

Avery

(153)

Thin, delicate, lace like lines across their collar bones. Ends in thick, jagged lines going down their sternum 

God, there’s so much pressure on you to act absolutely perfect if you actually want Avery to let you walk around with a matching mark. 

That said, they like touching your mark.

At low anger, they’re tender, tips of their fingers gliding over the marks. 

They may even let you touch their marks, though not often. It’s very rare for Avery to allow it. Something about you touching their marks makes them feel out of sorts, out of control. So, it’s only when they’re drained from work that they indulge in the lazy pleasure of allowing you to take care of them in this way. A hand tucked between their legs and your tongue tracing their marks. 

High rage Avery presses down on your marks hard enough to make your vision blur, pain mixed into the act that would normally bring pleasure. But, you won’t make them do that too often, will you? 

Bailey

(215)

Thin lines that crisscrosses their lower stomach in an intricate pattern and circles around their upper thighs. 

It’s a stupid situation, trying to wrangle one of their brats in their own fucking office, it that’s Bailey’s life: stupid situation after stupid fucking situation.

Except when you headbutt their stomach, shirt having ridden up from the physical activity, and your skin brushes over the marks that had only recently bloomed across their skin, it somehow gets worse. 

What do you mean that the pain they brace themself for never comes? Or, it does, but mostly covered in strange euphoria. 

But, Bailey knows what that means, new anger sparking within them and fueling their ability to pin you down, to tear at your clothes, to expose your mark. 

Your mark that matches Bailey’s.

And they press down on it, thumbs digging into the soft of your thighs as you squirm under them. They hope you feel more pain than pleasure.

They have to keep you, they think. Who knows how you could be used against them if others find out? 

And what are you to them, anyway? Important, one way or another, apparently.

So, fuck you. 

Varey rarely touches your marks after that and forbids you from touching their’s.

Yet, sometimes, you’ll wake up with Bailey’s hands pressed against the mark, palm flat and fingers splayed, dark eyes fixed on that point of contact.

Briar

(108)

One thick line running over the knuckles on their right hand. 

Oh, new lil star walking into Briar’s lovely establishment with marks that match the one that just recently bloomed across their knuckles. How interesting. 

Enjoys taking your hand in theirs, ringed thumb rolling over the mark on your knuckles, watching you shiver at such a simple action. 

Especially likes touching your marks in public and letting others see how it affects you. 

That said, not keen on you doing the same to them. When especially tense, they don't mind the pad of your thumb following the line across the ridges of their knuckles while in their office. Lets their head tilt back, eyes shutting as their muscles relax. 

Black Wolf

(83)

Jagged marks under their left eye

It's actually quite easy to overlook their mark, looking almost like a scar. 

Brushing your thumb over the mark has Black Wolf relaxing, regardless of if they’re the alpha or not.

When they’re the alpha, they’ll climb on top of you, rutting against your thigh as you trace the mark.

When you’re the alpha, they roll over, wanting you to straddle them as your fingers linger.

As for them, they like licking your mark, regardless of how close to your eye it is.

Darryl

(88)

A thick ring around their left pinky

So nervous when they realize they share a mark with you. 

Covers up their own mark and it takes them a while to build up the courage to tell you that you have matching marks.

Very gentle the first time they touch your mark, asking if it’s okay in a voice barely above a whisper, fine tremor running through their hands.

Nervous when you first touch their mark, but doesn’t regret it a bit.

Likes hooking your pinkies together, a cross between holding hands and a pinky promise. 

Doren 

(103)

Looks like the letters of a dead language encircling their right wrist. 

Will not let you touch it in public, and that goes double when at school.

Also won’t touch your mark in public.

Well, they might if it’s to calm you down if you’re having a particularly rough day, though behind the privacy of a closed door or secluded corner.

Very gentle when they touch your mark, brushing over your wrist like it’s something fragile, breakable. 

Only really allows you to touch their mark when at their apartment, though if you’re holding hands then it’s easy to pretend that it’s an accident if you press your marks together and make Doren stumble a little.

Eden

(139)

Thick, almost painful looking lines over their left breast and going up their neck. Stops under their jaw. 

Don’t touch their marks. 

Don’t do it.

Even though you bare their match, their mirror, do not touch Eden’s marks.

At least, not until they trust you.

Even then, you’re risking your ass to touch Eden’s marks.

They like it, though it feels incredibly vulnerable, thus, don’t do it.

You can get away with it during sex, usually. Unless they’re punishing you. Then you’re gonna get slapped. 

Also more likely to get away with touching their marks when they’re falling asleep, little shiver of pleasure running through them as they drift off.

All this said, they’re touching your marks whenever the fuck they want.

Especially loves grabbing you by the chin and rubbing their thumb along the marks under your jaw. Double so if you’ve been acting like a brat. A good reminder that you’re theirs, no matter what. 

Great Hawk

(59)

Small intersecting circles under their right eye.

Please touch their marks.

So proud of their marks now that they’ve come in and they adore you paying any attention to them.

Chirps every time you touch them, all puffed up.

Often nuzzles your marks. Loves brushing against them with their feathers. 

Favorite time to have their marks touched or to touch your marks is when flying together.

Gwylan 

(75)

Very complex markings running down the length of their spine. 

It’s rare for their marks to be visible and is at a loss for words when they find out you wear their match.

Doesn’t really like them touched, to be honest. It’s weirdly intense, with it being along their spine and all. 

Only really likes it if you run a feather light finger down their spine. Not too much pressure, just enough for them to feel it. 

Also not big on touching your marks, either. 

Harper

(102)

Thin, barely noticeable spirals on their tongue.

God they're so fucking ecstatic to touch your mark at all fucking times. 

Every time you see Harper, they wanna check your tongue, rubbing their thumb over the marks. 

You're really lucky they haven't yet found a way to do away with the gloves yet when in the hospital. 

If you're ever in the asylum, they're not wearing gloves.

Would adore you touching their marks if they weren't on their tongue. Makes it kinda hard to remain “professional.”

That said, when they get to kiss you or coach you into kissing them, they nearly cream their pants from your soul marks touching. 

Kylar

(80)

Soft, faded looking lines that weave up their right arm like tendrils. Starts at their wrist, ends at their elbow. 

Touch!

Kylar's!

Marks!

Please!

Touching each others marks calms them down so fast.

Aggravates their jealousy like nothing else if you refuse to let them touch your marks. 

Always gets a soft look in their eyes when touching marks. 

Babbles about it when hysterical, rubbing your marks almost painfully hard. Why are you acting like this when there's proof right here that you are meant for them?

Maybe they should make sure your marks are deeper, more prominent, with their knife…

Leighton 

(109)

Bands around their right knee

They’ll know you’re soulmates long before you do.

And they’re not telling you, either.

Likes the spark of fear in your eyes when their hand first cups your knees, the confusion when pleasure runs up your spine when their thumb brushes the mark. 

Lets you stew, thinking something wrong  with you, like you’re a pervert for feeling pressure when Leighton, someone who isn’t your soulmate, touches your mark.

Would probably let you go on like that for a while, only revealing it as a power play. 

Doesn’t want you just randomly grabbing at their mark, but likes when you place your hand on their mark when giving them head.

Mason

(77)

Looks like gills on either side of their neck. 

Don’t touch their marks.

Don’t touch them at school. 

Don’t look at them.

Don’t acknowledge they’re your soulmate.

Their authority as a teacher is already undermined by their age and now this? One of their students is their soulmate?

Please say this is a bad joke. 

But, at the pond, when they’ve gotten to know you, maybe. 

Lets their eyes close as your fingers brush over them.

Hesitant on touching your marks but will if you insist. 

Remy

(161)

Small, dark spots behind their left ear. Some might say it's a cow print pattern. 

Fuck you.

They’ll never notice it if you drop into the riding school. Nor if you’re just Alex’s silly little partner.

No, the only way Remy finds you’re soulmate is during new cattle intake. 

And they’re pissed.

They’re always wearing their gloves, so at least you don’t react when they find it.

They’ll keep you in the dark about your matching marks. 

And then they keep you isolated until they figure out what the fuck to do with you.

Obedient cattle will find out eventually when they tug their gloves off, cupping your face and letting their thumb brush over your marks while you eat an apple out of their other hand.

Disobedient cattle find out when Remy has finally had it with you, ripping off their gloves and pressing their thumb against your marks so hard that it's more pain than pleasure, making your knees buckle and your will to fight flicker. 

Regardless, they won’t let you touch their marks. 

Robin

(85)

Thin, soft, intricate swirls in the middle of their chest. 

IT’S THEIR FAVORITE THING.

It’s so comforting, their best friend sharing their soulmark.

Huge boost of confidence anytime one of you touches the others marks.

Very flustered the first time due to the placement but gets more comfortable with it as time goes on.

Not big on touching soulmarks in public but only because of the placement. 

Low confidence Robin might be persuaded to touch soulmarks in semi public areas.

High confidence Robin might try to persuade you to touch soulmarks in semi public areas. 

Sydney 

(98)

Two thin lines starting at their shoulder blades and ending at their hips. 

Even though soulmarks are considered a divine symbol of love between partners, Sydney is hesitant to touch yours or let you touch theirs.

The higher their purity, the more likely they are to wait until you two are bound by the temple before touching soulmarks.

The more corrupt they become, the more likely it is that you can coax Sydney into taking off their shirt and letting you trace the marks on their back.

At their most corrupt, Sydney will slip their hand up the back of your shirt in somewhat public places to stroke over your marks. 

Whitney

(126)

Fluid, swirling lines on the inside of their right thigh. 

I hope you like wearing skirts ‘cause Whitney wants you in one at all times so they can hike it up and grab at your marks. 

And they will do that wherever they feel like.

At low dominance, they’ll stop if you tell them to at least?

Also, if you don’t wear a skirt, they’ll try to get their hands down your pants whenever they feel like messing with you and your marks.

And hey, Whitney is your soulmate. Shouldn’t you want to do shit that’ll make ‘em happy?

That’s what they’ll say, anyway.

As for touching their marks, they’ll only let you when alone. 

Even at low dominance, they’ll try to smack your hands away if you try to touch their marks when out public. 

Wren

(89)

Small swirls on their left ankle. Easily mistaken for an actual tattoo instead of a soul mark. 

Likely to kick off their shoes and press their foot against your mark under the table while playing blackjack as a way to distract you.

Gets flustered if you do it back to them, but tries to hide it behind wide smiles and low laughs.

Does sometimes daydream about having you laying under them, holding your foot, thumb brushing over your marks before dragging your leg over their shoulder and ducking down to give you head.

But, as your relationship is, it’s limited to playing footsie during card games.

BONUS

Cat Bailey

(83)

A bit better about touching marks but still isn't big on it.

Purrs every time you brush against their marks but don't ever mention that you noticed. 

It's really when they go into heat/rut that things change. They're more likely to grab at your marks, to press you against their's. 

Don't ever mention how sometimes you'll wake up to find Bailey resting with their cheek against the marks on your stomach, eyes closed, purr rumbling in their chest and tail flicking lazily. 

Fuct Robin

(68)

Less into soul mark touching, really.

Sure, they still like it, but it makes them feel out of sorts, like they’re still the fresh 18 year old in a cramped orphanage room fumbling around with their partner they were when you first got your matching marks. 

Though, they’re much more touchy with your marks. Likes sleeping with a hand pressed to the marks on your chest. Stops nightmares.

Yandere Avery

(89)

Hope you don't get cold easily because Avery isn't allowing you to wear anything that covers your marks when you're home. 

Out and about, they make you cover up more, but any passerby can tell your marks match. What, you didn't think you were leaving the house without them, did you?

Touchs your marks all the time: right when they wake up, when they first get home after work, before falling asleep. All. The. Time. 

Also more likely to touch your marks out in public, but only very rarely. 

Eldritch PC

(71)

The soul marks have added tentacle motifs now, lol.

More intense for when your partner touches you.

Doesn’t mind the intensity: 

Alex

Darryl

Doren

Eden

Great Hawk

Leighton

Robin

Pure Sydney

Cat Bailey

Yandere Avery

Less likely to touch because of the intensity:

Avery

Bailey

Briar

Black Wolf

Gwylan

Mason

Remy

Whitney

Fuct Robin

Likes the intensity: 

Harper

Kylar

Corrupt Sydney

Whitney

Wren

Black Wolf

Great Hawk

Fuct Robin

Yandere Avery

[hotdogstandz]

Getting out of the house might help…

[witchywithwhiskey]

dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

breaker, breaker 🎙️ and welcome to a universe of dirty filthy truckers

in this masterlist you'll find all my fics, series, drabbles, thoughts and headcannons about the dirty filthy men who inhabit this trucker universe, and links to individual series masterlists. everything in this universe is tagged #trucker au on my blog.

trucker Ari Levinson series: trucker king (series masterlist)

summary: after you're stranded on the side of the road, you're picked up by a truck driver who expects to be repaid for his kindness.

part 1

part 2 (epilogue)

part 3

truckers Jake Jensen, Andy Barber and Lee Bodecker are introduced in trucker friends

summary: you overhear Ari talking to his friends on the CB radio and he's determined to make sure they know who you belong to.

read here

trucker Jake Jensen series: trucker prince charming (series masterlist to come)

summary: your favorite trucker visits the glory holes at the strip club where you work, and he's determined to finally make you his.

part 1

part 2

trucker Andy Barber series: untitled

introduction thoughts

how Andy likes to be greeted when he gets home thoughts

trucker Walter Marshall series: untitled

introduction thoughts

club owner Ransom Drysdale series: untitled

introduction thoughts

other characters in this universe

trucker au August Walker

trucker Bucky is gonna be scary

trucker Freezy

trucker Bucky Barnes (these thoughts are going to become Lee's story)

trucker Lee Bodecker

other Henry Cavill characters

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 018: Murphy's Law

You’re only against a handful of things. Of course, the one time you go to bed angry, shit hits the fan.

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

* = somewhat smutty chapters ** = smut chapters

author's note: 2/23/2024 — i don't want you guys to suffer too much, so the last two chapters will be released tomorrow 2/24/2024. i love you guys, thank you for tuning in ♥️

CW: i don't wanna spoil anything, so this whole chapter is a trigger warning. please be mindful of this before reading; ps thank you to @freckledjoes for letting me use this picture of barron/"steve"

word count: 1.3k words

♡

“I’m Natalia, who are you?”

“I’m...Shy Girl,” you narrow your eyes. “My boyfriend Eddie lives here.”

You've never been good at math. But it doesn't take putting 2 and 2 together to realize that — the car in Eddie's spot this morning — belongs to the Nancy look-alike in front of you.

And if you looked too fast, you would've thought that she WAS Nancy. But the strapless tube top, lettuce-trim booty shorts, and lacy black tights on a cold December morning rule out that possibility.

Your eyes trail over to Steve in the background, frantic and sweaty, hairy chest out on display as he shuffles around to find a shirt to throw on. You clear your throat, meeting Natalia’s blue eyes one more time before speaking again.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Oh no girl, you're fine!" the busty brunette chirps, when she realizes you're no longer a threat to her. "I was just heading out. I guess his roomie is going to be back any second now."

Doing your best to conceal your laughter, you step off to the side to allow Steve's booty call to get her things and scoot out the door. Steve watches awkwardly, leaning against the doorway and flashing Natalia a smile as he watches her get to her car safely.

You wait until she’s out of earshot to speak to him.

“Natalia.” you sing with a smirk. “Really?”

“Don’t make that face.”

“What face?”

“The one you’re making right now, Hargrove. Don’t start.”

Your eyes venture down to the faint bite marks on Steve’s neck. You turn around to look at the doppelgänger one last time, giving her a wave as she drives away.

“Not starting anything,” you insist. “I just think it’s funny.”

He knows what you’re thinking and it doesn’t help his case. Steve steps off to the side, inviting you in. After closing the door behind you, Harrington gestures towards the box in your hand.

“Whatchu got there?”

“Apology cupcakes for Eddie,” you explain. “I was a real bitch to him yesterday so I decided to bake him something to compensate.”

You spent all night guilt-baking, hoping to win Eddie back with the cute vanilla cupcakes topped with sad red frowns on them, followed by a homemade card that reads, "I'm sorry for pushing you against the wall". Expecting Steve to find it adorable, he offers you a rather confused reaction instead.

"…Eddie didn’t stay over last night?” he asks with a cocked brow.

Your heart sinks.

“No… I thought he came straight here after Wayne’s.”

“Well obviously he didn’t,” Steve says. “Hence why I had Nat spend the night.”

“Well do you think he’s at Dustin’s?”

“I’m not sure, I haven’t spoken to the guy since yesterday morning.”

Something's off. Immediately rushing to the living room, you set the cupcakes down so you can call Wayne. It rings a few times but Eddie's uncle doesn’t pick up.

"Wayne's not picking up."

“That’s odd,” Steve gulps. “He almost always does.”

So you go to message Eddie. It's a simple text, Where are you? Straight to the point. To your complete shock, your usual blue text bubbles turn green. Eddie's phone is off. What the hell?

So you go to call him next. It doesn't hurt to try. But then your knees start to buckle when you're immediately directed to an automated voicemail box.

“We’re sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please try again later.”

The room is as frostbitten as the air outside. Steve senses abrupt energy shift.

You scroll nervously through your phone. The next person to contact is Dustin. Outside of his friendship with Steve, he is the next person closest to Eddie. But Curly doesn't pick up either.

"Oh god," you feel the color rushing from your face.

"Hargrove, i-it's okay," Steve attempts. "He's probably with Jeff or Gareth or Grant or somethin', o-okay? Let's not jump to conclusions."

He rests a warm hand atop your arm, grounding you back down to earth. You turn to him with worry. He rubs your back to comfort you.

"Eddie would never do anything to hurt himself on purpose," Steve assures you. "I can promise you that much. Don't let your mind go there."

"Okay," you exhale.

"But he is stupid though," Steve adds. "So, to be safe, we should probably check the hospital. Or urgent care. Dude probably cucked his ankle again."

And with that, you two set off to Hawkins Memorial on the other side of town.

The icy roads seem to draw on for miles as Steve drives. And you had no desire to explore the vastness of Roane County, for as long as Eddie isn’t there waiting for you at whatever coordinate the wind blows you to next.

Tapping your feet anxiously on the floor, you click your phone on and off again to see whether or not a message from Eddie pops up. It’s the same outcome every time.

Steve’s gentle hand rests on top of your trembling ones once again. He gives you a soft pat.

“It’ll all be okay, Shy Girl,” he says to you. “Promise.”

Thankfully, hospital parking is almost immediate. Booking it to the emergency department now, you and Steve rush to get to the front of the line to speak to the receptionist. When it's finally your turn, she greets you rather stoically.

“Can I help you?”

Without violating HIPAA?

“I sure hope so,” you sigh. “This is a wellness check. Do you guys maybe have a Munson admitted here?”

“Munson…” the last name marinates on the lady’s tongue almost as if she’s familiar with it. You wouldn’t doubt it. Wayne’s a frequent flyer due to the cancer and Hawkins is quite literally a speck of dust on the map.

You try to help her. “Maybe an Eddie…Edward… or quite possibly a Wayne…”

“Quite possibly a Wayne?” the lukewarm secretary echos you.

“Yes!” you hiss urgently. “Or maybe a John Doe? A guy in his late twenties, early thirties... This person most likely came in yesterday afternoon, night, or maybe even this morning. He has brown hai-"

“Shy Girl…” comes a voice behind you.

It’s one of the Munsons you’re looking for. But to your surprise, not the one you were expecting.

"Wayne..." you breathe.

In front of you is Eddie's uncle, sitting in his wheelchair evidently a bawling mess. If he’s here and Eddie’s not, it can only mean one thing.

Your throat tightens and you struggle to speak. A thin veil of tears gloss over your eyes, your fingertips essentially frozen now as the sterile white building closes up around you.

“Wayne…” you say again. “What happened?”

His uncle sniffs, drawing out uneven breaths as he tries to calm down, nose an irritable red to match his glassy, sleep-deprived eyes.

“There’s... been an accident,” he chokes. “They T-boned him. Van is totaled.”

That van. That stupid fucking van you’ve told Eddie time and time again to get rid of.

“Wayne," Steve interrogates. "Who drove you here?”

“The Henderson boy.”

You can't take it anymore.

“Where is he?!” you demand. “And why aren’t you with him, Wayne?! WHERE IS EDDIE?”

“Doctors won’t tell me nothin'!” Wayne blubbers, his voice cracking like a helpless child. “But as someone whose second home is the hospital, I know what that means.”

The three of you take this time to cry. You instantly collapse into Steve's arms. He embraces you tight, dragging you off to the side so the people who were waiting behind you could be helped next.

Nothing matters anymore, you think to yourself. This is what you get for going to bed angry. The one time. The one time. And as the three of you start to gather yourselves again — rather slowly — Wayne speaks once more... uttering a belief that you've already come to terms with. Something that you already know.

“It’s not looking good for Eddie.”

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins

oh yeah, song of the chapter is...

side note: s/o to DR. bridgit mendler, the irl barbie

[otrtbs]

beloved movie star lily evans going through a divorce with hollywood’s hottest james potter so she takes some time for herself and moves to miami in the 1980s and sets herself up real nice with the alimony james is paying her (and it’s like triple what he owes legally because he still adores her) when?

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 2

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not. Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Part 3

Chapter Summary: You're anxious before your date.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.1k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, stalking, coercion, threats (not against reader), creepy and unhinged behavior, flashback, possessiveness, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You loved working at the flower shop. Putting together beautiful arrangements and bringing joy to others made you happy. But today, the morning after that stranger showed up in your home, you weren’t fully alert as you went about your tasks. The air around you felt different, thicker. Flipping through the order book, you attempted to look busy instead of walking around in a haze.

Whenever you began to focus, your mind would drift back to Bucky Barnes and your upcoming date. You hadn’t told Addison or anyone else about it because what could you tell them? How could you explain your situation?

You hadn’t even slept in your own bed thanks to that man.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed seated on the couch once Bucky left your place. You’d have to move eventually, but you were replaying what happened in your head like a song on repeat and tried to make sense of it. A man broke into your home, but didn’t steal anything. Held you in his lap, but didn’t violate you.

No, that last part wasn’t true. That was exactly what he did. He violated your safety. And demanded a date with you.

You jerked when your phone dinged, but your heart only pounded faster when you saw a message from a new contact.

Bucky.

“I wish I could’ve stayed the night, but I’ll dream about you and count down the minutes until our date. Don’t forget about your gifts.”

He knew the date was on because how could you say no?

Your stomach dropped as you glanced down the hall. Wiping the remaining tears away, you got to your feet and cautiously made your way toward your bedroom. You weren’t expecting anyone to be there, but who knew what he did while you were at work? And what if he came back?

Would you scream for help or call the police?

“Just go in,” you whispered.

Pushing the door open with a shaky hand and flipping on the light, everything looked normal as you looked around and approached the bed. Everything except the garment and gift bag in the middle of it. They taunted you, daring you to look inside. At the very least, to read the small card on top of the bag.

You caught a small whiff of the cologne he wore as you picked it up and read the single statement.

“This is just the beginning, doll.”

The card slipped from your shaky hand. It would’ve been romantic under normal circumstances. You looked inside the gift bag next, but it did nothing to calm your nerves. Not only was it your favorite perfume as he stated, but it was the largest size available.

You unzipped the garment bag after and gasped at the sight of the dress. It was from a designer you admired, but could never afford. Simple yet beautiful in design, you had to stop yourself from running your hand over the fabric. Yes, it was a beautiful dress and it was just the right size.

But it came with strings attached.

“How?”

You half expected to see a blinking light when your eyes darted to the corners of your bedroom, but everything still looked ordinary. Nothing looked out of place. It didn’t stop your skin from crawling at the thought of him watching you. Because how did he know your size and the kind of perfume you liked? That you liked having a glass of wine when you took a bath? The password to your phone?

How did he know anything about you?

That was perhaps one of the most terrifying aspects about your ordeal: He was clearly powerful and connected, yet you didn’t know exactly what he was capable of or how far he’d go.

It took you a minute to type back a message to him. “Thank you for the gifts.”

A response came back almost immediately. Was he waiting by his phone for you? “Like I said, it’s just the beginning. I have another gift waiting for you, but you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for that one. It’s a surprise.”

You suddenly didn’t like surprises.

Could you accept gifts wrapped in pretty bows if it meant keeping those you cared about safe? Would you be a living doll to satisfy whatever craving he had that led him to you? At the very least, you’d have to play along for one night to try and get some answers.

“I’m sure it’ll be a nice surprise. Good night.” You sent, hoping he’d get the hint and leave you be.

“Sweet dreams.”

Grabbing a blanket, you made your way back to the living room and curled up in your oversized chair. There wouldn’t be any sweet dreams. Not tonight. Not with the way your mind raced.

Because who the hell was Bucky Barnes and why did he want you?

The bell over the door rang, pulling you from your thoughts and reminding you that you had a job to do. You blinked as a tall man with golden hair and bright blue eyes walked in. A new customer from what you gathered, and an intimidating one at that. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you exhaled once he smiled in your direction.

“Hi,” you said, closing your book. “How can I help you?”

“I’m here to get some flowers for my girl,” he replied, the deep timbre gentle yet commanding. “No special occasion or anything. I just want to surprise her.”

A smile touched your lips. “That’s one of the best reasons to get someone flowers,” you said. You liked to imagine your future husband would get you flowers just because he felt like it. “Does she have a favorite?”

“Tulips,” he answered without hesitation. “Any color as long as they’re tulips.”

You stepped around the corner and led him to the premade arrangements. “We have this multicolored bouquet that she may like. Brightens the room and has an uplifting aroma.”

The gentleman reached out to touch one of the petals before he nodded. “She’ll love them,” he said more to himself than to you.

He sounded like a man in love.

“I’m sure she will,” you agreed, carefully carrying it to the counter so you could ring it up. Your skin prickled when you felt his eyes on you, but you told yourself to relax. This guy wasn’t like Bucky. You were paranoid after last night and he was likely watching just to make sure you didn’t drop the bouquet. “Will this be all for you?”

“Which one is your favorite?”

“My favorite?” You repeated as he waited for your response. The question surprised you, but you nodded to one of the recent arrangements you made. “It’s hard to choose a favorite, but I like stargazer lilies.”

You sometimes brought arrangements home for yourself since you couldn’t remember the last time anyone got you flowers.

“I’ll take those, too,” he said, going to get the vase himself. “I really appreciate your help.”

“It was nothing,” you smiled, ringing up the order. “And you made my job very easy, so thank you.”

“Your partner must feel very lucky to have you,” he said before you paused.

Biting your tongue, you stopped yourself from correcting him. You didn’t have a partner. A possible stalker? Yes.

His brows furrowed as he quietly paid. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

You shook your head and put your best customer service smile back on your face. “No apologies. I actually have a first date tonight. Maybe he’s the one,” you told him, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. “I hope your girl enjoys her flowers.”

He smiled back as he took the bouquets and receipt. “Me, too,” he said, something sparkling in his eye when he added, “Good luck on your date.”

The blonde left without another word, leaving you to grip the counter and wonder how the hell you were going to get through your evening.

You stood in front of your bedroom mirror hours later, admiring yourself in the dress. It fit you well. Beautifully, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. You spritzed yourself with the perfume too. Might as well use it since Bucky was likely expecting it.

The scent should’ve brought a smile to your face instead of tears to your eyes.

“Hey! Still on for hanging out tomorrow?” Addison messaged you as you checked the time on your phone.

You blinked the tears away and realized you hadn’t messaged her once today. You were afraid to. If you mentioned Bucky, it would tempt you to spill what happened since you hardly kept anything from your best friend. And if you told her what happened…

Bucky would know.

With a shudder, you messaged her back. “Yep! See you then.”

The tension in your body skyrocketed when your doorbell rang at 7pm, right down to the second. “Be right there!” You called, shoving your phone in your clutch before you took one last look in the mirror. What did it matter if you looked good or not? It was a forced date.

You exhaled as you opened the door and froze when you saw Bucky standing on the other side. You foolishly thought he wouldn’t show, but luck wasn’t on your side. The sharp, dark suit he wore and air of confidence he carried had your heart pounding in your chest. The glove covering his left hand somehow worked with the suit.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his gaze sweeping over you. Why did he look at you like you were something to be desired? “You are so beautiful.”

Butterflies filled your stomach despite your fear. If only he had approached you and asked you out like a normal guy. “Thanks,” you whispered, locking the door once you were in the hall.

Did he have your spare key or did he find a way to get a copy?

“I wore this suit to match your dress,” he said, giving you an expectant look.

The guy was actually fishing for a compliment. “And you look very handsome,” you said, a smile lighting up his face.

“Thanks.” He held his arm out, satisfaction filling his eyes when you took it. “I’m glad you said ’yes’ to this date.”

“I’m sure you would’ve found a way to convince me if I didn’t,” you told him, reminding yourself that accepting this kept your loved ones safe and sound.

“I would have,” he agreed, keeping you close as he led you outside to where a luxury car was waiting. The car likely cost more than what you made in a year. “But you saved me the trouble by agreeing like the good, smart girl I know you are.”

You didn’t thank him for the “compliment”.

Bucky didn’t wait for the driver to open the door, grabbing the handle and helping you inside himself. You slid across the seat and tried to keep your dress from riding up as he got in beside you. He didn’t allow you any breathing room as the glass partition went up and the car took off. You were alone with him.

He could do whatever he wanted.

“You can sit in my lap if you’d like,” he said to break the silence. “It’s nice and comfortable.”

“No thanks,” you said, glancing ahead at the glass when he took your hand. You’d been in his lap the night before and that was more than enough. “Doesn’t seem safe.”

“You can sit here after dinner then,” he suggested, smirking when you glanced out of the corner of your eye.

Your stomach turned at that. He mentioned it took everything in him not to drag you to bed. You believed him. How long would he hold out before he tried to make a move?

“Sorry I didn’t text you today. I didn’t want to bother or overwhelm you while you were working,” he continued, kissing each of your knuckles as you stared straight ahead again. “At least not right away.”

“How considerate of you,” you muttered.

He chuckled and pressed another kiss to your hand before he held it in his lap. You stiffened and for a moment you thought he’d put your palm to his crotch. You weren’t sure what to expect from him.

“Look. I want tonight to be good for both of us. I’m sure you have a lot of questions and I’ll do my best to give you answers,” he said, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear as he addressed the elephant in the room. “I know a lot about you, but I imagine you don’t know much about me.”

“No, I don’t,” you admitted. As tempted as you were to look up his name, you refrained and couldn’t put your finger on why. “If I ask you questions, will you lie to me?”

“I have no reason to lie.” He brought a gloved hand to your cheek and forced you to meet his gaze. Even in the dark of the car, you could see the want in his eyes. “I want you to trust me.”

Trust the man with zero respect for boundaries? Could you do that? “Addison’s bachelorette party was a month ago. Was that really the first time you saw me?”

“It was. Everything changed when I saw you,” he replied, moving his hand from your face down to your neck. Like he just had to touch you. “Though it didn’t take a month to track you down, it did give me time to do my research and find out everything I could about you. Where you live, where you work, your interests, your routine. I like to be thorough.”

You turned your head away when it began to spin, trying to understand how he sounded so casual in his admittance to stalking you. You also couldn’t keep looking into those blue eyes. They would drown you.

What you wanted to ask was if he was watching you in your home. But trapped in that small space with him, what if his answer freaked you out more? He said he wouldn’t hurt you, but would he keep that promise?

The question that came out instead was, “And you just decided during that time that you wanted me?”

Your eyes shut as his lips touched your ear. “I wanted you the moment I saw you,” he whispered, making you shiver at the feel of his breath. “And the more I learned about you, the more you pulled me in. I’m just a moth drawn to your flame. And you’re exactly who I want by my side.”

His words washed over you, wearing you down like a stone sinking in the water. It was too much. Too intense. “Where are we going?”

“Mmm. Our date.” You exhaled when his fingers brushed along your arm. “I thought about renting out a restaurant or taking you away to an island for our first date. Something intimate and private. Then I thought, what’s more intimate and private than my penthouse?”

“Your penthouse?” You asked, opening your eyes.

“Yeah, my home,” he smiled, either not noticing or caring when your eyes rounded. “It’s the best spot in town, of course. Can’t beat the view. And we don’t need any eavesdroppers now, do we?”

Your heart sank as you reached for your phone. People would at least be able to see you in a public place, but his home? That was like going into the heart of a lion’s den. It would be so easy to message Addison or Dana and ask for some sort of help without giving too many details. You could-

Bucky took the phone from your hand and tucked it in his jacket pocket. “You won’t need that tonight,” he stated, something in his calm tone telling you not to argue. “I have a chef preparing dinner and a dessert and I selected a nice bottle of wine for us to share. I also want to give you a tour after the meal since it’s going to be your home sooner or later.”

You choked on your next breath. “It’s what?”

“We’re here,” he smiled, terror gripping you when the car stopped in an underground parking garage. “You can ask me more questions inside.”

“Bucky, did you say this is going to be my home?” You pressed as he helped you out, having to rush to keep up with him as he pulled you to an elevator.

You hoped that wasn’t the gift he wanted to surprise you with tonight.

“Not right away, but yes. My place is a bit safer than yours and it’s close to my club and your shop. A win-win,” he said, scanning a key card before the doors opened. “Don’t look so surprised. Most couples live together.”

You refrained from telling him that you weren’t a couple. “I think that’s moving a bit too fast,” you said, your voice cracking as he pulled you inside, keeping you right beside him even though there was plenty of space to be apart. “This is only our first date,” you added, not wanting to upset him.

“That’s why I said it wouldn’t be right away,” he teased, pressing the button for the top floor as his other hand rubbed your hip. “But soon.”

You kept your breathing under control as the elevator climbed higher. The man had your future mapped out and you had only known him for a day. Was this some sick, elaborate game that he was playing to scare the hell out of you? Or had he convinced himself that this was romantic?

“I hope you like it,” he said softly as you stepped out together and walked toward a man who stood by the door. He was just as large as Bucky, but didn’t dare make eye contact with you as he opened the door and let you in.

The spacious entrance opened up to a large living space with high ceilings and marble floors. It was admittedly gorgeous and you hadn’t seen the rest of the place yet. But that wasn’t what caught your attention. It was the flowers in the middle of the table a few feet in front of you.

The coy smile on Bucky’s face made your blood freeze when you faced him. “Those are your favorite, aren’t they?” He asked.

They weren’t just your favorite flowers.

It was the same arrangement of stargazer lilies you sold to the blonde gentleman earlier today.

“I told you, doll. I know everything about you,” he began as the clutch fell from your hand and the door shut with a heavy thud. “And I have eyes and ears everywhere.”

Zero chill, lovelies. What's the surprise he has for you? How will this date go? And did you like the appearance from the man in the shop? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[highinmiamiii]

you can be the boss 🦢

Club owner!Joe Kessler x Stripper Reader x DBF!Billy Butcher

18+ smut mdni

(a/n): new installment to club kess! i love this au soooo much kess is such a dirtbag, he’s kinda hard for me to write so i apologize if things are not as smooth sailing as you might expect. i hope you all enjoy this more sugar daddyish oriented smut chapter i was feeling smutty…perhaps we will get more sugar daddy shenanigans in the future before butcher decides he needs kessler gone asap. i love them being jealous of eachother its so hot, anyways

(CW: in general just stay away if you’re uncomfortable by anything sexual bc this is pretty filthy. fingering, squirting, slight daddyish dynamic, arguement w butcher, idk what else)

The dim glow of Kessler’s modern penthouse was a sharp contrast to the harsh reality she faced daily. The space was a testament to excess—a grand apartment bathed in dark marble, glass and metals, where every piece of furniture looked more out of some sort of sterile futuristic hospital than the last. Black velvet drapes, rich and heavy, framed the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city skyline. The scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cigars and fine leather.

Tonight, she was a vision in a black silk dress that clung to her every curve, the material shimmering under the soft, ambient lighting. Her heels clicked against the polished marble floor, each step resonating with the weight of her uncertainty. The dress’s plunging neckline and thigh-high slit revealed just enough to captivate yet leave much to the imagination. Her makeup was impeccable—smoky eyes and red lips that promised allure. Her hair cascaded in glossy waves, framing her face in a way that only enhanced her beauty further.

Kessler lounged on an overstuffed leather sofa, his presence larger than life. He had a predatory grace about him, his eyes glinting with unspoken promises. “Sweetheart,” he drawled, his voice smooth as silk. “You look fuckin’ gorgeous tonight. I must say, the way that dress hugs you—” He let the compliment trail off, his gaze lingering in a manner both admiring and possessive.

She shifted uncomfortably, aware of the subtle pressure his gaze exerted. “Thank you, Mr. Kessler,” she replied, attempting to mask her discomfort with a polite smile.

Kessler’s smile widened, revealing a glint of white teeth. “Call me Joe, darling. ‘Mr. Kessler’ makes me sound like a schoolteacher. Now, let’s talk business.” He gestured toward a bottle of vintage champagne resting in an ice bucket nearby, his hand lingering just a fraction too long on her arm as he led her to sit beside him.

As she settled on the sofa, he poured the champagne with practiced elegance, his eyes never straying far from her. “You know, baby, I’ve been thinking about our last conversation. You’ve got something special, and I’d hate to see that talent go to waste.”

Her heart raced at his words. She thought back to the other day when he spoke to her in his office. The promises of stardom hanging heavy between them since them “H-how so?”

Kessler leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “I’m talking about making you a star. Not just any star, but one of those dazzling lights that everyone will want to see. I could maybe even get ya in a film one day”

She forced herself to meet his gaze, trying to read his intentions. “And what’s in it for you?”

A smirk played on his lips as he handed her a thick envelope stuffed with cash. “Absolutely nothing sweetheart, just a little something to show my appreciation. Get yourself something nice to wear. Don’t worry about the details just yet. We’re going to get you out of this town, baby. It’s only a matter of time.”

The envelope felt heavy in her hands, its weight a reminder of her growing dependence on Kessler’s promises. As she hesitated, he reached out and gently stroked her cheek. “Relax, darling. You’re in good hands.”

His thick strong hands roamed their way down her waist, gently turning her over so her back is facing him. He starts to dig his fingers deep into the blades of her back, kneading the skin and helping her release every last knot “Mmm, so tense baby” He huffs and kneads rougher, causing a pleasured gasp to escape her throat “fuck..” She whispers, cracking her neck

Kessler’s hands continued their slow, deliberate work on her back, each stroke more possessive than the last. His breath was hot against her neck, close enough to send shivers down her spine. He was playing a dangerous game—one that blurred the lines between manipulation and seduction.

“Can’t have my girls all tense like this,” Kessler whispered, his lips grazing her ear, voice low and full of promise. “You’ve been carrying too much weight on those pretty shoulders.”

He pushed her hair aside and trailed soft kisses down the back of her neck, his lips lingering just enough to make her pulse quicken. She tensed, unsure how to respond. Part of her mind screamed to pull away, but her body betrayed her, leaning back into his touch, craving the attention despite the warning signs flashing in her head.

“You don’t need to worry about a thing, sweetheart,” he murmured, his fingers now tracing circles along her hips, drawing her closer into him. “I’ll take care of everything. You just let me handle it.”

His hands roamed lower, teasingly brushing against her waist as he spun her around to face him. Kessler’s dark eyes were filled with desire and power, a dangerous mix that made her heart race. He pulled her closer, into his lap so that she’s straddling his waist.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Kessler growled softly, his hand now caressing her cheek, thumb tracing her lips. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you, baby? The way you move, the way you look at me… it drives me wild.”

Her breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips crashing against hers with an intensity that made her knees weak. The kiss was hard and demanding, filled with the same possessiveness that had been building between them since the start. His hand gripped the back of her neck, holding her in place as his tongue slid against hers, coaxing her deeper into the moment.

Her mind swirled with conflicting emotions. She knew this was wrong—knew that he was manipulating her, bending her to his will. But in that moment, with his hands on her and his words washing over her, it was hard to remember the reasons why she had to resist.

He pressed her against the wall, his lips finding their way to her jaw, her throat, marking her with each kiss. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” he whispered against her skin, the promise dripping with desire and control. “You won’t need anyone else. Just me.”

Her breath quickened, and she felt his hand slide down to her thigh, lifting her leg slightly so that he could press himself harder against her. It was overwhelming, the way he commanded the situation, the way he took control without giving her time to think. Kessler pulled back just enough to speak, his voice husky with lust. “You feel that, sweetheart? That’s what you do to this ol’ man, eh? you proud of that?” He says teasingly as he breathes heavily into your ear

As his lips found hers again, she kissed him back with a desperation that surprised even her. It wasn’t just the money, or the promises—it was the way he made her feel in moments like this. Powerful, desired, and yet, completely under his thumb. A stark contrast to how Billy made her feel.

The only time she would feel any sort of reciprocation from Butcher when he was off his rockers or blackout drunk. You’d looked up to him since you were a literal little girl. Of course you had a dumb schoolgirl crush on him, but that didn’t matter right now. Not with Kessler holding you like this, making you feel so sexy, so wanted, spoiling you every last chance he got. Fuck Billy. If he didn’t want her sober then she was going to find someone world’s better for her.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, she knew the truth: the more she gave in, the more she’d lose of herself. But then again, it was a much better feeling to have someone want you without having to consume enough alcohol to kill a small animal for once.

Kessler’s hands slid up her waist again, his grip firm. “You won’t ever need to work for those tips again,” he murmured, kissing her neck. “You’re too good for that. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

She pulled back, her breath ragged as she searched his eyes. “And what do you get out of this, Joe?…” She asked, honestly not wanting to deal with her suspicions right now and see him as the perfect man…but she had to, it seemed like a very unfair trade here.

He smirked, that devilish grin lighting up his face. “I get you, sweetheart. That’s more than enough.”

Her mind was screaming at her to step away, to leave, but instead, she stayed there, pinned between Kessler and the wall, completely unsure of where to go from here.

Kessler's gaze held hers captive, his eyes darkening with intensity. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek before tangling in her hair. "Why do you always have to be so unsure about everything, huh babygirl?" he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

Kessler's hands tightened around her waist, his fingers splayed possessively over her hips. "You know, when you're being difficult, it makes me want to put you over my knee and spank some sense into you." He growled, his voice low and menacing.

Her eyes widened, her face flushing a deep shade of red. "W-What?... Over your knee?... Like a- a fucking a child?" She stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re sicker than I thought you were Kess” She mutters with a soft nervous chuckle. Kessler grinned wickedly, enjoying her flustered reaction. "Well, sweetheart, you're acting like a damn brat right now, ain't you? Maybe a good spanking is just what you need to learn some respect." His hands squeezed her backside, his intent clear.

She nervously stutters out “Y-you know what- it’s getting late kess—“

Kessler silenced her protests with a searing kiss, his hands gripping her thighs and hoisting her up. She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms looping around his neck. "Then perhaps," he said against her lips, "you should show me some obedience instead, young lady."

Her mind was racing, but her body betrayed her, clinging to him as he carried her to the bedroom. She buried her face in his neck, murmuring “y-yes Mr. Kessler”

He hikes her dress up past her ass, his palm smacking loudly against the plump fat, her skin rippling as she yelps in shock “Told ya not to fuckin’ call me that, didn’t I babygirl?”

She gasped as his palm connected with her bottom, the sharp smack echoing in the room. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she buried her face deeper into his neck, letting out a choked sob "Y-yes- m’sorry” she whines helplessly

Kessler's hand caressed her reddened flesh soothingly, his touch gentle despite the earlier roughness. "Good girl." He praised, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's see if you can ride my hand like one"

Kessler felt a surge of protectiveness well up within him. He could feel her body quivering against his, her breath coming in ragged, tear-choked gasps. Her vulnerability stirred something primal within him, a need to cherish and control her in equal measure. She let out a soft, shuddering breath as his hand caressed her stinging backside, her body still tensed from the sudden, humiliating punishment. The heat from his palm seeped into her skin, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room. His touch gentled, his fingers trailing along the crease of her bottom, pausing to squeeze the tender flesh possessively before slipping lower. She could feel his knuckles brushing against her thighs, parting them ever so slightly.

Kessler wrapped an arm around her waist and tossed her facedown on the mattress, her breath hitching as she bounced slightly. He climbed onto the bed, straddling her thighs and pinning her hips down with one beefy, tattooed arm wrapped around her waist. His other hand snaked beneath her, groping along her inner thighs until it reached the hem of her lace underwear. He paused, his thick fingers toying with the delicate fabric before he slowly began to drag it aside, revealing the tender flesh beneath.

As he exposed her soaked pussy, he let out a low, appreciative growl. "Fuck, look at you," he muttered, his breath hot against her ear. "Fucking soaked, just for me. dripping all over my sheets, aren't you, sweetness?" Her cheeks flamed with embarrassed heat as she buried her face in the mattress, muffling her moans. His thick fingers parted her folds, slowly sliding up and down her slick crease. “Answer me," he demanded gruffly, punctuating his words with firm pressure against her hole.

“Y-yes” she gasps out softly, wondering how the hell she got here. she had promised butcher that she wasn’t sleeping with kessler, especially not for his money…so what the hell was she doing letting him touch her like this. Her mind raced as Kessler's touch grew bolder, his fingers pumping in and out of her as his thumb swirled around her sensitive little pulsing nub, soaking up her guilty secret. "Squeezin’ me and i’ve barely got two fingers in, got the tightest pretty little pussy i’ve ever laid eyes on, baby" he growled, his breath hot against her ear.

Kessler's fingers curled inward, pressing against her g-spot as he continued to talk dirty to her. "that’s a good fuckin’ girl," he praised, his voice thick with lust. "let's see just how messy we can get’er, eh?”

She bit down on her lip to silence her cries as he slowly added a third finger, stretching her wide. His touch grew more insistent, his thumb rubbing firm circles over her swollen nub while his fingers pumped in and out of her, slowly gaining speed.

“oh yeah baby, doin’ so well..” he rasped, his tone filled with approval. “This little cunts gripping my fingers so tight, all soaked and sloppy... that old fuck that comes around the club- what’s his name sweetheart?— “

“W-wha—“ She mumbles, rolling her neck in pleasure as she arches her back slightly. “jeeesus- i- i don’t know who you’re talking about-“

“The motherfucker that picks ya up babygirl, think I don’t ask around? Butcher, was it? He bury his fingers this deep in ya like I am now?"

She tried to speak, but all that came out was a garbled moan as he hit that spot inside her again and again. Her eyes rolled back, and she squeezed her legs together, trying to keep his fingers inside her, but he just pushed them in even deeper. Her back bowed, pushing her rear higher into the air as unbridled pleasure coursed through her veins like liquid fire. Each thrust of his fingers against that magical spot sent shockwaves through her core, her inner walls clutching at him greedily, desperate to keep him inside.

"Mmm, does he make you feel like this?" Kessler growled, his breath hot against her ear. "does he make you shake and whimper like my touch does? does he make you beg for his touch, sweetheart?"

"No, Billy means nothing," she stammered, her back arching off the bed as Kessler's fingers hit that magic spot inside her. "We've never— really done anything. He's always drunk, and I've never… never even gotten close to finishing with him…I-I swear…”

Kessler's eyes widened in disbelief as she spoke, his fingers pausing inside her for a moment before he started moving again, faster and harder. "What the fuck, sweetheart? He's never even gotten you off?" "He's not my boyfriend," she gasped, her fingers clawing at the bedsheets. "He's just... around. And when he is, he's drunk or asleep. Oh god, Kess, please..." Kessler groaned softly, his mind racing with the realization that he was likely the only one who'd ever touched her like this, who'd ever brought her to the brink of release. His fingers curled inside her, his thumb rubbing her swollen nub with quick, firm circles. "You're so close, babygirl. I can feel you pulsating around my fingers. You're gonna come for me like this, ain't ya? Y’don’t need him..” She nodded frantically, her body trembling as his words washed over her. "Yes, Kess, yes, d-don’t need him! I've never... I've never even touched myself like this. Only you, only your fingers—and oh god, I'm so close!"

Her back bowed, a high-pitched cry tearing from her throat as the most intense pleasure she'd ever known exploded within her. It was like a dam breaking, her insides convulsing as waves of pure ecstasy crashed over her. Kessler's mouth dropped open as she cried out, her body convulsing as a torrent of her release gushed out, drenching his hand. "Holy fuck...made my girl fuckin’ squirt" he breathed, watching in awe as her body trembled and quaked.

He quickly moved to clean her up, his tongue delving between her folds to lap up every last drop. She whimpered and shuddered, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as he ate her out like a starving man.

Kessler's face buried between her thighs, his tongue ravaging her soaked flesh as he licked up every last trace of her release. She quivered uncontrollably, her hips bucking against his mouth, overly sensitized from the mind-shattering climax. "K-Kess... it's too much...,"

He gentled his touch, lapping at her slowly, thoroughly cleaning her up before placing soft kisses on her inner thighs and belly. He crawled up beside her, pulling her against his chest as they both caught their breath.

That next morning, sun seeping in through the floor-to-ceiling windows as his his housemaid sweeps the floor. Soft jazz played in the background, creating an atmosphere of sophistication and ease. She, in a delicate white lacy dress that contrasted starkly with the darkness of her previous attire, felt like she was stepping into a world far removed from her own struggles. This dress, with its intricate lace detailing and short little poofy skirt, was both elegant and suggestive—a perfect blend of innocence and allure.

Kessler greeted her with an almost theatrical flourish. “There she is, my starlet,” he crooned, his eyes dark with something akin to possessiveness.

Weeks later, her role at Club Kessler had evolved significantly. She had been promoted to a bottle service girl, a coveted position that allowed her to cater to the club’s high-profile clientele. The VIP area, with its plush seating and private booths, was a stark contrast to the main stage where she once performed. The exclusivity of her new role seemed like a step toward the future Kessler had promised her.

Kessler’s possessiveness, however, became more apparent with each passing night. She, now clad in a glittering silver mini-dress that showcased her toned legs and accentuated her every move, was serving a particularly influential client. As she danced for him, her movements fluid and practiced, she noticed Kessler watching from the shadows, his gaze intense and scrutinizing.

After the dance, Kessler approached her with a dangerous smile. “Baby, I need to talk to you.”

Her heart sank. She followed him to a quieter corner of the club, where the sound of the music seemed distant and hollow. “What’s wrong?”

He placed a hand on her arm, his touch possessive. “I saw what you were doing out there. It’s not what I want for you. You’re not just another girl in this club; you’re special. I don’t want you giving private dances anymore.”

She blinked, stunned. “But… how am I supposed to make money? I work off tips.”

Kessler’s smile faltered for a brief moment before returning with a more sinister edge. “Don’t worry about it. From now on, I’ll take care of everything. You’re not here to earn a living, sweetheart; you’re here to shine.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on her shoulders. Her independence was slipping away, replaced by a sense of obligation and dependency. The last shred of her dignity—the money she had earned herself—was now a distant memory.

Kessler’s manipulation became more pronounced. The cash he handed her grew in volume, and his control over her life tightened with each passing day. She felt the weight of her dependence on him—a growing burden that overshadowed the promises of fame and freedom.

The bell above the door chimed as Butcher stepped into the shop, his presence a familiar weight that made the cramped space feel even smaller. She stood behind the counter, hands smoothing over a pile of folded shirts, trying not to let her fingers tremble. The shop smelled like old leather and wood polish, mixed with the faint tang of motor oil from the garage out back. It was the kind of place that felt worn-in, like a pair of boots broken just right.

Butcher, in his usual dark coat, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, looked out of place here—too rough, too loud for the quiet, slow-moving world of the shop. His heavy boots echoed off the wooden floors as he strode past the racks, eyes landing on her in that way that always made her feel exposed. He had that same look tonight—like he knew something wasn’t right but wasn’t sure how to ask.

She wore a pale pink dress today, soft and frilled at the edges, the kind of thing that made her feel delicate, though she’d long forgotten how to be. It hugged her figure just enough to feel pretty without trying, but now, under Butcher’s stare, it felt like too much. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the dress, fidgeting in that way she did when she was nervous.

“Bit late, don’t ya think?” she asked, her voice light but brittle as she glanced up at him. He looked tired. The kind of tired that sunk deep into the bones, making everything heavy. He didn’t answer right away, just made his way over to the counter, resting his elbows on it as he leaned toward her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to read something there.

“You closing up soon?” His voice was low, rough, but there was something softer beneath it, hidden beneath the layers of his gruff exterior.

“Yeah, just waiting on one last customer,” she said, nodding to the back where an old man was browsing the shelves with deliberate slowness. He didn’t seem in a rush to leave, and neither did Butcher, it seemed.

He grunted in response, shifting his weight. “Didn’t think you’d be workin’ this late.”

She shrugged, eyes dropping to the counter, fingers running over the grain of the wood, tracing the tiny nicks and scratches that had accumulated over the years. “Needed the hours,” she muttered. Butcher knew why, even if she didn’t say it outright. The debt. Kessler. Everything she’d tangled herself in.

A silence fell between them, thick and heavy like the dusk settling outside. She could feel him watching her, that familiar gaze that made her skin itch, like he could see all the things she was trying to hide. It was always like this with Butcher—he didn’t have to say much to make her feel like she was under a microscope.

“You alright?” His question was simple, but there was weight to it, like it held more than just casual concern.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, too quickly, her voice wavering just enough to betray her. She didn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see the cracks.

Butcher tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as if to study her closer. “Ya sure ‘bout that, Doll?”

She hated how easily that nickname slipped out of him, how it softened her resolve even when she didn’t want it to. She glanced up, meeting his eyes for just a second before looking away. He always had a way of getting under her skin, seeing through her defenses without even trying.

The old man at the back of the shop coughed, a reminder that they weren’t alone. Butcher straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest, looking like he was about to say something when the customer shuffled to the front, a stack of books in hand.

She stepped away from Butcher, her heart pounding in her chest, and rang up the sale with hands that were a little too shaky. The man didn’t seem to notice as he gathered his things and nodded politely, heading for the door. The bell chimed again as it swung shut behind him, leaving her alone with Butcher.

The air felt thicker now, the shop quieter. Butcher took a step toward her, his fingers drumming on the countertop. “Doll,” he started, but the words seemed to catch in his throat.

She looked at him finally, really looked at him. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of a world that wasn’t entirely his. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His coat was rumpled, like he’d been wearing it for too long, and his shirt was half untucked, one side pulled loose where his belt cut into his waist. But there was something else too—something softer, buried deep in the lines of his face. Concern, maybe. Or guilt. She couldn’t tell anymore.

“I’m fine, Butcher,” she repeated, but this time her voice was quieter, more tired than defiant. She wiped her hands on her dress, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “You don’t need to keep checking in on me.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into something like a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah? And who’s gonna check in on ya if I don’t?”

The question hung in the air between them, heavy and unspoken for too long. She didn’t answer, didn’t know how to. Her eyes drifted to the door, then back to him, and suddenly the space between them felt too small, too intimate.

“I can take care of myself,” she muttered, more to convince herself than him. She didn’t even believe it anymore.

Butcher’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out but thought better of it. Instead, he leaned forward, his voice dropping low, rough around the edges. “I ain’t sayin’ you can’t handle yourself, Doll. I know you’re tough. But tough ain’t always enough.”

Her chest tightened, the words sinking deep. She could feel the weight of them pressing down on her, the way Butcher always seemed to pull her in, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. She wanted to push him away, tell him to leave, but instead, she found herself leaning into it, letting the silence stretch between them.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “You don’t have to fix everything.”

Butcher’s eyes softened, just a fraction, and he let out a breath he’d been holding. “I ain’t tryin’ to fix ya, Doll. Just don’t want ya drownin’, is all.”

There it was again—that concern, that twisted, broken care that made her chest ache. He didn’t know how to show it, not the way people were supposed to, but she felt it anyway, like a pulse between them.

“I’m not drowning.” she whispered, though the words felt like a lie. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself anymore. “Leave it, Butcher.”

Butcher didn’t move, didn’t push, just stood there watching her with that quiet intensity that always made her feel like she was standing on the edge of something. Something dangerous. Something she couldn’t escape from.

The bell above the door chimed again as he turned to leave, but before stepping out into the night, he glanced back at her, eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

“Make sure ya lock up, Doll,” he muttered, his voice softer now, like a command but gentler. Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving her standing in the dim light of the shop, the weight of his presence still hanging in the air.

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 1: Introductions✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Here is my new club owner Joel series! Thank you to the lovely @janaispunk for making me this beautiful mood board ❤️ Joel Miller is the biggest menace in this one. I wanted to somehow mix a little 50 Shades of Grey but also create something unique and super hot, so hope you enjoy 50 Shades of pleasure dom Joel! Comments and reblogs are most appreciated. Let me know your thoughts on this one! As always, I LOVE writing and hope you enjoy my stories as much as I love writing and sharing them with you 💕

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Word Count: 9.7k

Tags: No outbreak au, thigh riding, Joel’s dirty mouth, flirting, pining, fingering

Summary: After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s Friday night and instead of sitting down with a cold glass of white wine and a book on the couch, you’re currently standing in a dress that’s too tight and heels so high you think you’ll fall over at any minute. The tight black dress clings to your body like a suction cup, and the slit in the side of your left thigh is almost showing too much skin the more you move around.

You spent the last hour sitting at your glowing vanity, curling your hair into long spirals and putting on smokey dark eyeshadow that makes your eyes stand out and deep red lipstick that sits matted against your lips. This isn’t your usual. You like to stay in after a long week at the library, not go clubbing till 2:00am. You’re not an extrovert like all your friends are, so this is a once in a while thing you even do.

You take one more look at yourself in the mirror and sigh heavily. This will be good for you. You need to socialize. You need to get back into the dating field, but that honestly just sounds like a nightmare right now. Dating in general just sucks. It’s like no man knows how to even properly treat a woman nowadays. Your last boyfriend was a complete nightmare. Tall, lanky, sports obsessed, demanded blowjobs without even offering to go down on you once. That’s how all the guys had been in the past, and you were honestly just over it. Fuck men.

Before you can get all worked up about past boyfriends, you head to your apartment door when you hear a sharp knock and giddy laughter on the other side. That meant the girls were here. Here goes nothing. When you open the door, Brianna and Taylor lose it when they see what you’re wearing.

“Oh my God, look at you!” Brianna screams as Taylor twirls you around to get a good look at you. Brianna’s soft brown eyes and long blonde curls look you over from head to toe. “You’re such a babe! And that dress? God, it makes your ass look so good and that slit in your dress?! You are definitely going to get laid tonight,” she shrieks as she gives you a quick hug hello.

“Bri, stop!” you laugh, shaking your head no. “I am not getting laid tonight. I’m so over guys,” you cringe as you roll your eyes.

“Oh, please. All the men are going to be looking at you tonight, you little slut!” Taylor smirks as her green eyes sparkle like emeralds when she looks at your short dress. Her pinned up red hair sits perfectly in a messy bun atop her head, her white heels digging into the wooden floor as she circles you.

“No, guys. Really, I don’t need to try to find someone tonight. I’m only going out because you’re forcing me to,” you complain with a huff.

“Sure, babe. That vibrator that sits in your nightstand isn’t gonna get you anywhere fast. You need to be laid properly. So we’re gonna find you a man tonight if it’s the last thing we do,” Brianna says with a beam of a bright smile.

“Whatever, let’s just go. I need a drink,” you whine as they pull you out of the comfort of your small apartment and whisk you out the door, shoving you inside the White Cadillac that sits idle on the corner of the curb.

You slump in the front passenger seat as soon as Brianna drives off, entering the busy traffic of Austin as the city lights flash brightly outside the window. You sigh and lean on the edge of the window as Taylor Swift’s “Karma” blasts through the speakers. Taylor and Brianna sing along loudly, but you sit mute with your arms crossed across your chest.

“Oh, cheer up, babe! You’re supposed to be having fun tonight, not brooding in the corner like a pent up prisoner,” Brianna laughs as she hits your arm lightly.

“I’d be in a better mood if I was curled up on my couch with a good book,” you groan as you stifle out another sigh.

Taylor leans over the back of the front seat and takes a good look at you. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. You will have fun tonight whether you like it or not! This club is to die for. I know it just opened last year, but seriously it’s the hottest club in Austin,” she says excitedly with a big grin zipped across her contoured face.

“What’s the name of this club again?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“Club Inferno,” Taylor says with a smirk. “Inferno is right. It’s hot as fuck in there, and the men that go are super sexy,” she swoons as she sits back against her leather seat.

“Club Inferno, huh? Wonder how the owner came up with a name like that,” you ask curiously as you focus your sights on the busy sidewalks that are littered with dressed up couples and groups that look like they’re about to head to the club as well.

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe you can ask the owner yourself,” Brianna smirks in the front seat.

“Who’s the owner?” you ask, trying not to sound too intrigued.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t say online, but I hear rumors that he’s ridiculously hot. Like I’m talking about an 11/10 hot,” she smirks as she pulls into a parking spot a few feet from the lit up club.

“Sounds like someone I wouldn’t be interested in. He already sounds arrogant and like all the other men I’ve dated,” you spit out, a snarl hanging on your lips.

“Oh, just shut up and have some fun tonight, please. You’re killing my vibes,” she says as she rolls her eyes and puts the car in park.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll try to have fun,” you sigh as you step out of the car onto the hard concrete, pulling your dress down so it doesn’t ride up and expose too much skin.

“Good, now let’s go drink and dance!” Brianna and Taylor scream together. You just laugh and follow them to the front of the club, stopping at the metallic black double doors as you get your IDs checked. Once they give them back, you step into the club and gasp at the sight.

The inside is absolutely gigantic. The club sits two stories high with a shimmering disco ball hanging in the middle of the crowded dance floor. The walls are pitch black with red glowing signs all around that say “Club Inferno”. The sign that sits behind the bar is also glowing red and says “Sinners Welcome”. The bar has a large mirror splayed across the wall with bottles of beer and liquor stacked high against it. The bar top has a sleek dark wooden hue to it and the bar stools are made of black leather material.

There’s dark booths all around that are marked off for VIP lounges, private parties, or reservations made prior. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling as they make shiny patterns on the dark hardwood floors. An open lounge area sits in the opposite corner of the bar where leather couches and small glass tables sit scattered around. You look away when you see a cozy couple making out in a corner of one of the couches and try not to roll your eyes.

When you turn towards the dance floor, you see the glow of fluorescent blue and red flashing lights mix in with the glittering disco ball as the Dj spins some tracks on a large display against the wall. The dance floor is crowded, maybe two-hundred people at the least stand grinding up on each other as Rhianna blasts through the speakers. Two platforms with poles attached to the center sit in the back corners of the room for anyone to use at their leisure.

Behind the bar sits two long, dark hallways with various rooms attached down the shadowed corners of the hallway. A spiral staircase sits next to the second hall and leads up to the second floor. From here you can’t see what all is upstairs, but it looks like another bar sits up there and maybe some pool tables from what you can see. This club wasn’t anything like you expected it to be. You thought it’d be small and maybe less crowded. Boy, were you wrong.

“Don’t you love it in here?!” Taylor asks excitedly as she twirls around in her short forest green strapless dress and pulls you to the dance floor.

“It’s a lot bigger than I imagined it to be,” you shout out loudly against the beat of the music. “Tay, we just got here. Can’t we sit down?” you whine as Brianna pulls you into the middle of the raging crowd.

“Not until after a couple of dances,” Taylor smiles as she pushes her back against a man in a suit that grinds up against his blonde girlfriend. You groan but go along with them.

“Loosen up, hun. The night’s just started. We’ll get some alcohol in you, and you’ll be just fine,” Brianna beams as she grabs a few Jell-O shots from the bartender that makes her away across the busy dance floor. “Drink up!” she yells as she hands you a container of red liquid.

“Fine,” you groan as you pop the shot into your mouth and instantly taste cherry and vodka mixed together. It slides down your throat easily, and you put the empty vial on the bartender’s tray. Taylor and Brianna both cheer after you take the shot and start grinding up against each other as the music switches over to a Beyoncé song.

You decide to try to enjoy yourself and sway your hips, getting into the song as the dance floor rocks back and forth. You keep your focus on the shimmering disco ball and watch the way the sparkling glass reflects off the walls. You keep your eyes from staying too much in the crowd and focus on your friends as they lift their arms and shimmy their hips to the beat.

After a couple of long songs, they agree to take a break and get some drinks. You and Taylor find an empty couch and sit down while Brianna goes up to the bar and orders a round of LITs for the table. After a few minutes, she returns with the glasses of alcohol and passes them out. You take a big gulp and feel the remnants of alcohol run down your throat with a slight burning sensation staying stagnant in your mouth.

“So, see any cute guys you might be interested in?” Taylor asks as she looks around the crowded club, focusing her eyes on a tall man with short blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. “What about that one, huh? He’s kinda cute,” she says with a flirtatious smile as she eyes him.

You scrunch your nose up and shake your head. “No, Taylor. Not that one. Maybe you can go talk to him. He looks like your type,” you laugh as you watch her eye him up and down. You take another sip of your drink and set it on the glass table as the condensation drips down the glass.

Brianna smirks at you and looks from the bar, back to you a few times. “Bri, what? I know that look. That’s a plotting face you always make when you’re up to no good.”

She just smiles wider. “You see that man at the bar? That one on the left corner with the white collared button-up shirt?” She points him out and you flick your eyes over in that direction nonchalantly.

The man she points out is sitting in one of the barstools and sips casually on a cold glass of what looks to be whiskey. You slowly drag your eyes over him, taking in the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to expose thick veins that spider all the way down his arms to end in massive hands. His biceps bulge against the cotton material every time he flexes and moves to grab his cold glass of alcohol. His dark blue jeans press up against muscular thighs and a fancy black watch sits latched onto his left wrist. His hair is dark and streaked with grey lines as thick tousled curls sit wildly atop his head. A dark, patchy beard shadows his sculpted, sharp jawlines.

Your eyes move over his greying locks again slowly, taking in the way a couple curls fall against his forehead subtly. His curls look soft to the touch, you almost wonder what it’d be like to run your fingers through his hair or maybe drag your nails against that salt and pepper scruff…

You jolt out of your daydream as his eyes linger over to yours, calmly taking another drink of whiskey as his eyes stay locked on yours. You pull your eyes away and look back at Brianna. “What about him?” you ask with a shaky breath.

“The man hasn’t stopped looking at you since you walked into the club,” she giggles as you go wide-eyed.

“Oh, he has not. Please, he’s got to be looking at you or Taylor,” you reply as she looks back up at the bar.

“I don’t think so, honey,” Taylor laughs as she knocks you in the shoulder with her arm. “He’s looking straight at you.”

You look back up and freeze. His dark eyes find yours again as a small smirk appears on the edge of his mouth, curling into something that dares you to challenge his gaze. You suck in a breath and look back down, grabbing your drink as you try to calm your nerves down. Calm down, calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably not even interested in anything you have to say.

“You’re going to go talk to him,” Brianna smiles deviously as she narrows her eyes and smirks up at you.

“What?!” you choke out, the liquid flowing down your windpipes uncomfortably. “No, no way. I can’t.”

“Yes, you are,” Taylor encourages you. “He’s totally gorgeous. Like come on. He’s clearly at least in his upper forties. Older, probably has a lot of money, dresses nicely, and I see no wedding ring on him,” she smirks, eyes darkening as she gets up and pulls you along for the ride.

“No, Tay. Please, I can’t. I’m not…”

She cuts you off as Brianna joins in, pulling you towards the bar as your feet try to stay planted to the spot you’re in. “You’re not what? Look at you, you’re hot. Don’t waste it by being boring. Go talk to him,” she encourages as she pulls you further, halfway to the bar now as you see him in the corner of your vision eyeing you.

“No, guys. Come on. I’m too… I can’t…”

Brianna stops you from saying anything else. “Look, you're going to go talk to him, and he’s going to buy you a drink, and then me and Tay are going to go back out there and dance. And you’re going to go up there and flirt with him and twirl your hair and get his number,” she says seriously as she drags you to the edge of the bar.

“But I… he’s too… I can’t…” you stutter out.

“Go on, babe. You can do it.” Brianna and Taylor give you a hard push and shove you against the edge of the bar, only a few bar stools away from the man with the dark eyes. “Have fun,” Brianna whispers in your ear with a laugh as she grabs Taylor’s hand and leads her away from the bar, leaving you all alone with your heart pounding uncontrollably in your chest.

You take a seat on one of the empty black bar stools and rest your arms on the sleek bar top, looking over the menu nervously as you flip through the pages of drinks. You don’t look up, afraid that if you do you’ll lock eyes again with the handsome stranger. No more dating, no more dating, no more dating.

“Is this seat taken?” A deep Southern voice fills your ears as you look up and find the man with dark eyes looking down at you.

Fuck.

“Ummm no,” you answer shyly as you tuck a curl behind your ear, cursing your friends for pushing you into doing this.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod and he pushes back the empty bar stool, lightly brushing his leg against yours as a chill runs down your spine at the contact.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks as he looks you over slowly, making your eyes widen at the action.

“Oh, sure,” you respond meekly, putting the drink menu down before you rip it in half from the way you’re anxiously flipping through the pages.

“So, what’s your drink of choice?”

You muster up an ounce of courage and fire back a question without thinking. “What do you think my drink of choice is?” you ask flirtatiously, batting your eyelashes up at him as if to win him over. Your adrenaline spikes in your body, and it’s as if the alcohol turned you into another girl.

What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn’t like you. You don’t flirt with men at clubs, especially gorgeous men like him. But he’s so hot, you can’t resist. Fuck.

He chuckles at the question and drags his eyes nice and slow over your body, clenching his jaw up as he concentrates on you. You can see the calculations and assumptions he’s making swirl and tick in his mind. He’ll never guess right. He’s just like any other guy. They all get it wrong, always.

His eyes flick back up to your face as a gentle smile spreads over his mouth, forming dimples that press deep into his cheeks.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

“Hmmm, let me see,” he starts slow, his words slipping like melted butter off his tongue. “You don’t seem like the type to drink hard liquor. Fireball? Definitely not. Tequila? Can’t see it. But hmmm, let me guess…” He takes another good look at you and stares into your eyes. Those warm brown eyes searing through you as you melt into them.

God, those eyes. Those fucking brown doe eyes.

“Rum? Maybe. Vodka? Most likely. Whiskey… maybe a whiskey girl. But you…” He leans in closer, and you can smell the cologne dripping off his skin. Can practically taste the whiskey that encompasses his lips. Can almost feel how his mouth would taste with his tongue gliding against yours.

You focus on deep breaths as he rests his large hand right next to yours, barely brushing the tips of his fingers against yours as goosebumps start to crawl slowly up your arm. He laughs lightly as he forms a guess with a Southern drawl dripping off his tongue. “Malibu tonic? Guessin’ you’re a fruity cocktail kind of girl.”

“How did you know that’s one of my favorite drinks?” you ask with a wide-eyed stare.

“Just an assumption, sweetheart. I’m pretty good at readin’ people. Especially ones as pretty as yourself,” he smirks, turning toward the bar to call over one of the bartenders.

Sweetheart? Pretty? Oh fuck, you’re in trouble.

As soon as the blonde bartender comes over, he wastes no time and gives her your drink orders. “One Malibu tonic and one Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey on the rocks. Thanks, Hailey,” he smiles softly and nods as she smiles back and turns away, getting the drinks prepared in a flash.

Hailey? Of course he knows her by name. He probably knows every fucking girl in this obscene club by name.

You frown, a tinge of jealousy hitting the back of your closed up throat. But why are you jealous? You don’t care about this man, don’t care if he even buys you a drink. You don’t date, and there’s a reason you don’t anymore. But that’s a dark place you won’t go tonight or ever again.

He notices the shift in your mood as you sit up straighter and clench your jaw into place, focusing on not losing your temper over a simple thing as a name.

“Y’alright there? Look a little tense,” he asks, hovering his thick fingers closer to your hand as you pull away from him.

“I’m fine,” you bite back a little too harshly. He doesn’t respond, only nods. He knows you’re not fine, but he doesn’t press on it.

When the bartender comes over to drop off your drinks, you can’t help but notice the small silver name tag that’s latched on to the front of her black low-cut tank top. The name Hailey is in sparkly letters, and you feel shame instantly cover your face.

You’re a fucking idiot.

You take a sip of the fruity liquid and let it slide down the back of your throat, along with the bitterness and jealousy that was there seconds ago. You don’t even know his name, and you’re already acting jealous? Jesus. You’re in way over your head.

He takes a swig of his amber colored drink and swallows, a gentle smile returning to his handsome face. He sticks out his hand and you take it slowly, feeling the back of his calloused fingers as they burn into your hand, simmering like a hot fire as it runs through your veins. It’s firm, strong, powerful. And you know. You know you’re in trouble.

“The name’s Joel. What’s yours, sweetheart?” His hand lingers maybe a little too long in your hold, but you don’t shake him off. You just let him drop it when he’s ready, feeling the now cold hand as you flex your fingers into a fist in your lap, trying to remember exactly how his hand fit perfectly in yours.

You tell him your name, and it floats like a siren’s song off his lips, a trance like lull that sucks you in. “That’s a pretty name, darlin’. You come around here much? Haven’t seen you before. Think I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours,” he says with a smirk, his coffee colored eyes focused on you. You have to work hard to find words before you lose all control of your voice.

Pretty? Oh, he’s laying it on thick.

“No, but sounds like you’re a usual here. You come here a lot or something?” you ask, eyes fixed on the way he holds his crystal glass with a strong grasp.

“Somethin’ like that,” he chuckles, a look like he knows something you don’t displaying on the lines of his forehead.

“Of course you do. Not me, this is my first time here,” you say as you shift uncomfortably in your bar stool.

“And? How d’you like it?” he asks with questions lingering in his bright eyes.

“Honestly? It’s okay. It’s a little loud for my taste, but it’s decent,” you say as you take another sip of your fruity concoction.

“Oh, just decent? Tell me more of your thoughts,” he says as he puts an elbow on the bar top and leans his cheek on his knuckles, waiting for you to answer.

You shake your head. “Nah, you don’t want to hear my thoughts. They’re… well, they’re…” You lose yours words to the blaring music that stirs across the crowded dance floor.

“Enlighten me,” he says with a husky voice while he stirs the amber liquid, eyes fixed intently on you.

You gulp at the sharp eyesight, your knees knocking against the smooth bar walls anxiously. “Well, there’s no food here for starters. I’d kill for some chicken strips right now,” you groan, salivating at the thought of food right now.

He laughs in response. “Sweetheart, this is a club. This ain’t a cheap bar with finger foods.”

You snap back at him. “Well, it’d be a hell of a lot better if the club had some.”

His eyebrows raise in defense, holding out a hand to calm you down. “Alright, calm down, tiger. Gonna start seeing claws in a second,” he laughs as you sigh and nod your head. “What else?” he asks.

“What else what?” you question as you swirl your drink around mindlessly.

“What else would you change about the club?” His eyebrows knit together like he’s concentrating on what you have to say.

When was the last time a guy ever listened to you? Whatever, he asked so you’ll tell him exactly what you think.

“The signs are all red. It’d look better if there were also pink ones. Gives some light contrast and a more subtle look,” you shrug, sipping on more of the tasty alcohol in your hands.

“Hmmm, might not be a bad idea. Anything else?” His gaze stays on you as he throws back a gulp of whiskey, sitting the crystal glass back on the edge of the flat bar top.

“Why do you care? I’m just rambling,” you say with a convicted tone.

“I might’ve talked to the owner a couple of times here and there. Might give him some suggestions next time I see him,” he smirks, making you roll your eyes at his perfect dimples.

God, why does he have to be so pretty.

“Okay then,” you say with a smug look. “The alcohol menu could use some more options, other than tons of beers. Make it more friendly for cocktails and mixed drinks. And the VIP booths? Maybe save some for general guests to reserve when they get here. The Dj? He needs to mix up the tunes, these songs get old pretty quick. Throw some throwbacks in there, play some more upbeat rock songs. And for rooms? Maybe open up some private rooms for guests who want to chill in a quieter area where they can think. It’s fucking loud in here,” you say sternly as you cross your leg over your knee and give him a devious smirk, feeling like you just let him have it.

All he does is shake his head and let out a low whistle, a small chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest. “You’re a little firecracker, ain’t ya? Shit. You sure got a lot to pick apart. Don’t ya?”

You just shrug nonchalantly. “It’s just what I’d do differently. Not that my opinion matters.”

“Sure it does, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to give him the rundown when I see him.” He winks at you, and you feel a weird flutter in your stomach that you shouldn’t even be feeling. You chase it down with another drink of alcohol, letting the burn fill the void.

“This isn’t your scene I’m guessin’?” he asks carefully, honey eyes drawing back to yours again patiently.

“No, it’s really not,” you shake your head defeatedly. “My friends dragged me out tonight, said I needed to get out of the house and let loose. I had a really long week and I was looking forward to staying in with a glass of wine, but no. Just had to come out,” you say with a huff, your cheeks growing crimson with the sudden awareness of your bad attitude and complaining.

Christ. Just calm the fuck down. You’re going to scare him off.

“What is your scene then?” he asks, ignoring your whole meltdown about coming out in the first place.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes, surprised he wants to continue the conversation with your depressing ass.

“What’s your scene, angel?”

Angel. Oh.

“Oh, uh. I… I like more quiet environments. Like bookstores. There’s nothing more I like than strolling through a bookstore with an iced coffee in my hand, just smelling the fresh pages of the books,” you smile, thinking of the last time you went to the local bookstore and fawned over the latest edition of The Odyssey. Classics were some of your favorites.

“Books, huh? What’s your favorite?” he asks, general curiosity piqued as he continues staring at you, fixedly.

You eye him suspiciously but continue. “Pride and Prejudice,” you say quietly, eyes averting from his momentarily.

“Ahh, a classic. We are all fools in love,” he quotes almost perfectly, his Southern accent making every word sound like sweet poetry to your ears.

Your eyes grow wider, shock hitting your system. “You know Jane Austen?” you ask incredibly, your hand gripping your cup uncomfortably tight.

“Mhm. Read most of her books,” he says without a hint of surprise in his voice.

He reads classic books. Holy shit.

“Wow. That’s uh-” you lose your concentration, mouth gawking open at him. He reaches out and closes your jaw for you, his calloused fingers burning your skin the more he touches you.

“Don’t act too surprised. Some men like to read the classics too,” he smirks as he drops his hand, ending the contact way too soon. “What else?”

“Huh?” you ask, still shocked at his last words.

“What else do ya like?” His weight shifts just a tad and his knee skims yours as goosebumps form over your skin, the contact almost too much for you.

“Why?” you ask, almost self conscious of yourself. There’s way more interesting girls here than you, more up to his liking probably. You’re boring while all these other girls know how to party. You’re an introvert, you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be talking to him.

“Why what?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows, the lines above his forehead wrinkling at the notion as one of his tousled curls fall into his face. You almost want to push it back for him, almost.

“Why the interest in me? I’m not... I’m…”

“You’re not what?” he almost barks out as his eyes get a shade darker. It’s a little intimidating and makes you sit up straighter, aware of all the sulking you’ve done this evening. You’re just making it worse for yourself. You’re going to scare him off.

“I’m not like all these other girls in here. I’m… I’m shy, reserved. I don’t even come close to some of these women in here. I’m…”

He cuts you off as he cups your chin with his large hand, syrupy eyes clouding your vision as he stares at you intently. It makes your heart speed up frantically as blood rushes through your ears uncontrollably.

“That’s the point, sweetheart. You’re not like the rest of them. You’re interesting. You caught my attention. And you’re stunning,” he says smoothly as his eyes drop down the length of you, taking in the large slit in your tight black dress and trailing back up to your eyes, a breath catching deep in your throat.

He drops his hand from your chin and turns back to his glass of whiskey, pouring another shot down his throat as he slides it back against the sleek bar top, running a hand through his wild curls.

God, you want to run your hands through those curls, want to feel just how soft and silky they really are…

A rough voice pulls you from your distant thoughts as a tall, bulky man dressed in all black slides up beside you in the next bar stool, ogling your body as he fans his eyes over you in a disgusting manner. You want to roll your eyes and ignore him already.

“Aren’t you a sexy thing? Let me buy you a drink. What’ll it be? Tequila, beer on tap?” he asks with a snide smirk on his face.

“I've got her well taken care of. Thanks for the offer, though. But she won’t be needing that drink,” he faintly growls under his breath, placing his large hand on your leg as he curls his calloused fingers around your inner thigh slowly. You about jump from the warm contact and how it instantly eases you in a weird way. You barely know the man, why did this feel… safe?

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize she was with anyone,” he huffs, eyeing Joel’s hand on your bare thigh as it burns through your skin like a scalding stove.

He’s just a man. He’s just a man. Get it together. You’re not doing this tonight.

“Think she’s in good hands,” Joel breathes, his voice deep and gruff as his eyes narrow at the man. He turns with a nod and walks in the opposite direction, going to find his next victim.

Joel keeps his thick fingers pressed to your thigh for a few more seconds then releases his hand, the same time you let go of the breath you were holding. “Uhh, thanks,” you say awkwardly, leaning against the bar top to look him in the eyes again. In those pretty brown doe eyes that light up tingling feelings that you want to keep at bay.

No hookups. None.

“No problem, sweetheart,” he says as he turns to look at you again, eyes lingering on more unanswered questions.

“So, you seein’ anyone?” he asks as he drags his thumb over the rim of his glass cup, slowly collecting condensation on the tip of his thumb. The sight makes you gulp.

“No,” you say quietly, shaking your head slowly.

“You’re tellin’ me that a girl as beautiful as you isn’t seein’ anyone?” he asks in disbelief, a small disbelieving laugh leaving his lips.

“Well, I’m not,” you shrug, eyes flicking back and forth between the thumb that languidly glides around the edge of the glass and his honey eyes that stay focused on you. It’s intimidating, to say the least.

“Why not?” he asks curiously, an eyebrow raising in question as he waits for your answer. You don’t really have a good one for him, not really wanting to go into the traumatic ex boyfriends you had been with before.

“I dunno. Just haven’t found the right one, I guess. Been busy. And besides, I’m not…” You stop mid sentence, staring at Joel’s scowl on his face. What was he so mad about now? What had you said?

“Don’t give me that answer. Sweetheart, the entire bar is staring at you.” You look behind you and gasp. He’s right. All the men gathered around the counter are trailing their eyes to you, eyes ogling you from a distance, hoping to get a chance to talk to you.

You swing your bar stool back around and stop as your knees lock with his, your eyes focusing on him. Only him. “As for me, I’ve had my eyes on you the minute you stepped through those doors. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, sweetheart. A real angel, at best,” coffee eyes honing in on you like a hawk stalking its prey. Suddenly you can’t hear the noisy music, can’t hear the clicking of the glasses behind you. It’s just you and Joel, in your own little bubble as the words crash down on you like a siren’s song.

Gorgeous. Sweetheart. You’re in trouble.

“Oh,” is all you can gasp out. He’s charming, almost too charming. And you hate him for it. Hate him for how he’s making you feel. Like you’re special, like you mean something. It makes you sick, so fucking sick.

You take a slow drink of your alcohol, hoping the taste will cool you off from the heat he just gave you. “Tell me, angel. When’s the last time a man has gotten you off?”

You choke on your drink and spit it out, wiping the cloth napkin over your chin as you catch your breath. “Excuse me?” you ask in disbelief.

“You heard me. It’s a simple question. When’s the last time a man has gotten you off?” His jaw tics and his eyebrow rises, his eyes hounding you as he waits for your answer.

You’re speechless, not believing what you just heard. But the way he’s looking at you now tells you he won’t back off till he knows. So you amuse him. “It’s been a couple of years,” you answer quietly, your voice barely audible above the ringing music.

“A couple years?” Joel asks incredulously. “Christ. No wonder you’ve been uptight lately. Y’need somebody to make you feel good, ain’t that right?” he asks with a rough, gravelly voice as he inches closer to you, your hands digging into the material of your black dress as he comes closer, closer, closer.

“I… I’m fine,” you say nervously, but he keeps leaning in, body hovering over yours as his hand ghosts over your thigh, causing goosebumps to raise in his presence.

“You’re not fine, sweetheart. You’re trembling. Your legs are shaking,” he points out as he trails his fingers lightly over your thigh, his whiskey breath breathing down your neck as he runs his lips across the shell of your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end.

“I could make you feel so good, sweetheart. Could make you feel things you’ve never felt before. You want it, don’t ya? I can almost smell how bad you want it,” he teases as he whispers into your ear, making your legs squeeze tighter together as you hold in a whine of need.

Fuck, stop. Not tonight, not with him. He’s too charming, too tempting, too hot for you.

The edge of his patchy salt and pepper scruff slides against your jaw, making you want to run your fingers profusely through it as you drag your nails over him. Imagining his mouth between your legs, his tongue on your clit as he makes meticulous circles over you.

Fuck.

You catch your breath and watch him pull back just the slightest, his honey eyes now darker in shade, more prominent as his pupils expand wider into dark circles. “Let me give it to ya, angel. Let me take care of you,” he says with bared teeth, a devilish grin taking form on his face as his body crowds yours against the bar stool, just hovering as his hands cover the sides of you, fingers barely grazing your hips that send a fire right through your lungs.

You catch your breath and say the most logical response. “I don’t need it. I don’t do this, I don’t…”

“You don’t what, darlin’? Don’t let a man make you feel good? Don’t let a man touch you where you need it most?” he purrs, calloused fingers finding your thigh as he runs his hand up your smooth skin, leaving burn marks with every place he touches. It’s hot, sadistic, evil.

“I… I…” You’re completely flustered from him, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. He’s so fucking charming and handsome and fuck. He’s trying to coax you, and he’s doing a damn good job at it, too.

“I can see how bad you want it,” he purrs. “The way your cheeks are flushed, and your breathing is erratic. The way you’re squeezing your thighs together as if to pretend that ache isn’t stirring in there for me. The way you keep sucking on your bottom lip and staring at me with those needy, pretty eyes,” he coaxes, leaning into you again as he runs his hot tongue over the shell of your ear.

And fuck, does it feel good.

“You want it, baby. Give in. Let me fix that throbbing ache in that pretty pussy of yours. Let me turn this good little angel into a bad little devil,” he growls, making a wave of slick run down your center as you choke on a moan. He only laughs at your needy response, your middle completely full of warmth now from his daring actions and smoldering words.

When he finally pulls back, you ask the one question that keeps ringing in your mind. “What’s in it for you?” you ask with the cock of your eyebrow, chin jutting out as you wait for an obnoxious answer that any other man would give you.

“Only the pleasure of knowing I took care of you,” he smirks, eyes glazing over at you with hunger in his deep voice.

“What? You’re not gonna make me get on my knees and give you a blowjob like any other guy would?” you ask with the taste of metallic in your throat, bitter and stale as you swallow it back down. That’s what any other man would do. No one’s ever asked what you wanted, only what they needed. Sick fucks.

“No,” he answers honestly.

“No?” you ask with bewildered eyes.

“No. I’m not other guys, sweetheart,” he states simply, the hunger still there in his dark eyes as his chest rises and falls in waves. He’s looking at you with so much intent in his eyes that it makes you dizzy.

“So, what do you say? Want me to make you feel good?” he asks as he licks his lower lip seductively. The sight about knocks you out of your chair.

“I-uh. I… need a moment. Where are the bathrooms?” you ask hurriedly as you stand up from the bar stool, pulling your short dress down over your thighs.

“Down that dark hall and first door on your left,” he says as he points in the direction of the bathrooms. You nod and race off, dodging a couple making out as you walk around them, eager to get to the bathroom.

You shove past some people dancing and walk as fast as your high heels can carry you. You make your way through the dim lit hallway and crash into the door, swinging it open as you step into the lavish, huge bathroom. You stop at the porcelain sink and look into the lit up mirror as you stare at your reflection.

You freeze when you see just how flushed you are. Your eyes are as wide as an owl’s and the veins in your neck are pulsing like crazy. Your lace panties are drenched, and you’re so turned on that you feel as if you’re about to explode. You need to cum, you need to stop the ache in between your thighs.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t hook up with guys. This isn’t like you. But Joel… Joel is so devilishly handsome, so charming, a gentleman, a smooth talker. He practically got you off by just hovering over you and whispering dirty words into your ear. He was too much, this was too much. You should just go back home. But you want this. You want him.

You take one more long look at yourself in the mirror and sigh, hands digging into the sink as you give up completely. Fuck it. You want him, so you’ll have him.

When you open the door and leave the lit up bathroom, you about topple over as you hit something that feels like a thick brick wall. You look up and realize it’s Joel you crash into. You gawk at the way he leans up against the wall, clearly waiting for an answer from you.

“So, decide what you’re gonna do, angel?” he asks smoothly, his thick voice dripping like syrup all over you.

Fuck this. This man is a menace.

He takes a step forward and you take one back, a game of tag going on. But it’s not just any tag. No. He’s the hungry wolf, and he came to eat you alive.

“Not exactly…” you whisper, your voice caught in your throat.

He chuckles lightly as he takes another step forward and another, backing you up into the dark hallway that seems to go on for miles. “It’s simple, sweetheart. You can either leave or you can let me indulge you,” he purrs as he comes closer, chasing you like a game of cat and mouse.

“What if I don’t want to?” you ask out of breath, your voice getting choked up as you swallow down want and desire.

He clicks his tongue at you, coming in for the kill. “Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t be coy. I can smell the arousal already drippin’ from you. Can see how bad you want this with the way your eyes widen and lips part for me,” he says seductively, pupils blowing out as he takes a step forward and another one until he’s successfully backed you into the darkest corner of the hallway he can manage.

You knock into the cold black wall and gasp when he cages you in, letting his hands linger against your thighs as you feel the heat of his fingertips press into your hip bones. He leans over and presses his lips to the shell of your ear, whispering incantations into it as you fall into a dreamlike trance.

“Y’know, there’s more than one way to seduce a lady. I can teach you so many things, angel. Can make you cum in more ways than one, can make you feel things you’ve only dreamt about,” he whispers, letting one of his hands run up the side of your thigh, gradually lifting your dress as he teases you with his hot breath hitting your ear.

“Yeah?” you ask audibly, your own voice betraying you as you give in to his coaxing.

“Mmmm. Yeah, that’s right. Ya want it, angel? Want me to show you what I’m talkin’ about?” he asks as he blows gently in your ear, making slick pool in your center as a whine gets caught in your throat.

“Mhm,” you choke out while holding in a moan.

“Say it. Say it,” he purrs out, the soft lilt of his voice hitting the back of your spine as tingles start to pour down your body. “Pretty, pretty please. Need to hear you say it,” he whispers, his hot breath breathing down your neck like a sauna you want to jump head first into.

“Yes, yes. Want you to show me,” you plead, your voice needy with want.

“Gotta say please first,” he teases as he spreads your legs apart and places his leg in between yours, hiking his knee up to brush against your clothed folds. You whine at the action.

“Please, Joel. Pleaseeee,” you beg.

“Good girl,” he praises as he lifts the skirt of your dress, cupping his hand over your sex as you writhe in his grasp. He smirks at you and pushes the lace to the side, freeing your wet pussy as the cold air hits it, making you bite your lip in response.

He slides two calloused fingers through your wet folds, gliding down lower as he sinks them inside your dripping hole. You moan at the feeling.

“Christ. You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, angel,” he groans, hooking them up to that sweet spongy spot that makes you see stars. You choke on a moan as you clench around him.

“Ahh, there it is. There’s that sweet spot,” he purrs as he goes in knuckles deep into your wetness. He gently slides his digits out and drags his covered fingers up, up, up, as they find your clit and run slow, meticulous circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you moan out as you grab the front of his shirt and moan into his ear, digging your fingers into the cotton material as you hold on for dear life.

“That’s right, angel. Let me hear you, that’s a good girl,” he praises. He takes the two drenched fingers that were just inside you and pop them in his mouth, sucking off all the slick that covers his large digits. Your jaw drops at the sight.

“God, you taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he groans as he shifts his leg in between yours again, bending it just slightly as he cages you in again.

The room is hot, humid, loud, and you’re fully aware that anyone could walk down here and see you fully on display as Joel has his way with you. But you don’t care, don’t say anything about it. You just want him.

Him, him, him.

“Now, sweetheart. Gonna need you to do something for me. Call this lesson one on ways to get you off,” he instructs as he digs his hands into your hips and pulls you forward to where you’re level with his muscled thigh. “Want ya to ride me, angel,” he says, voice gravelly and hot in your ear.

“You want me to… ride you? How?” you ask with your brows knitted together.

“On my thigh, sweetheart. C’mon. Put that pretty pussy on my thigh. Want you to cover my jeans, baby. Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he coaxes, dragging your hips forward until you’re resting your center on his clothed thigh.

“Oh,” you respond as he slowly grinds your hips into his jeans, showing you exactly what he wants you to do. He lets go and lets you set the pace, taking control as your clit drags against the rough material, catching on the most sensitive areas as you pull him closer and dig your nails into his shirt, stifling out a moan as you move up and down, up and down. Feeling the building pressure low in your stomach as you choke on another moan.

“There ya go, that’s a good girl. Ride me just like that, angel. Doin’ so good,” he praises as you feel just how turned on he’s getting. The bulge is tight around his zipper, and you can see just how big and thick he is underneath the dark denim.

Fuck. You want him, you want him so fucking bad but you’ll have to wait because right now you can’t focus on anything but your building orgasm. It’s so… it’s sooo. Oh.

You rub your aching clit against the curve of his large thigh, grinding into him as you hit that spot again and again as you rut down into him even more, gripping the edge of his shirt so tight that you swear you’re about to rip it off him.

“Joellll, it feels good,” you moan with ragged breaths as he leans down and licks the shell of your ear, whispering dirty thoughts as his hot breath runs down the base of your neck, making you sweat against his large form.

“Yeah? Just like that, angel. Bein’ such a fuckin’ good girl,” he praises with a low, gravelly voice as it consumes you whole, sending more slick down his jeans as you continuously ruin his denim.

You moan again at the praise. This is so hot, he’s so hot. And he’s so good with his words. He could sweet talk you all night long just like this if he wanted to.

“You like that, huh? Like bein’ told how good of a girl you’re bein’,” he smirks, dragging his lips over your jaw as you smell his woodsy, whiskey scent all over you. You want to taste it, drink it up till you’re drunk on him, suffocate on his intoxicating scent as it spirals you into a pit of warmth.

“Yes, yes,” you whine as he presses his thigh deeper into your center, feeling the wave of pleasure take over as you’re right there. So close, but not quite there. Almost, almost.

“C’mon, angel. Be a good girl and cum for me. Wanna see you coat my thigh with your sweet cum,” he growls, lowering his hands to your ass as he squeezes and presses your hips forward, rocking into his leg as you ride the pleasure out, feel that building release about to break.

He drops his plush lips against your neck and sucks just above your collarbone, right against the sensitive spot that drives you crazy as you moan against his lips on your skin. You feel the smirk grow on his lips as a low groan comes from his mouth as he bites down again, feeding your raw adrenaline that chases your pleasure.

The blaring music and chanting crowd disappears from the room, becoming muddled as you focus on what’s in front of you, the strong arms that grip you and clench you down to his thigh, the dark eyes that envelop you as you slide deeper and deeper into a dreamlike state. You can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything other than your ragged moans, Joel’s labored breathing, the feel of his denim against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the calloused fingers that tease the back of your thighs, the hot breath that blows down your neck as he crowds your space. It’s just you and Joel, nothing else matters. Nothing else but this. Whatever this may be.

You jar forward, catching your clit on a wrinkle as it tugs at you, screaming your name to let go. Let go, let go. You can feel the white hot heat take hold of you, feel it slowly sliding down your center as your insides flutter and clench around nothing. You’re about to cum, about to release your heat all over him. And he knows. He knows.

“Don’t be shy, angel. Let me have it. Cum for me,” he growls dominantly, wrapping his hands tight around your waist as he pushes you down deep against the denim covering his thighs, pressing your throbbing clit at just the right spot as you feel yourself let go.

You dig your fingers into the collar of his shirt and press your face against the crook of his neck as you cum hard, feeling the slick spill out of you as you tense up over his thigh, squeezing your fingers around him as you moan his name loudly into his ear, hearing your breath hitch as he hums in approval.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Say my name. Yeah, just like that. There ya go,” he praises as he rocks you gently against his thigh, making sure you get every ounce of cum out of your dripping pussy.

You take a minute to come back down to earth, back to where you don’t hear the ringing in your ears, where you don’t see the bright lights covering your vision anymore. He slowly lets his hands loosen around your waist, gently leaning you back against the wall as he slides you off his thigh, covering your soaked folds with your ruined panties as he sets them back in place against your center. You wince as his fingers brush up over your sensitive clit and let him pull your skirt back down over your thighs.

He takes a step back and brushes his fingers against the damp stain on his jeans, slowly bringing them up to his mouth as he sucks his thick digits into his mouth, lapping up your slick as he stares straight at you with blown out pupils, making you gawk at the sight.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Goddamn.” He curses again under his breath and drops them to his side as he sticks them deep in his pocket looking for something. Whatever he grabs, he covers it in the base of his palm, not letting you quite see what it is.

“Did you enjoy that… lesson?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow up as he stares at you with wild eyes, his tousled curls a mess as sweat beads at a few of the curls pressed against his forehead.

Lesson? Does this mean there would be more?

“Mhm,” you hum out, too fucked out to give a straight answer right now as you were still stuck on the fact that this man had just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life. Not even your vibrator was a match for him. And he hadn't even put his mouth on you yet or put his cock in you. That was saying something.

He was dangerous, tempting, a bad habit you could get used to. He was trouble, a menace. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care. You wanted more, needed more from him. Just him.

It’s like he hears your thoughts, smirking up at you as he lifts your chin and brushes his calloused thumb against your bottom lip, his eyes trailing down to stare at them as if he was thinking of sinking his mouth down on you. You hold your breath, not ready for that yet. It was too soon, too intimate of a thing.

He drops his thumb from your lip and trails it against your jawline, dropping down a level so his eyes sink into yours.

Fuck, he’s hot.

“If you ever need anything and I mean anything, I’m just a phone call away.” He grabs your hand as he sticks a business card in your palm, closing your fingers over it as he brings your hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of your knuckles as you suck in a deep breath as his soft lips kiss your skin. It feels good. So good.

“Hope to see you soon, angel.” He drops your hand back to your side as he winks and smirks a devilish grin your way, turning back around as he makes his way back towards the rush of the crowd, entering the noise once more as you watch him disappear into a sea of people as his tousled curls get pulled into the bodies, leaving you standing in shock in the dark alone.

You uncurl your fingers and run them along the edge of the glossy white business card. You turn it over and read it once, twice, three times as your eyes widen. You read it once more to make sure your eyes don’t deceive you, but you only see the same thing sprawled across the card each time. It reads Joel Miller: Owner of Club Inferno. His number sits above the words, leaving you breathless as you realize just who you were talking to earlier. Who you were complaining to earlier.

Holy shit. Joel was the club owner?!

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You were in trouble. You were in so much fucking trouble. How would you show your face here again? You wouldn’t. Unless…. unless you decided to come back for more. And you wanted more with him.

You take a deep breath and lean against the cold wall, trying to get ahold of yourself as you rethink everything that had happened tonight. The drinks, the conversations, the flirting, the fucking part where he made you cum while he pressed you against his strong, muscular body.

As you close your eyes for a second and swallow down your orgasmic high from minutes ago, you slowly open them back up and come to terms with yourself. You can’t see yourself not coming back here and not letting him give you another lesson…

You need it, need him. You’d never had a man make you feel so bold, so sexy before in your life. And the way he was all about what felt good to you? Well it was… exhilarating. You wanted more, craved more. So you knew right then, you had to come back. For one more thrill, one more touch, one more orgasm. You’d come back… for him.

Joel Miller was going to be the fucking bane of your existence, you just knew it.

[digenerate-trash]

Yan dol master list.

this shows who has been done and who hasn't been done yet. if you want more from a specific character or group of characters in Dol (or if you have a prompt for anything just send an ask!!! I love asks!!!)

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Head cannon list (and bonus stuff):

School crew: 

Whitney - HeadCannons YanWhitneyFicList

Robin - HeadCannons YanRobinFicList

Kylar - HeadCannons YanKylarFicList

Sydney - HeadCannons YanSydneyFicList

Inner city freaks: 

Bailey - HeadCannons BaileyFicList

Leighton - HeadCannons

Avery - HeadCannons YanAveryFicList

Quinn - HeadCannons

Harper - Harper YanHarperFicList

Shady edge of towners:

Briar - Headcannons Jealous Bailey VS briar Bailey and Brair VS Valentines

Mickey - Headcannons YanMickeyFicList

Landry - Headcannons

False safety: 

Jordan - Headcanons Jordan ask

Charlie - Headcanons

Darryl - Headcanons

Sam - Headcanons

Morgan -

Niki - Headcanons

Farm boys:

Remy - HeadCannons Remy VS Brair

Wren - Headcannons

Alex - HeadCannons

Teachers: 

Sirris - HeadCannons YanSirrisFicList

River - HeadCannons

Doren - HeadCannons

Winter - HeadCannons

Mason - HeadCannons

Woods: 

Gwylan - HeadCannons

Ivory Wraith - HeadCannons IvoryFicList

Eden - HeadCannons

Black Wolf - HeadCannons

Great Hawk - HeadCannons

The archetypes im using as a lose guide

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Polls:

current

writing prompt polls: - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 -

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Drawings

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Asks

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Headcanon lists

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Bonus

[lcvescountdown]

[lackadaisicallizard]

Attention

There’s a man talking to Evan Rosier. 

Well actually talking isn’t the right word for what he’s doing in the dark club with the swirling lights and pulsating beats. There’s one hand on Evan’s back as he leans in, closing the gap between their sweat-soaked bodies and he brushes his ear with his lips, whispering something lost to the thumping bass as it forms a steady, rhythmic heartbeat that courses through the entire space. 

No, this man isn’t just talking. He’s flirting. 

He’s not the first person that’s tried his luck with Evan tonight, or last week, or last month, or every single time he comes into Barty’s club dressed in tight clothes pressed against olive skin, dancing to the music with movements that seem to weave an irresistible spell, drawing gazes and curiosity from everyone around him. He pays them little attention though, focusing on his friends and the beat and making just enough eye contact with Barty from where he stands leaning against the bar that it’s clear he knows exactly who he is and exactly what he’s doing.  

But the difference this time with the man wearing a smug smile and far too many gold chains to even be considered fashionable- is that Evan seems to be responding. He’s leaning into the touch and smiling and placing one of his hands on the man’s hips, and as his fingers curl around the tight leather wrapped around them Barty feels his own grip his glass tighter, his knuckles straining against it as he watches the two men move together on the packed dance floor. On Barty’s dance floor. In Barty’s building, with Barty’s alcohol coursing through their veins. In fact, Barty owns everything in this building. 

Well, almost. He doesn’t own Evan Rosier. 

He wants to. 

Fuck, he wants to. 

The man leans in again and says something into Evan’s ear before moving back just enough to see his expression. Evan nods and the man moves away, letting his hand linger against his back before making his way over to the bar. Barty can hear him now as he speaks to a member of his bar staff, ordering two rum and cokes, and she moves to grab two glasses. 

The rum isn’t even out of the bottle before Barty is standing beside her, his eyes fixed on the frowning man as he speaks. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” He raises his voice just loud enough to be heard above the noise.

“Wait what, why?”

Barty shrugs. “Let’s call it disrespect.” 

The man furrows his eyebrows. “Mate, I don’t even know you.” 

Barty places his hands on the bar and leans in slightly. “I really don’t give a shit mate. Get out of my club.” 

The man hesitates for a moment, his expression a mixture of indignation and confusion, before he glances back at Evan, who has stopped dancing, watching the scene unfold with dark eyes. With a huff, the man turns and navigates his way through the throngs of dancing bodies towards the exit.

Ignoring the mass of people waiting to be served, Barty moves behind the bar, preparing a mojito with expert skill born from years of practice. By the time he’s finished, Evan is standing in front of him, the expression on his face silently accusing. With a deliberate calm, Barty slides Evan’s favourite drink across the bar. 

"You deserve someone who pays attention," Barty remarks and Evan just stares at him for a moment, his expression unreadable until the corner of his lips curls up into a smirk. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says as he picks up the drink and turns back to the dance floor, deftly avoiding the gaze of a girl who clearly wants him to notice her. He doesn’t, though. In fact, he continues to not notice people for long enough that they all eventually give up staring at him. 

Well, almost everyone. 

(This is written for/ dedicated to @mochafrappiccinolatte and very much inspired by/ taken from @sebbianas' genius brain.)

[copperpipes]

✨Menace✨

Cat propaganda shitpost 💥