𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞. ⁽ ˢᴱᴹᴵ ᴴᴵᴬᵀᵁˢ ⁾

suggested connections: local girl / club member’s daughter / anyone basically.

         brock sits, marginally uninterested in the clubhouse as the figure before him settles against the carpet; illuminated only by the open fire, can see her pink little cunt glistening. so desperate for him that she’s presenting herself in such a belittling manner ; he appreciates that, appreciates that they’re willing to humiliate themselves in order to earn his attention  ––  other members are milling in and out, clearly entertained by the girl’s desperation just as he was. ‘ that’s a pretty, little pussy you got there; does your daddy know you’re offering it to me to ruin ? ’

         doesn’t question what she lacks which prompts her to indulge in this relationship; doesn’t delve into her own psyche to try and discover what it is that tells her this is a good idea. hangs on his every movement, every small verbal reassurance that he WANTS her there ; almost expects him to retract his suggestion, insist that he does in fact have work to do ! knows that’s why she pries, digs around behind his back in an attempt to further her ability to understand him  ;  knows that’s his worst nightmare, but doesn’t see another option. willingly retreats from the desk, wonders why he feels the need to guide her  ––  as if somehow she was the one with the penchant for distancing them   /   won’t comment verbally however, is all too satisfied with the fact he’s actually willing to spend time with her after their little .. discussion. femme displaying just the slightest of smug tendencies as she ventures out towards assumed vehicle, digits looping around the handle when he speaks   ––   as if words of warning would deter her from growing bolder in terms of whatever they were. ‘ don’t worry, my expectations will remain very low, ’ syllables ALMOST teasing, although there’s lacings of truth soaked into the meaning   ––    ‘ calm down, romeo, this is a car not a white horse. ’

open to | m/f/nb connection | neighbor about muse | kat mcnamara fc. nineteen years old, in college, recently given a false terminal illness diagnosis. thinks she’s got less than a year left to live. and is acting out of character because of it!

letting oneself into another’s home in the middle of the night with a spare key and no head’s up crossed all sorts of boundaries. even in her less than sober state of mind maia knew as much, though it hardly derailed her. she entered the home a blur of red and white. her cherry colored pea coat dusted with a layer of snow that fell and littered the hardwood floor with every ungraceful footstep. wordlessly and barely paying any mind to the rest of her surrounding’s maia slipped her way down the hallway and into the bedroom. carelessly tossing her jacket aside to crawl on to the bed, snuggling into the sleeping figure, planting a soft kiss against the crook of their neck. “are you sleeping?“

@24sins

     it wasn’t the type of place she had found herself in before but not one she hadn’t thought she would find herself. reagan had always had a flare for dramatics, an insatiable rebellious streak. it was only  matter of time before she ended up in a cess pool like the garage. brown eyes watched as  bodies rolled and gyrated, one eyebrow cocked as a girl approached her, asking her if she wanted a private dance. one hand waved the girl off, the other pulling an illegally obtained brandy to her lips. several songs passed before a man was approaching, offering a ‘he will see you now’ as if this was some knock off, god father remake. with a sigh, she rose, following the goon back into where she could only assume the offices were.

      luck was in the game long enough to know this size of an order was overly abundant young adult with a birthday extravaganza under their belt or an arrogant man with three bodyguards and a generic nine millimeter glock holstered to his left hip   ─   either situation needing his personal overseeing, as opposed to those beneath him.  the music of the club fed through the vent on the floor, keeping the office from falling into a silence too consoling.  with the echo of an opening door, brown eyes peeked up from a scribbled list in front of him, folding the piece of looseleaf up and tucking it into an inside pocket of his jacket.  a curse underlined his exhale.  he’d honestly been hoping for the second option, a little more fun to close the night.  an unabashed gaze leveled her from head to toe.  “ typical. ”  a wave of two fingers gestured to the seat on the opposite side of the desk. 

      knows he’ll never be an open book ; doesn’t expect change, so when he does vocalise something, touch her without it being an action to initiate more, she appreciates it  ––  allows it to soothe doubts that inhabit own mind. hand drops from where it had come to a halt against his sternum, feels odd to be this close with no direct contact, she’d grown used to the feeling however; had to remind herself he wasn’t keen on being clung to, would never be the kind of guy to hold her hand while she introduced him to her friends. yet, this was enough ; brief touches, small inklings that he didn’t despise her company. ‘ yours ? ’ how better to know someone than to spend as much time in the place they resided in ?  ––  wonders how much time he even spent there, notes tired optics upon each of their meetings ; indication of an insomniac, won’t comment on it  ––  however, blonde refrained from the goodnight text she would offer to others, didn’t think he’d appreciate such a gesture.

     leo had been set on making his place a sex den, fully married to the idea of not emerging for days… but if it was adventure he wanted who was she to turn him down. “wonders of detroit? does that include being shot? i hear that happens a lot ‘round these parts and i’d rather not die. .  i’m up for a grammy, y’know?” though, frankly how could he forget. she took the chance to remind everyone she could as often as she could. perhaps being humble wasn’t her strong suit. with a groan, she rose, one hand to her back as if she were older than the city itself. 

     brown eyes rolled into the back of her skull, tongue running over processed whites before she was sucking at them, her fingers still working into his scruff. “do you ever think of anything other than sex?” a sincere question though it was masked with a tease. it was a question she herself couldn’t answer with an honest yes. whenever abel was within so much as fifty feet of her she felt the need to claim his body as her own. “no one else is here to entertain me, you’re all i got and you’re up here going all brian wilson on me.” a reference she was sure he would catch. “so, if you’d like me to be entertained you’d have to, y’know… entertain me.”