(Felt like pulling this one out of the archive again after talking to a friend about EDC last weekend and seeing the cute rave fits all over my Instagram. Did you go? This might be the perfect come-down.)

Chloe Dinh was exactly what people pictured when they heard the words ‘party animal.’ Scantily clad as a matter of course, tits and ass bouncing all over the dancefloor in the tiniest of outfits. Raving her little head off at every EDM festival in the state, always showing off more skin than was probably legal - skin which was a deeper, more lusciously golden brown than any tanning machine could hope to confer.

Every weekend, it seemed, she was daubed in glitter paint, microdosing something just as safe as it was legal (not very) and letting the relentless pounding waves of music crash over her as the earth shook and rattling light shows assailed her dilated pupils as she whooped and swung her glowing bracelets back and forth. She was always within arm's reach of her boyfriend, an only slightly more responsible raver than Chloe. Dancing often led to grinding, led to sloppy makeout sessions, led to even sloppier head behind a trailer, led to stumbling, often ecstasy-fueled sex back in the car - if they made it that far.

Chloe was a free spirit, a sexually liberated and uninhibited - and kind of stereotypical - ABG, an archetype she leaned into with wholehearted enthusiasm. When she wasn't raving or partying, she was socialising, shopping, working out, or making plans for one of those five activities. It wasn't even clear whether she had a job, or if the boyfriend just covered everything.

So how did everything change? How did Chloe Dinh, ABG extraordinaire, the self-identified ‘turboslut,’ with a lack of shame that bordered on exhibitionism, wind up like this on a Saturday night?

No makeup.

No glowsticks.

No pounding bass or wailing synth.

No questionable substances dulling her senses, making the lights blur into a river of melting rainbows.

No fit, dark-haired boyfriend for her to grind her bouncy, gym-toned ass back against.

No rave outfits that amounted to little more than a bikini.

Just Chloe, wearing pajama pants and a tank top, snuggled up under a blanket on a sofa, her head tucked into the crook of a very different man's shoulder, currently wriggling around to see if she could stretch her neck far enough to kiss him on the cheek without moving, her feet bumping affectionately against his legs as he ruffled her hair in return. A largish TV burbled away in front of the pair, making the dark room flicker mutedly in faint colours.

Finally landing her lips on his jawbone, she left an imaginary kiss mark with a loud “Mwah!” then giggled softly. Her hand slid affectionately up his chest, a gentle claw that tugged slightly at his shirt under the blanket. “Hey, babe… the movie's almost over. You coming to bed after?”

Okay, I wanna be careful with this one, because it runs adjacent to some... Stuff. To be clear:

This is not a ‘tradwife’ prompt. If you want religious/political/misogyny play, I am definitely not your guy. This is not a hypnotism/manipulation/mindfuck prompt. It's just a kind of fun little… I guess you could say ‘casual reverse bimbofication’ prompt? About a girl who somehow meets a guy who takes her down a very different path from the arguably self-destructive one she was on.

The ‘how’ is definitely going to be the interesting part. How does the hardcore raver Chloe meet Alex, a mild-mannered high school teacher who goes to bed before midnight and plays D&D once a week? How on earth do opposites attract in this situation? Does it start platonic and develop slowly, or is there a single fateful encounter that kicks everything off?

It doesn't hurt that Alex is a tall, broad, fairly handsome white boy (well, man). He's a little fluffy, perhaps, but that makes him good for cuddles - something Chloe had rarely given any thought to when any close physical content was likely to escalate into sex.

Of course, she still has needs, and Alex is very happy to bring his own to the table. It just lacks a bit of the… urgency now. It feels nice to make love instead of just fucking all the time. There's an art to teasing that doesn't just involve jamming your ass into someone's crotch - though that, too, is still undeniably an effective strategy sometimes.

It's a bit specific, but I hope someone out there is picking up what I'm putting down. It's a bit of a zany pairing, but over time they'll settle into each other - we can kick the scene off from the beginning, or any part of the process.

Relevant kinks include soft raceplay (WMAF - doesn't have to be Viet by any means, I just needed to pick a name), teasing, affection, kisses, clothes and costumes both elaborate and comfy, cum play, and general coziness. More in profile.

Limits are butt stuff, cruel stuff, toilet stuff and animal stuff. Plus a bunch of stuff that just wouldn't fit the scene.