#I’ve been attempting to learn to draw him

[justafewberries]

Themes of Implicit Submission in The Hunger Games (Book One)

I’ve just finished re-reading The Hunger Games (book one) and there are a few themes that I expect SOTR will develop based on Hume’s implicit submission theory. Specifically, these are the main six tactics I believe the Capitol uses to thwart another rebellion present in the first book alone: 

Societal Pressure:

District 12 has a “keep your head down” culture. Any talks of rebellion are frowned upon. Any anti-government statements will cause social repercussions. It’s not just Katniss rolling her eyes at Gale in the woods, it’s how she has been groomed by the culture to keep quiet about the issues pervading life in the district:

“When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the things I would blurt about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol. Eventually, I understood this would only lead us to more trouble. So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts. Do my work quietly in school. Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than trades in the Hob.… Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?” (p.6)

All of this proceeds the statement:

“Even here, in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.” (p. 5)

Under this point, it is also telling that during the reaping ceremony, Katniss says the “boldest form of dissent [the audience] can manage,” is silence. Not outrage, not yelling, not like district 11, but silence (p. 24).

2. Division between Classes 

The Capitol has created conflict within the districts to draw hatred to a local target. In the case of the first book, Gale remarks tesserae is a tactic to keep them divided. 

“Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine.” (p. 14)

Interestingly, tesserae is already known as the “courtesy of the capitol” as stamped on Haymitch’s shorts in SOTR. The Capitol markets tesserae as something it does out of goodness. It attempts to make itself seem well-intentioned via the distribution of necessary goods. It’s their courtesy, after all. 

This point also includes the division between the districts. In the games, Katniss remarks how allying with the careers is essentially traitorous. 

“No one from District 12 would think of doing such a thing! Career tributes are overly vicious, arrogant, better fed, but only because they’re the Capitol’s lapdogs.” (p. 162)

By treating certain districts better, the Capitol promotes distrust between the districts, dampening potential unionization with planted hatred. By choosing favorite children, the parent that is the Capitol forces the districts to fight. 

3. Weaponized Language

The name of the Treaty of Treason, the treaty that makes the Hunger Games necessary per the law, is definitive of how the districts are forced to see themselves. They are the ones who committed treason by rebelling, and therefore they are guilty. They must repent by sending the children to the games. The permanent treaty, read during every reaping ceremony, enforces the guilt the districts are supposed to feel. In turn, the fact it is a “treaty” means the districts must have agreed to and signed it. Regardless of the circumstances around the signing of the treaty, the capitol then has the ability to wave it over their heads henceforth. 

The name itself points a finger and keeps the districts forever at fault. 

Furthermore, the fact Katniss is referred to by her district number until and even after she is given something to remember her by (the fire) further dehumanizes the tributes. During the parade, she says the citizens of the capitol have liked her and Peeta enough to "read the program" and learn their names (p. 70).

There are many more examples of villainizing and dehumanizing language in the book, but I have chosen those examples for the sake of brevity.

4. Propagandizing Education

A major theme in many dystopian novels is how the system treats education. In District 12, Katniss tells the reader:

“Besides basic reading and math, most of our instruction is coal-related. Except for the weekly lecture on the history of Panem. It’s mostly a lot of blather about what we owe the Capitol.” (p. 42)

A weekly lecture in a school is quite a lot of time to devote to any one subject. Seeing as how the rest of their curriculum revolves around district-specific content, the weekly lecture must be mandated across all districts, likely leaving the rest up to the discretion of the district itself. The Capitol once again emphasizes how the districts were wrong. It is repeated week after week, and eventually, it becomes ingrained in the social psychology of the district. 

5. Hunger and Deprivation of Needs

Continuing from the section about Katniss knows the weekly lecture must be propaganda, saying,

“I know there must be more than they’re telling us, an actual account of what happened during the rebellion. But I don’t spend much time thinking about it. Whatever the truth is, I don’t see how it will help me get food on the table.” (p. 42)

This point coincides with my second point about the division of classes. By keeping the people hungry, they are too busy thinking about the lowest rung on Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. They see those who have food, and they are the opposition in front of them, rather than examining the source of the problem. By keeping the people hungry, they are less likely to have the time or ability to even think about a collective uprising. 

6. Limiting Flow of Information

The Capitol limits the flow of information between districts. In doing so, the districts are forced to make bridging assumptions about one another. This is revealed through Katniss and Rue’s discussion in the games: 

“It’s interesting, hearing about her life. We have so little communication with anyone outside our district. In fact, I wonder if the Gamemakers are blocking out our conversation, because even though the information seems harmless, they don’t want people in different districts to know about one another.” (p. 203)

By keeping them separate, they can turn any district against another. They rely solely on the Capitol for information about other districts, and therefore the Capitol has all of the power. 

Interestingly, another division between classes is shown through Peeta’s knowledge about other districts. He knows the different types of bread from the districts, implying the merchant class may have more access to information than those of the seam, leading to further division between classes. 

All in all, these are the themes I expect to be addressed in SOTR based on the pretense of implicit submission.

[irlwakko]

adult mylo wears eyeliner confirmed

[n0vazsq]

Pretty Boy | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x gf!artist!reader

summary . . . While you're sketching a drawing of Lando, you notice that something's off with him. Then, you remind him that he's much more than what people think of him

request . . . no!

word count . . . 759

warnings . . . none! just one use of 'damn'

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . first lando fic!!! a bit short but i hope you guys like it <33

. . . The room smelled like salted caramel and the leather of the couch you were currently sitting on. Lando sat across from you, sat on the arm of the chair, one leg bouncing restlessly. The glow from his phone lit up his face every few seconds, softening the sharpness of his jawline, but it didn’t hold his attention for long. He set it down after scrolling aimlessly, leaning back with a sigh.

"You know," you started, stretching out your legs, "you really need to learn how to sit still. You’re stressing me out."

He flashed you that damn grin, the one he knew you hated for how effortlessly it made you forgive him for everything. "You sound like my engineer," he laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Maybe I should be," you shot back, holding up the sketchpad in your lap. "You’re not exactly making this easy for me."

His eyes flicked to the page, and he tilted his head, squinting slightly. "That’s me?"

"Who else do you think I’ve been sketching this whole time? Your mum?"

Lando grinned, leaning in closer to get a better look. His hair was slightly messy, still damp from the shower he’d taken earlier, and you could smell the faint trace of his shampoo as he hovered over your shoulder. "Not bad," he said with mock seriousness, tapping his chin. "You almost got my nose right."

You turned your head, glaring playfully. "Almost? You’re lucky I even attempted that ski slope you call a nose."

He pretended to be offended, leaning back dramatically, a hand on his chest. "Ski slope? That’s rich coming from someone who-" He cut himself off, laughing at your raised eyebrow.

"Go on," you urged, smirking now.

"Nah," he said, still laughing as he settled back into the chair. "You’re not worth the fight."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Lando had this way of lighting up a room without even trying, of making you feel like the only person who mattered when he turned that adorable charm your way. It was infuriating, really.

But tonight, something about him seemed quieter. The usual spark in his eyes was dimmer, and the edges of his grin didn’t reach as far.

"What’s going on with you?" you asked, setting the sketchpad aside.

He shrugged, looking down at his hands, which were fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. "Nothing. Just thinking."

"About....?"

He hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek before finally meeting your gaze. "You ever feel like… I don’t know. Like people only see what they want to see when they look at you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Where’s this coming from?"

He shrugged again, more defensively this time. "It’s just… I don’t know. Everyone’s always saying stuff, you know? About me. Pretty boy this, golden boy that. Like that’s all I am."

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. "You know that’s not true, right?"

"Isn’t it?" he countered, his voice softer now, more uncertain.

"My beloved Lando." You said his name like it was the answer to a question he didn’t want to ask. "You’re so much more than what people say. You’re brilliant, and kind, and funny, annoyingly so, actuall. You care about the people around you more than you probably should."

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you with this look that made your chest tighten.

"I don’t see some ‘pretty boy,’" you continued. "I see you. The real you. And if other people don’t, that’s their loss. But just saying, you are pretty."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "You’re too good at this whole therapy talk thing, you know that?"

You smirked, leaning back against the couch again. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep your ego contained."

He laughed then, the sound breaking through the tension like sunlight through a cloud. And when he looked back at you, the spark in his eyes was there again, faint but unmistakable.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"For what?"

"For being here. For being… ," He took a deep breath, arms raising and falling, like he was trying to cut the air. "You.”

Your smile softened, and you shrugged. "Someone’s gotta put up with you."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "Lucky me, huh?"

And in the glow of the room, with the soft hum of the music in the background, you thought maybe you were the lucky one.

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Learned Observer

Fic Request: Voyeurism

Summary: On a sleepless night, Gale notices the distinct sound of hushed voices outside his tent. It couldn't be you and Astarion… could it? When he decides to take a peek - to satisfy his scholarly curiosity, of course - he gets more than he bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2623 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader, implied Astarion x Gale x Fem!Reader Content: Gale's POV (first person), voyeurism, dry humping, handjob, public sex, male masturbation, a little bit of jealousy.

A/N: Gale, in my humble opinion, would not use the word, “cock.” I cannot express how hard it was to not use the word, "cock" in a smut fic. I frigging love that word. Anyways, writing entirely in Gale’s voice was honestly the most fun mini challenge I’ve set myself so far, and I would gladly do first person BG3 companion POVs again. Thank you, dear anon, for the request!

Another sleepless night.

The orb pulses beneath my skin, each throb a reminder of my predicament.

I implore my mind to wander to the events of our journey, to the challenges that lie ahead, in pursuit of a worthwhile distraction. But the orb’s hunger grows stronger, like a raging maelstrom, each tribute to its insistent pull a mere ripple against the tide of its endless consumption. Perhaps I should consult the others about–

… Voices drift from outside my tent before I can finish my thoughts. Curious.

Hushed laughter and whispered words. Astarion's distinctive timbre and… you.

The sound is soft, subtle - a quiet exchange. Yet, here I am, catching fragments of something private, something perhaps not intended for outside ears.

I shift, the faintest spark of curiosity pulling me from my solitude. It's innocent, surely - a late-night conversation, perhaps a shared joke. And yet, as the moments pass, I can't ignore the intimacy in your laughter, the way Astarion's voice drops to that silken murmur he reserves for his attempts at enticement.

Just a glance, I tell myself. Merely to understand what could be so amusing at this hour.

Slowly, carefully, I draw back a sliver of canvas, just enough to peek through.

My breath catches as my eyes adjust to the firelight outside. There, on the other side of the campfire, resting against a fallen log, you sit beside him, close - very close - your faces inches apart.

Your legs are entwined, and there’s an intensity in the way you look at each other. I’m taken aback by the hunger in the kiss that follows - one neither timid nor restrained. Your hands begin to explore each other with what I can only call fervour - the kind of urgency I hadn't known either of you possessed, let alone with each other. 

The way you move together speaks of raw desire rather than tender affection - this is clearly a new physical relationship.

When did this start? How did I miss the signs? Though perhaps I was too caught up in my own concerns to notice the lingering glances, the way you always seemed to find reasons to be near each other…

I tell myself it’s simple curiosity that keeps me here, observing. A certain academic interest, if you will. After all, Astarion has always been something of a hedonist - a man who indulges in his desires with a recklessness I sometimes envy, though rarely approve. But to see him like this - in action, as it were - offers a unique perspective on his character.

You murmur something I cannot make out, a teasing lilt in your voice, and Astarion laughs in that rakish, honeyed tone of his, as though thrilled to have you so wholly entranced. His hands grip your waist, and with a practised grace, he pulls you into his lap, the hem of your skirt spilling around you both. As his hands settle on your hips, you grind against what I can only assume to be a prominent hardness in his trousers, judging by the satisfied smirk on his face. 

You seem eager, pliant under his touch, responding in ways I confess I hadn’t thought you capable of - no, not like this. Not with him.

My heart hammers in my chest, a tension spreading through me that’s… increasingly difficult to ignore. And yet, I remind myself, this is mere observation, nothing more. A clinical exercise in understanding the intricacies of interpersonal attractions between a vampire and a mortal; the undercurrent of danger that befalls such an arrangement.

He holds you with a blend of confidence and entitlement that borders on decadent, his mouth at your neck, lips brushing against your skin with a maddening leisure that’s somehow indulgent and teasing all at once. His fangs linger there and, for a moment, my heart stops - surely he wouldn’t… Ah, no. No, he’s not feeding. He merely kisses your neck, fangs scraping lightly against your throat - close enough to tempt and tantalise. I see the goosebumps flare on your skin.

He whispers something low and unintelligible, and you let out a soft giggle, yielding in a way that speaks of trust - trust that’s he’s earned, somehow, despite his nature.

And then your hand drifts between you both, touching him through his trousers.

Gosh. I hadn’t thought you so bold.

Astarion’s body arches into your touch, his gaze darkening as he watches you with a hunger that’s both terrifying and… strangely beautiful. I find myself entranced, my breath shallow as I observe the way your fingers trace over him, the way he leans into you. The noise he makes when your fingers flex, squeezing him gently over the fabric… Gracious. 

There’s a strange, reluctant curiosity building within me. I should look away. I should grant you both the privacy you likely assume you have. And yet, my gaze remains fixed, drawn to the details of your encounter: the way his hands tighten on your waist, the way your breaths synchronise, the way he murmurs softly into your ear…

I am aware - painfully so - of the ache low in my body that has built with each passing moment, each glance, each touch. I am no stranger to restraint - I have spent years tempering my desires, sacrificing comforts in the pursuit of knowledge, of power. Yet, here, now, I feel that restraint begin to falter; to dissolve like ink in water, dispersing until it is all but unrecognisable. It has been so long, after all. So, so long.

When your hands move to the waistband of his trousers, my breath catches. Gods above, surely you won't, not out in the open... but yes. Yes, it seems you will.

When you pull him free, well - I’ve always wondered about vampire physiology, purely academically, of course. But the sight of him prompts rather less scholarly thoughts. He’s impressively endowed - perhaps it is wishful thinking to believe that this is but another gift of his condition. It’s fascinating how vampiric transformation affects every part of the body - he’s almost luminescent in the firelight, every inch of him perfect and unmarred. I notice the veins that trace along his length, faintly visible beneath his skin. He is, even now, a study in confidence, exuding a subtle power that one can only achieve when utterly comfortable in one’s own skin.

Your hand wraps around him, sliding up and down his length at a teasing pace, drawing forth a sound I have never heard our pale companion make - a soft, broken gasp, caught somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It sounds almost reluctant, as though he hadn’t meant for such a sound to slip past his lips. He twitches under your ministrations, and his grip on your hips tightens enough that there will surely be bruises tomorrow.

My fingers rest at my thigh, trembling ever so slightly. A small part of me - a remnant of reason, perhaps - tells me to pull back, to look away, to let this moment pass without surrendering to the need that has taken root within me. But my body, the traitorous thing it is, does not heed such commands. Instead, I find my hand drifting lower.

My fingers trace over the fabric of my trousers, over the aching hardness beneath. A gentle palming, barely enough to ease the tension that coils tighter with each passing moment as I watch the scene unfold.

Your hands elicit quiet murmurs from Astarion that grow deeper and more insistent with each passing moment. For a moment, the two of you share a look - one of conspiratorial mischief, perhaps - and then a soft, shared giggle, the sound mingling with the crackling of the fire. 

You're so utterly engrossed in him; so utterly unselfconscious.

You shift, a question in your eyes, and as he nods, giving his assent, you rise just enough to shift, positioning yourself over him. Your skirts drape around you both, providing a veneer of modesty, though there's no mistaking what follows when you sink yourself down on to him. The way your lips part in a gasp as he enters you, the way his head falls back with a victorious grin - it makes the tightness, the great ache between my legs, almost unbearable.

I find my hand slipping beneath my waistband.

Just a little relief, I tell myself. Just enough to ease this maddening tension.

There is a certain poetry to it, I suppose - this surrender to the pleasures of the flesh. I allow myself to imagine, as my hand finds the throbbing heat of my arousal, what it might feel to be in your place, to have someone look at me with that same confidence, to experience touch imbued with the certainty of one who knows precisely how to elicit pleasure - a knowledge gleaned from centuries, no doubt, of indulgence and conquest.

It’s enough to leave me aching for more than mere observation.

The fervour with which you move against him… it’s hypnotic, each roll of your hips drawing forth increasingly wanton sounds from you both. Astarion's carefully crafted demeanour gives way to something more roguish, a playful daring that glints in his eyes as you rise and fall and rise and fall on his length.

I find my hand instinctively matching your rhythm, every shift and motion, as though I, too, am bound to the undulating tempo that you and Astarion have created.

Gods… what must it be like to be him? To have someone so openly, eagerly drawn to you, meeting every touch with matching fervour? To hold someone close and feel their raw desire, the thrill of each laugh, each gasp, offered without hesitation? I wonder what it must be like to inspire such a response, to be desired so freely, without need for pretence or restraint?

With Mystra, I was ever the pursuer, striving tirelessly to earn even the barest hint of her approval, each moment together feeling like an examination I desperately hoped to pass. But Astarion… well. He needn't chase or convince. Despite his vampiric nature - or perhaps, in part, because of it - he is simply desired, freely given all that I once had to beg for. The inequity of it all would be rather poetic, if it weren't so personally vexing.

“A-ah!”

Your gasp cuts through my ruminations, pulling me back into the scene.

Astarion’s hand has slipped between you, guiding you to that final crescendo with a practised touch. The sight of it is utterly spellbinding: his fingers moving with a precision that speaks to centuries of experience, knowing just where to press, where to linger. The control he exercises over you is enviable, each movement of his hand coaxing you closer to that peak, his attention wholly focused on your reaction, even as your hips rock back and forth on his length with an increasingly frantic, unrestrained urgency.

The way your eyes roll back... Gosh.

The expression on your face, one of pure, unfiltered abandon, is a sight to behold.

Your body trembles as you reach your peak, and a sound - a cry, too loud in the stillness of the night - escapes your lips. Astarion’s palm clamps over your mouth, a futile attempt to muffle you in the throes of your climax. Though he hushes you, his expression suggests that he is not in the least bit concerned. In fact, he seems rather pleased - more than pleased, really. 

There’s a thrill in such a public display for him too, no doubt.

I swallow, the sound almost too loud, my heart pounding against my ribs as though it seeks to betray me. Astarion's head tilts slightly, his gaze flickering to the shadows, and for one heart-stopping moment, I think he has sensed me, that his attention has shifted from you to this invisible interloper, the scholar caught red-handed in his quiet act of voyeurism.

Could he... sense me here, lingering on the fringe of his private moment? Could he smell the stir of my own arousal, feel the faint tremor of my breath as I fight for composure? For several heartbeats, my hand freezes. I dare not even breathe.

But then his attentions return to you, and I breathe a sigh of relief. 

He brings his hands to your hips, holding them firmly in place as he drives himself upwards into you, deeper, with mounting desperation. It seems he seeks to chase his own release, content with the pleasure he has wrought you.

You respond eagerly, pressing closer, your own sounds growing louder, heedless of who might hear, and I can see that thrill in his face - the satisfaction of knowing he’s eliciting every reaction from you, drawing out each gasp, each shudder.

My hand glides hastily across my arousal, my own breathing growing ragged as I watch his control begin to slip. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his head tips back in pure abandon.

In the final throes, he presses himself against you, buried firmly to the hilt. It’s almost animalistic, all thoughts, all calculated movements, making way for one singular goal: to empty himself into you, filling you with all he has to offer with breaths rugged and low. All composure is stripped, replaced with instinct and pure need.

I find my own movements quickening to match his pace, as though some invisible thread binds us all to this moment. My hand tightens as I lose myself in the same tempo, every sound from you both spurring me closer. The sight of his final shudder, the look of utter satisfaction crossing his face as he reaches that height, is enough to tip me over the edge.

For a heartbeat, the night seems to hold us all in perfect suspension - your quiet gasps, his satisfied murmurs, my own silent echo of shared pleasure - all woven together in this clandestine tableau.

Only then, as the euphoria begins to fade, does a most uncomfortable awareness creep in.

Gods above, what have I... A scholar of worldly acclaim, reduced to voyeur, caught up in base desires like some common... No. Best not to dwell on such things. Though I suspect sleep will prove rather elusive tonight, haunted by questions of propriety and... other matters.

With a groan, I roll onto my back, the orb’s steady throb now a minor annoyance compared to the tangled thoughts that flood my mind. Perhaps I can chalk this entire… incident up to fatigue, a wandering mind, even a fevered dream. Yes, that must be it. The product of a restless night and, possibly, a touch of indigestion. After all, who could believe that I, Gale of Waterdeep, would be brought so low as to... well, that.

As morning light spills across camp, I attempt a façade of normalcy, willing my cheeks to cool and my mind to settle. Just as I convince myself the night’s events were nothing more than a peculiar dream, Astarion sidles up, his expression one of leisurely amusement.

"Restless night, Gale?” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. His gaze is as sharp as his tone, a knowing glint in his eyes that makes my stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way. "I thought I heard a... stirring from your tent."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in that infuriatingly smug way of his, and I nearly choke on my response. 

He knew. 

Astarion knew. 

I force a cough, pretending to inspect the morning sky.

"A dream," I reply a bit too quickly. "Perhaps the cheese at dinner was... overly ripe."

But Astarion merely chuckles, a wicked sound, before strolling away with a satisfied air. And as I watch him saunter off, I’m left to question just how much of the night was a dream - and how much, mortifyingly, was very, very real.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat @davenswitcher @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard @chonkercatto @stokzr @trafalgarussy @asterordinary

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 9

Clark Kent + sounding

I’ve spent all day drawing giraffes for class, so time to write. How has everyone’s October been so far?

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Clark, or should he say Kal-El, was seated back in one of the seats in the fortress of solitude. He was naked from the waist down, legs spread open, and feet placed on the control panel in front of him as he panted audibly. Kryptonians couldn’t sweat, and at times like this Clark cursed such biology, as his body felt like it was burning up on the inside. Everything was so sensitive, so raw that even the brush of cold wind against his skin made him tense up and whimper.

This was all your fault, Clark decided. You were the one who had nicked the pink kryptonite from Bruces collection, claiming to want to study it. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Bruce knew immediately what you were planning to do, you two had worked together for many years so of course he would know.

Clark could barely open his eyes to look at you as you stood between his shaking thighs, the muscle inside jumping and twitching, the kryptonian wanting to snap his thighs shut from how overstimulating your very presence was. You looked borderline gleeful as you watched him, you hadn’t had to touch Clark even once, only needing to pull out the thin cylinder of pink rocks to get Clark like this.

Your lover would twitch and stifle moans when you as much as brushed the pink kryptonite against him, the upper part of his suit already stained with stripes of pre. You could never quite get over just how big kryptonians were, and how much they produced.

Part of you had thought that Clark would be a gentleman, a real country boy coming to the big city vibe. That was until you two started dating and he got more comfortable, where you learned just how much of an animal he could be.

The noise Clark made as you finally grabbed him around the base reminded you a bit of a wounded animal, his entire body so tense in his attempts not to lose control of his super strength, or any other of his powers for that matter.

He was pulsing in your hand, which wasn’t uncommon, with you having gotten used to kryptonian libido and what came with it. But the deep red, almost purple tint to his tip made you flick your tongue against your lip. It was borderline impossible to ever overstimulate Clark, and at times very difficult to even edge him, especially to this point. Normally it would take hours, but this time it hadn’t even taken you thirty minutes.

Soft warbled words in what you knew was kryptonian passed his lips, mixed with different half formed curses and begs in a thicky accented voice. You loved how his accent would melt into his words when he got like this, or when he was feeling extra affectionate, how it became so clear that yes, he may be superman of krypton, but he is just as much Clark Kent of Smallville.

His tip oozed more than you were used too as you brought the cylinder of pink kryptonite closer, his shaft so slick you almost caught your hand slipping right off it. Clarks eyes were wide, pupils blown so far you could barely see a tiny ring of blue around them, as he seemed hyperfocused on what you were doing between his legs.

“Take a deep breath, alright Clark?” you mumble, eyes boring into his flushed face, waiting for him to audibly gulp in air as his chest expanded. His eyelashes were wet and clumped together, Clarks eyes flicking up to meet your own, looking so vulnerable and needy that you almost wanted to just pull him into your arms to hold him.

“You ready?” you purr out, smiling softly at his shaky but excited nod, his Adams apple bobbing as he gulped the spit in his mouth. With a shaky inhale of your own, you slowly work the rod of kryptonite downwards, watching Clark closely to make sure everything was as it should be.

His jaw dropped, but no noise passed through his lips, his eyes flickering a few shades of red before they rolled almost all the way back. His toes were curling and muscles tensing hard enough that you would have been worried, were he a normal human. Clark so clearly wanted to arch his back and writhe around, but he stayed still for you, letting you slowly push and pull the rod of kryptonite back and forth.

The praises that passed through your lips didn’t even seem to fully register for Clark, who seemed to almost be experiencing something akin to a holy experience. What little noises that did leave him were choked and whiny, like a chew toy whose squeaker had started breaking and leaking air. He was adorable, in his own musclebound, teary eyed kinda way, in a way that only really made sense because it was Clark.

“There we go, good boy Clark” you pant out, eyes transfixed on where you could see the faintly glowing space rock sinking and rising out of him, splashes of shiny pre gushing out with every outwards pull, further soaking his lower body and your hands. The praise seemed to register enough for Clark to give a scratchy grunt, his voice breaking again as the kryptonite pressed against some spot that made him forget to swallow, a line of drool running down his chin.

It was clear from the start that he wouldn’t have lasted long. Clark never really did, since he had close to no rest period between rounds, so why would he need to hold back when he would be ready to go again in two minutes, tops. The pink kryptonite only seemed to shorten his usual time, his entire body wriggling in his seat to notify how close he was.

With a loud pant you slowly pulled the rod out, watching how shiny it was, coated in all his fluids, spurts of pre squirting out of his slit like a fountain finally getting unblocked as you pulled the kryptonite out the last bit.

The squeeze around his base and an approving noise from you was all he needed to spill all over himself, Clarks body tensing even more, if that was even possible, as he exploded like volcano. The first many times you had been shocked at how hard he would finish, and how much there was. Even now, this time there seemed to be even more, and his orgasm lasted longer than you were used too.

When Clark finally slumped into the seat, his entire torso, all the way up to his chin, was covered in thick splashes of white, when you were covered in quite a lot of it, but that you had expected. You had also expected that Clark would at least be somewhat out of it, just because you were involving a type of kryptonite. That meant you weren’t too shocked when he didn’t react as you put the kryptonite away in its lead box, to be cleaned later, or when you tried to wipe you both down the best you could.

Luckily you were used to carrying him around, so it wasn’t too hard to pick your still shivering lover up. You had a feeling he was purring, your difference in species just meant you couldn’t hear it, but the barely noticeable thrum to his throat as it rested against your shoulder was telling enough. Clark nuzzled against you with a relieved sigh, eyes shut and body limp, proving that even the man of steel could be wrung out one way or another. You just hoped you hadn’t traumatized the other residents of the fortress, even if they weren’t completely alive like Clark or you.

[dixonsdarkelf]

‘Cause They Ain’t You: Daryl Dixon & Fem!Reader

AO3 link

Summary: Upon arriving at Alexandria, your husband becomes the target of a group of rather flirtatious women, and you find the whole thing rather comical. But Daryl has some concerns, and they aren't just about himself.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Alexandria, pre-Saviors

Word count: 638

Warnings: No use of y/n, some mild swearing, we got wife!reader in this one

A/N: Me? Posting three times in one week? Insane. Unheard of. Will likely never happen again. This is my take on this post/prompt from @darylsdelts (see screenshot below). I don't feel like this is my best work, but it's cute & I had fun writing it.

“‘S’not funny,” Daryl groaned, taking a seat next to you on the front porch. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing some chestnut locks from his eyes as he stared down the path, glaring at a woman who’d just been all over him despite his protests.

“What are you talking about?” you teased. You gently nudged him with your elbow, your gaze shifting from the dissipated group of women down the way. “I think this is hilarious.”

You’d met Daryl years ago, falling in love and getting married long before the downfall of the world. You two were attached at the hip. going on runs together and barely spending a moment apart. It was obvious to everyone that you two were together. However, since arriving within the sanctity of the walls of Alexandria, several of the women had taken quite a liking to your rough-and-tumble redneck, acting on their desires whether they didn’t know you were married or did know and simply didn’t care. They were all over him, incessantly flirting until Daryl was red in the face. Whether that hue was from anger or embarrassment, you couldn’t be sure.

What you were sure of, though, was that he hated it, and he knew you found it hysterical.

“It’s kind of amusing to me,” you laughed, playfully stroking his arm, mimicking the behavior of the women you’d just watched fawn over your husband, “they see us walking around all the time, going home together to the same house every night, matching rings on our fingers, and they still haven’t put two and two together.”

“Need to learn to back off.” He fiddled with the hem of his shirt sleeve, a scowl forming on his lips as he ripped off a loose string.

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, a worry beginning to creep up in your chest. While you found the whole thing humorous, you hated to see him getting so worked up over it. “I mean, if it really bothers you that much, you should say something,” you suggested, but you knew that was easier said than done. Anyone who spent even five minutes around Daryl knew he was socially awkward. Hell, when you first met him, it was like pulling teeth to get him to say a word. Admitting he was uncomfortable to people he barely knew, to put it lightly, would be a struggle.

“‘S’not me m’worried ‘bout,” he clarified.

You cocked an eyebrow. “Then what is it?” Your eyes darted across his face, searching his features for answers. As realization struck you, you tilted your head slightly in his direction, hoping it would coax him into eye contact. “You’re worried about me?”

His nod was small, but it was enough confirmation for you. “Dun’ want ya gettin’ all upset ‘bout it.”

“Aww, Dar.” You rested your hand on his lower back, drawing small circles on the bit of skin that peeked out above his belt. “I’m not upset about anything.”

“Ya ain’t bothered?” he inquired. He finally lifted his head to meet your gaze, a hint of curiosity and doubt in those stunning cerulean pools. Although he knew you’d never lie to him, especially if something was bothering you, he worried you were playing up the hilarity for his sake.

You sighed softly, your award-winning smile on full-display in an attempt to comfort him. “No, of course not. Why would I be? I know I’ve got nothing to be worried about.”

“Certainly don’t,” he reiterated, “‘cause they ain’t you.”

Those four simple words sent your heart into a fit of flutters. “You’re sweet,” you gushed, resting your head on his shoulder and looking up at him, a sparkle of adoration in your eye, “I love you.”

He chuckled softly, the sweet sound like music to your ears. “Love ya too.”

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @dixons-sunshine

Hit me up to be added to or removed from the taglist 🖤

GIF and ©️ message were made by me, sparkle and ‘continue reading’ dividers are by @anitalenia

[just-a-girl-who-loves-tmr]

This trend is literally dead and I’ve already done it before but I’m doing it again because I can and no one can stop me 😘

5 notes- I’ll ‘attempt’ to fix my sleep schedule

10 notes- I’ll revise for my French test

25 notes- I’ll do an everything shower (I’ve been putting it off for like two months now 😭)

50 notes- I’ll deep clean my room and sort through my junk draws

75 notes- I’ll try to post at least every other day

100 notes- I’ll try and keep up with self care (skincare everyday, hair wash 3 times a week etc)

200 notes- I’ll properly train for my dance show

300 notes- I’ll always get up before 9.30 on weekends

400 notes- I’ll actually go to the gym

500 notes- try an learn to cook more meals myself (I’m 13 ok 😭)

600 notes- I’ll start studying consistently

700 notes- I’ll reduce my screen time to a max of 4 hours a day

800 notes-I’ll post everyday

900 notes- I’ll actually do stuff on weekends and not just rot in bed all day

1000 notes- I’ll try to eat healthier

1300 notes- I’ll attempt to finish the fanfic I’ve been ‘writing’ for months

1500 notes- I’ll post twice a day

1800 notes- I will post said fanfic

2000 notes- I’ll *try to* get my crush’s number

2500 notes- I’ll tell my crush I like him (lmao not happening

No limits but if it gets to 2500 I’m so screwed

Key:

Not done

In progress

Done

Edit: omg @get-sh3rlock ily so much omg 😭😭

How did this go so fast??

K, i know it’s cheating but i changed the order slightly because how did this go so quick??? I thought this would get like 30 notes ily guys 😭

[shadowkoo]

Touch Of Cherries

→ Summary: With Valentine’s Day fast approaching, your thoughtful and devoted boyfriend is determined to make it unforgettable. But when you suggest something completely unexpected like a threesome - with his best friend, no less - he’s caught entirely off guard. Shock quickly turns into curiosity, and as the day draws closer he realizes there’s a whole new side of you he can’t wait to discover.

↠ jimin x f.reader x jungkook | 6.5k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, romance, pwp, threesome

→ Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, explicit sex, unprotected sex, threesome, hand job, blow job, pussy eating, extreme teasing, dirty talk, edging, punishment, choking, spanking, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, breast play, nipple play, food play (candied cherries, chocolate-covered strawberries, whipped cream, ice cream), butt plugs, vibrators, vibrating cock rings, nipple clamps, flogger, feather tassel, leather paddle, blindfolds, tape, silk ties, muzzling, spit play, cum play, cumshot / faceshot, bdsm themes, dom/sub switch,dom gf!reader, bratty bbf!jungkook, submissive bf!jimin

→ Networks: tagged below

@ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus

@lapydiaries @bangtanwritershq @dove-net

→ Author Note: this fic has been a very long time coming (joke intended as you will soon discover lol), it was originally meant to be released for sol’s @jamaisjoons's bon appetit collab and after several hiatuses and comebacks, it’s finally here (with major improvements and an additional 3k - you’re welcome) please enjoy this overdue and delicious valentine’s fic!!!! i'd also like to give a huge shoutout to ley @pars-ley for beta editing this for me, i appreciate you! this has been crossposted on ao3 if you prefer to read there!

“It’s okay. Everything is okay,” you whisper, exhaling shakily as excitement builds in your chest. Tires crunch across the gravel driveway, signaling their arrival.

It’s time.

You listen as they step inside, the soft thud of their shoes hitting the floor as they exchange light conversation; their attempt to settle their nerves. It doesn’t take long before their footsteps echo down the hallway, drawing closer to the bedroom where you wait with anticipation rushing through you.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” you murmur, a slow smile playing on your lips as you meet the gaze of the two men stepping into the room. “Both of you.”

Satisfaction hums in your chest. Jimin held up his end of the deal, all he had to do was show up on time, with Jungkook. You made sure to take care of everything else. You’re in charge tonight. Everything you say goes, and if they dare to disobey...well let’s just say they’ll soon learn what kind of punishment is in store.

Jungkook’s eyes widen, while Jimin’s breath hitches as they take in the sight before them. The sheer lingerie spills across your body, revealing just enough to keep their eyes roaming hungrily over your skin. But it’s not just you that has their attention.

Spread across the nightstands on either side of the bed are the carefully selected indulgences you’ve prepared for tonight. Trays of chocolate-covered fruit, a bottle of wine that pairs perfectly with the sweets, spray cans of whipped cream, the soft glow of candles flickering against scattered flower petals and the lingerie laid out just for them next to you. And then, of course, there’s the final temptation, a lineup of toys, waiting patiently for their turn to play.

They’re in for a delight, to say the least.

“Help yourselves to whatever you’d like, boys. I know I will,” you purr, plucking a ripe chocolate-covered strawberry from the tray. Slowly, you bring it to your lips, your teeth sinking through its tender skin. The sweet juices linger, glistening on your lips as you take your time savoring each bite.

The voice in Jimin’s head reminds him to breathe, only for him to suck in a sharp breath when you slowly part your crossed legs, offering them a glimpse of what’s hidden between them. The soft, familiar buzzing confirms his guess before his eyes even land on the sleek purple vibrator nestled inside of you. One of your favorites.

Together, your boyfriend and his best friend, watch in complete awe as your hand glides down your body, your slim fingers wrap around the base of the toy peeking through the open middle of your crotchless teddy. Giving yourself a few teasing pumps, you moan just enough to ensure you have their full, undivided attention. Then, with a satisfied sigh, you pull the toy from your slick folds and casually toss it onto the bed beside you.

“I’m ready whenever you two are.”

Jimin swallows nervously. This is really happening.

Only a short 48 hours ago, this was nothing more than a fantasy you boldly admitted. Now, here you are, waiting for him and Jungkook to make their move. He’s still somewhat shocked. You rarely request favors, so when you do, he knows they mean everything to you. And Jimin never wants to let you down.

He recalls the scenario you laid out for him…

“I’ve been thinking about what we should do for Valentine’s Day,” you begin, your voice smooth. “I have a proposition…”

Jimin barely glances away from the TV, eyes still glued to the movie you picked from some random streaming service. “What is it?” he asks, completely unaware of the bomb you’re about to drop.

You hesitate for a moment, then take a breath. It’s now or never. “I want us to have a threesome… with Jungkook.”

Silence.

Jimin blinks at the screen as if replaying your words in his head, trying to make sure he heard them right. Then, suddenly, his head snaps toward you, eyes wide. “W-wait. What did you just say…a threesome? With Jungkook?”

You nod.

He stares at you, processing. “Jungkook… as in my best friend Jungkook?” His voice is a mix of shock, curiosity, and the slightest hint of something else. Like jealousy, maybe.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “He’s the only person I can think of that we both trust. Someone who won’t judge us or look at either of us differently afterward.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything, and you aren’t sure how to take his silence. He doesn’t seem upset, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t. Anxiety creeps in, and you start picking at your fingernails while you wait for his response.

Your friends always said that if you were ever going to do this, it had to be with a stranger to keep things from getting awkward. But you’ve never understood that logic. A stranger wouldn’t respect your or Jimin’s boundaries. A stranger wouldn’t be as trustworthy or judgment-free as Jungkook.

You swallow hard. “You can say no if you hate the idea. It’s okay.”

Jimin exhales, running a hand through his hair. He wonders how long you’ve been holding onto this thought, and how many times the idea has crossed your mind before you finally built up the courage to say it aloud.

He’s never been one to shy away from something new. Experimentation has always been part of the thrill for both of you. And if this is what you really want for Valentine’s Day… who is he to deny you?

After a beat, he nods. “Yeah, sure. We’ll call him tomorrow and ask.”

“Do you have something to say, Jimin? You look a little tongue-tied,” you tease, slowly sliding off the bed. Your words snap him back into the present moment, but there’s a haze in his eyes that lingers.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he shakes his head.

“Good.” You flash a knowing grin, stepping between them to shut the bedroom door. “Before we get started, there are a few rules for tonight.” Your voice dips slightly, commanding their full attention. “You’re here for my pleasure. Do as I say, and the night will go smoothly. Good listeners get good rewards. Do you understand?”

They nod, but that’s not enough. You arch an eyebrow, waiting for a verbal response.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jungkook finally answers after he’s caught on, his voice thick and raspy. His response is correct, but the smirk tugging at his plush lips is not appreciated.

“Jungkook. Top off. Now.”

Turning back to the bed, you grab two carefully chosen items, a strappy leather harness, meant specifically for him, and the paddle with a heart-shaped leather tip, meant specifically for you.

You have a feeling you’ll be needing it sooner rather than later. Especially if that attitude of his sticks around…which, if you’re being honest, you kind of hope it does.

“Yes, ma’am,” he repeats, with that same infuriating smirk playing on his lips. His gaze never wavers, eyes locked intently onto yours and only breaking momentarily when he tugs his shirt over his head.

You take your time looking over his body, your eyes trailing across the sculpted ridges of his stomach, the ink etched into his skin, before finally landing on the small patch of dark hair peeking from the waistband of his low-rise jeans. You press your lips together to stifle a smile, they call them happy trails for a reason, after all.

Lifting the leather straps over his head and onto his shoulders, your fingers skim the warm expanse of his tanned skin as you guide his arms through the harness.

“I was going to wait until later for this,” you murmur, circling around him slowly, savoring the moment. “But I’d rather do it now…and enjoy it later.”

His brows knit together in confusion until he feels it. The click of the built-in handcuffs as you secure his wrists behind his back.

Realization dawns in his eyes, but he doesn’t protest. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths as he adjusts to the restraint. Once he’s properly locked in place, you drag the tip of the paddle across the exposed patches of skin between the straps, letting it linger before delivering a swift, teasing slap to his shoulder blade.

A perfect red heart blossoms in its wake. You admire your work, running a finger lightly over the mark.

Beautiful.

“Sit on the bed and wait your turn.”

Your voice leaves no room for argument as you turn away, returning to the bed to pick up the last remaining outfit. Holding up the delicate maid uniform, you offer it to Jimin with a sultry smile.

“This one’s yours, baby.” A sweet expression graces your lips, but behind it lurks something far more sinful. You can already picture Jimin fucking you hard from behind, the frilly fabric bunched around his waist as he loses himself in you. The thought alone makes your heart rate increase.

Jimin doesn’t hesitate. He strips, slipping into the outfit before settling onto the bed beside Jungkook, both of them waiting eagerly for your next command.

“Now that you’re both dressed appropriately, let’s go over the rest of the rules.” Your gaze sweeps between them, lingering on Jungkook. There’s a glint in his eye, sharp and mischievous. He’s going to be a handful tonight.

“You will do exactly as I say. No whining, no backtalk, and no attitude.” You let the warning hang in the air before continuing.

“You’re only allowed to come at the same time as each other, and only after I do. You will refer to me as ma’am or madam. Either will suffice. And let’s be clear, there will be no sitting back and watching tonight. Your eyes will stay on me all night…but so will a part of you. Your hands, a finger, your lips, tongue, or even your cock, must be touching me.”

A sharp smack echoes through the room as you slap the paddle against your palm, savoring the way both men swallow hard at the sound. They better get used to it.

“Break any of these rules,” you continue, voice dripping with authority, “and you’ll be given a fitting punishment of my choosing.” You take a slow, deliberate turn, gesturing to the array of playthings laid out around you. “There are plenty of options…and I won’t hesitate to use them.”

Jimin bites back a smile, secretly reveling in the dominatrix side of you that’s fully emerging tonight. He always knew you liked to experiment and switch things up, but this? This is something else entirely.

And he loves it. Loves watching you take control, loves discovering this new side of you that’s commanding, unapologetic, and entirely irresistible.

“Lastly,” you continue, your voice smooth yet firm, “If anything becomes too much, use the word ‘yellow’ so I know to ease up. If you’re uncomfortable at any point, say ‘red,’ and I’ll stop immediately. Got it?”

Their quick nods are followed by a synchronized, “Yes, madam.”

“Good.”

Without hesitation, you grip the delicate, ruffled collar of Jimin’s maid dress and yank him toward you, crashing your lips together, your tongue sliding against his.

As your lips move to his neck, you slip a hand beneath the short hem of his dress, fingers finding his throbbing length with ease. A slow, teasing stroke has him gasping, his body already betraying him.

“How does that feel, baby?” you whisper against his skin, punctuating your words with gentle bites along the curve where his shoulder meets lace.

Jimin mewls into your ear as you stroke him, his breathing turning ragged, his hips subtly bucking into your touch. He’s close—so close—but you won’t let him have it. Not yet.

Your grip tightens around his shaft, thumb circling the sensitive head just enough to make him tremble. A surprised gasp escapes his lips, but before he can beg for more, you pull away entirely.

His frustrated whimper only fuels your desire.

You do it again, bringing him to the very edge and making his whole body tense with anticipation, only to snatch it away at the last second.

The night is just getting started, and Jimin is already at your mercy. Exactly where you want him.

Shifting your attention to Jungkook, who has been waiting far too patiently on the bed, you slide your hand down to his zipper, pulling it down with deliberate slowness. His jeans slide to his knees, exposing thick, tense thighs that flex beneath your fingertips as you trail them up toward the outline of his growing arousal, straining behind the fabric of his briefs.

Your fingers dip just beneath the waistband, teasing just enough to send a ripple of goosebumps across his skin before you tug the fabric down, freeing him completely.

“Mmm, you look more than ready for me,” you murmur, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Tell me, do you want my hands on you?”

Jungkook nods frantically, desperation written all over his face.

A devilish smile tugs at your lips as you lean in, lips hovering just inches from his aching length. You blow a soft stream of air against it, watching with satisfaction as his abs flex in response.

“What about my mouth?” you purr, voice dripping with mischief. “Would you like that?”

His chest rises and falls with heavy, uneven breaths. “Fuck, yes. I want it all,” he groans, already on edge.

You let a single finger trail along the prominent vein running up his shaft, barely touching him, yet it’s enough to make him shiver. You can feel how hard he’s fighting to stay still, to not thrust into your teasing touch.

“Fuck,” he gasps, his tattooed hands gripping the sheets.

You ignore his frustration, turning instead to Jimin, who is watching with wide, hungry eyes.

“Tell me what to do to him,” you command smoothly.

Jimin blinks, caught off guard. “You…want me to tell you?”

“Yes, baby,” you coo, tilting your head, daring him to defy you. “Or do you have a problem with my demand?”

“N-no, ma’am,” he stammers, quickly shaking his head. Then, after a brief hesitation, his voice turns more confident. “No hands,” he instructs, watching you carefully. “Do whatever you want, just don’t use your hands.”

A wicked grin spreads across your lips. You love a challenge.

Obliging, you lower yourself between Jungkook’s thighs, letting your tongue flick out to deliver the lightest kitten lick along his length. It’s so brief, so teasing, yet powerful enough to make his whole body tense. You repeat the motion, each barely-there touch making him groan in frustration, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

And you? You’re just getting started. But, if you’re being honest, you could use a little attention yourself.

"Hmm. I don’t think this is working for me," you muse, pushing yourself to your feet with a sigh of faux disappointment. Your gaze sharpens as you look down at Jungkook. "Move up against the headboard."

He obeys without question, shuffling back until his toned back meets the plush pillows, kicking off the last of the fabric clinging to his ankles. His darkened, lust-filled eyes track your every movement.

You crawl forward on your hands and knees, slipping between his legs until your body is back in its previous position, your breath warm against his heated skin.

"Jimin?" you purr, flicking your tongue out to tease the thick head of Jungkook’s length, reveling in the way his thighs tense beneath you. "Be a doll and fuck me with those gorgeous fingers of yours while I take my time enjoying your friend a little longer."

Positioning himself behind you, he kneels on the bed, his fingertips grazing the outer curve of your thigh before trailing up to your perfectly round ass. A shiver runs through you at his touch. His other hand slides between your legs, and he sinks two slender fingers into your slick heat, curling them just right.

A deep moan vibrates against Jungkook’s length as Jimin expertly finds that sweet spot, sending pleasure coursing through your body.

Jungkook’s hips jerk involuntarily from the sensation, a sharp curse slipping past his lips as his hands struggle against his restraints, tossing his head back in frustration. Fuck.

You lift your mouth off his length, glancing over your shoulder to meet Jimin’s gaze. His dark eyes lock onto yours, a silent challenge flickering between you as he pushes another finger inside, stretching you just right. Your walls greedily suck him in, and a shuddered moan escapes your lips.

Jungkook whimpers from the lack of contact, his frustration evident. “Why’d you stop?”

Turning back to him, you smirk, reaching for a very particular item from the nightstand. Your fingers curl around it as you hold his gaze, letting the anticipation build.

Jungkook watches you carefully, his brows lifting. “What are you doing with that?”

“You’re about to find out,” you purr, slipping the item between your lips before lowering yourself back down, wrapping your mouth around his cock once more. Jimin’s challenge of ‘no hands’ is getting more exciting by the second.

With precision, you use your tongue and teeth to guide the silicone ring down to the base of his thick length. Then, biting down ever so slightly, you activate the vibration setting, satisfied when a deep, shuddering gasp rips from Jungkook’s throat.

His muscles tense as the low hum of pleasure courses through him, and his fingers tighten into the pillow behind him. But before he can fully revel in it, your voice cuts through his haze.

“Since you seem to forget that I’m in charge, asking all those questions, now you get to deal with that.” Your eyes flick down to the vibrating cock ring squeezing around him, your smirk widening. “But don’t you dare come. Not until I say so.”

You glance back at your boyfriend, humming in approval at the way he’s looking at you so hungry, desperate, completely at your mercy. Perfect.

“Do you want a taste?” you ask, tilting your head, fully aware of the effect you have on him.

Jimin swallows hard, nodding eagerly. “Yes, madam. I want to taste your sweet cunt so fucking badly. Please, let me eat you until you come all over my face, sweetheart.”

A wicked grin spreads across your lips. “Okay,” you tease, dragging it out, “but only because you begged so nicely.”

Jimin’s gaze locks onto your glistening heat, his breath hitching at the sight of his fingers stretching you open. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he leans in, running a slow, deliberate lick up your slit before plunging inside, tasting you at the source.

A shudder rushes over you, a breathless moan slipping past your lips as your head tips back. Your fingers grip the sheets as you press your hips back into his face, encouraging him to go deeper. Jimin always eats you so damn good, knowing exactly what you need.

Your eyes snap back down to Jungkook, who looks absolutely wrecked. His jaw clenched, his chest heaving, every muscle in his body tense as he fights to stay in control. His cock twitches against the vibrating ring, the mix of pleasure and torment etched across his face. It suits him.

Jimin groans against your heat, sending another pulse of pleasure up your spine. One of his hands presses onto your lower back, making you arch your ass up to give him a better angle to pleasure you. Lowering his lips until they’re wrapped around your clit, he sucks hard and just like that, you’re done for. 

Your body locks up as waves of pleasure crash over you, and through the haze of your orgasm, your gaze remains locked onto Jungkook who’s fighting for his life.

The sight of you unraveling is the hottest thing Jungkook has ever seen. It’s a miracle he’s still holding on, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he fights the urge to spill right then and there.

As you come down from your high, you reach down to switch off the cock ring, your breath still uneven. “A little relief for being such a good boy,” you murmur, stroking a soothing hand over his thigh.

Jungkook jerks at the abrupt change in sensation, his hips bucking slightly as the relentless vibration disappears. He lets out a shaky breath when you slide the ring off entirely, finally freeing him from its torment.

“Gentlemen,” you sigh dramatically, stretching out your limbs like a satisfied cat. “I think it’s time for a little break, don’t you?”

The looks they give you are nothing short of incredulous, equal parts frustration and utter disbelief. If their expressions could talk, they’d be screaming: Are you fucking serious?

Biting back a smirk, you gesture toward the tray of sweets on the nearby table. “Jimin, darling, bring that over and come sit with us. You’ve earned it.”

With an exaggerated pout but no protest, Jimin obliges, settling onto the bed beside you with the tray in hand.

You move behind Jungkook, your fingers skillfully working to unbuckle the leather cuffs securing his wrists. As soon as he's freed, he flexes his hands, rolling his shoulders with a deep breath, though the tension in his body remains.

Without missing a beat, you lean over to the nightstand, effortlessly topping off your own glass of wine before pouring generous servings for the two men. They watch you closely, still on edge, their need simmering just beneath the surface.

Jimin takes his glass with a quiet "Thank you, madam," his voice husky, while Jungkook accepts his with a smirk, though his fingers tighten around the stem.

You take a slow sip, savoring the deep flavor. "Drink up, boys," you murmur, tilting your glass toward them in a mock toast. "You'll need your strength."

Jungkook follows your suit, taking a long sip and exhaling heavily. “I don’t know what I expected tonight, but this…This has surpassed every fantasy I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Same here—” Jimin starts, only for his words to be cut off as you press a candied cherry between his lips. You do the same to Jungkook before he can get another word in.

Jungkook chews and narrows his eyes. “What was that for?”

Your lips curl into a playful smirk. “Your mouth was running, so I found something to fill it.”

His eyes darken as you pluck another cherry from the tray, holding it up just out of his reach, teasing. He licks his lips, gaze locked on you with an intensity that sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

You pop the cherry between your lips, slowly pulling the stem free with your teeth, and flick your tongue over the sweet juice left behind.

Jungkook groans. “You’re really pushing it, madam.”

Your smirk widens as you lean in close, lips just barely grazing his. “Oh, sweetheart,” you purr, voice dripping with promise. “We’re only getting started. Open wide,” you murmur, a wicked grin curling at your lips.

Jungkook watches you intently as you press another plump candied cherry against his parted lips. He accepts it without hesitation, tongue flicking against the fruit before swallowing it whole. But when you bring a third to his mouth, he hesitates, mischief flickering in his gaze.

“Jungkook…” your voice drops, a subtle warning laced in your tone. “Be a good boy and open your mouth.”

His lips twitch into something resembling defiance. His gaze holds yours, heavy with challenge, before he slowly shakes his head.

“Jungkook,” you warn again, firmer this time.

This time, he takes the cherry between his teeth only to spit it out a second later, his deep chuckle filling the space between you. His amusement is short-lived, though, because the way your eyes darken in disbelief tells him he’s just sealed his fate.

“That,” you murmur, tilting your head as you climb off his lap, “was not very nice.” Your steps are slow, and deliberate as you move across the room, fingers trailing over your carefully selected array of playthings. “What a waste of a perfectly good cherry.”

Jungkook swallows hard, watching with pleasurable anticipation as you finally settle on your choice and turn back toward the bed.

He knows he’s in trouble.

Jimin does his best to stifle his laugh, Kook really should have known better than to piss you off.

The sharp rip of duct tape slicing through the air fills the room, the sound alone enough to send a shiver down Jungkook’s spine. Before he can react, you press the strip firmly over his lips, sealing his defiance beneath a layer of unyielding silver.

His nostrils flare as he exhales sharply, eyes locked onto yours, dark with intrigue. Even now, with his mouth effectively muzzled, amusement dares you to push him further.

Smirking, you tilt your head. Oh, he has no idea what he’s just started.

Your fingers trace the edge of the red leather flogger before gripping it firmly, watching Jungkook with a wicked gleam in your eyes.

“Perhaps the tape isn’t enough," you muse, dragging the leather strands along his shoulder before stepping back. "Get on your hands and knees.”

Jimin, catching on quickly, quietly returns the fruit tray to the dresser while Jungkook sets aside his wine, following your command without protest.

You trail the flogger lightly down his spine before striking, the sharp slap of leather meeting skin echoes through the room. His muscles tense, a hiss slipping through his taped lips while his cock twitches below. Another hit, this time across the curve of his ass, pulls a deep, guttural noise from his throat.

“Do you remember the colors I told you earlier?" you ask, pausing to give him a moment to breathe. "If you want me to stop, what do you say?”

He hums dramatically, tilting his head as if in deep thought. “Hmm…Purple?” He answers, his voice muffled by the tape.

You deliver another swift strike, smirking when his back arches slightly from the intensity.

Once you feel he’s had enough, you set the flogger aside, running a soothing hand down his back before giving his hip a light tap. “Sit up.”

Jungkook obeys, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Are you done misbehaving?” you question.

He nods his head yes, though you have a feeling this won’t be the last time he acts up tonight.

Satisfied for the time being, you reach forward and peel the tape from his lips, smoothing your thumb over his jawline after discarding it.

“Good,” you purr, letting your fingers linger for just a moment before pulling away. “Let’s see if you can be a good boy now.”

You let the delicate straps of your lace teddy slip from your shoulders, guiding the sheer fabric down your curves before it pools at your feet. The cool air kisses your exposed skin, but it’s the way both men’s gazes darken with a hunger that sends a deeper shiver through you. Your nipples harden under their unwavering eyes.

Slowly, teasingly, you trail your hands over your body, cupping your breasts with feigned innocence and a wicked gleam in your eyes. “Are you ready to play some more?” you coo.

“Yes, madam,” they respond in unison, shifting toward the edge of the bed.

Grabbing the can of whipped cream, you shake it with a devilish smirk before standing between them, tilting the nozzle to coat your soft mounds in a cool, milky-sweet layer.

“Then devour me,” you command.

They don’t hesitate. Jimin's plush lips latch onto one breast, his tongue lapping at the sweetness while Jungkook tastes the other, groaning as he sucks and nibbles at the pebbled peak. The contrast between the cold cream and the wet heat of their mouths sends a shudder through your spine.

Your breath hitches, a gasp slipping from your lips as their tongues work in sync, licking away every last trace of the treat. Fingers dig into their hair, gripping, guiding—your eyes fluttering shut, rolling back as waves of pleasure ripple through your body.

They’re not just indulging in dessert.

They’re feasting.

Jimin, lost in the moment, accidentally bites down a little too hard on your nipple out of habit. The sharp sensation makes you gasp, and he immediately pulls back, eyes wide with regret.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he says quickly, his lips parting as if he wants to soothe the sting with soft kisses.

You tilt his chin up with a single finger, your lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “Careful, baby,” you tease, trailing your nails down his chest. “I’d hate to have to punish you for something so eager.”

His breath hitches, but he nods in understanding, waiting for your next move.

With that, you grab one of his favorite silk ties from the collection you had set out earlier, the smooth fabric gliding between your fingers as you fold it into a blindfold. Wrapping it securely around his eyes, you take a moment to admire how his plump lips part slightly as he adjusts to the loss of sight.

He secretly loves having his senses heightened. With his vision stolen, every touch is intensified. You trail a feather tassel along his throat, teasing the sensitive skin of his collarbone. He shivers, his head tilting slightly, exposing more of his skin for you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” you murmur, watching the way his body tenses under your control.

He nods, swallowing hard, his anticipation thickening the air between you.

Satisfied, you shift lower, enclosing your warm, damp mouth around his length. The sudden heat makes his hips jerk, and you hum in approval, suctioning around him while your hand tightens around the base. His breath comes out in sharp, uneven pants, hands curling into fists at his sides.

Coming up for air, you lick your lips and reach for the next delicious indulgence, something meant to be savored.

The melted ice cream glides from the spoon in a slow, tantalizing drizzle, spilling across his lower abs. The cold shocks his overheated skin, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the contrast. His cock twitches in your grip, responding involuntarily to the mixture of sensations, the edge of pleasure just out of reach.

“Poor baby,” you coo, dragging your tongue over the sweet mess. “How did that get here?”

You drag your tongue in a slow, deliberate line across his navel, cleaning up the last remnants of the melted drizzle. The taste of cream lingers on your lips as you straighten up, now towering over his seated figure.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

Jimin obeys without hesitation and extends his tongue, awaiting whatever you have planned. You scoop up a spoonful of the softened ice cream and let it drop onto his waiting tongue. He hums, but before he can fully savor it, you take a bite yourself.

Leaning in, you press your lips against his, parting them effortlessly as you spit the sweet, half-melted treat into his mouth.

“Swallow.”

You watch with twisted satisfaction as his Adam’s apple bobs, his throat working to obey your command. He lets out a shaky exhale once it’s down, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Alright,” you grin, stepping back pleased, “You’ve both been behaving very well.” You untie Jimin’s blindfold, his lashes fluttering as he adjusts to the light, before climbing onto the bed next to Jungkook, who is already pumping his throbbing length with impatient strokes.

“It’s both of your turn to have me however you want.”

They exchange a glance, a silent agreement passing between them in a way that makes your stomach tighten with anticipation.

Jungkook moves first, rolling you onto your stomach before effortlessly hiking you up onto your hands and knees. His strong hands grip your hips, positioning you exactly how he wants you. Behind you, he kneels between your legs, his thick cock pressing teasingly against your entrance.

Jimin moves to the other side of the bed, standing in front of you, his length bobbing in front of your parted lips. He strokes himself slowly, watching you with hunger.

Jungkook hesitates for a second, glancing up at Jimin, who gives him a small nod of encouragement. That’s all he needs. With one swift motion, he pushes his cock deep into your slick heat, filling you to the hilt.

A deep moan escapes you, but it’s quickly muffled as Jimin presses his flushed tip against your lips. You eagerly take him in, your mouth stretching around his thickness as he groans in pleasure.

Jimin’s frilly maid dress tickles your face with every thrust, the delicate lace too proper for the filthy scene unfolding.

Jungkook’s grip tightens on your hips, his arm veins straining as he pounds into your dangerously addictive cunt, each stroke sending shockwaves of pleasure through your trembling body.

Between them, you’re completely at their mercy and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jimin stretches your jaw wide, pushing deeper until your throat tightens around him, triggering an involuntary gag. His husky moan sends shivers down your spine as your teary eyes flutter shut, surrendering to the intoxicating mix of pleasure and submission.

Behind you, Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightens as he buries himself deeper inside your wet heat, drawing ragged breaths from both of you.

They’re both getting closer—too close.

With a wicked smirk, you pull away from Jimin’s cock, a thin string of saliva still connecting you as you take a deep breath. “Time to switch.”

Jimin barely has time to register your words before you press against his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress. His body melts into the sheets, chest rising and falling as you swing a leg over his hips and sink down onto his length in one smooth motion.

“Fuck,” he groans, head tilting back as he disappears inside your tight warmth.

Your fingers wrap delicately around his throat, it’s just enough pressure to remind him who’s in charge. His hazy, lust-blown eyes lock onto yours, completely at your mercy as you ride him, rolling your hips with a slow, deliberate rhythm that has him clawing at the sheets.

Jungkook isn’t far behind, pressing his solid frame against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “You love making us suffer, don’t you?” His words send a delicious shudder through you, and you reach behind to wrap your fingers around his neglected cock, pumping him lazily while keeping your pace on Jimin agonizingly slow.

Their breathing grows erratic, their bodies trembling beneath your touch. You know they’re both close again, teetering on the edge. But you’re not done tormenting them just yet.

Without warning, you release Jungkook from your grip and lift yourself off Jimin, leaving them both empty and desperate. Again.

“No. Fuck,” Jimin breathes, frustration laced in his voice. He stands up to follow you back toward the dresser, trying to drag you back to the bed. “You’re insane.”

You cock your head, unimpressed with his choice of words. “That’s not the right way to address me, is it?”

Jimin’s lips part, an apology forming, but his voice catches in his throat when he sees what’s now in your hand. His pupils dilate as you flick open the bottle of lube, letting the cool liquid drizzle onto the metal tip of the plug.

“Do you trust me?” you ask, voice softer now.

His chest rises and falls with anticipation before he nods. “Always.”

“Then bend over for me, beautiful.”

Jimin hesitantly hikes up his frilly maid dress, exposing his flawless skin as he leans against the bed for support. His breath hitches as you trail your fingers down the elegant curve of his spine, reveling in the way his body shivers under your touch. Pressing the chilled plug against his tight entrance, you smirk at the sharp inhale he takes, his muscles instinctively clenching at the new sensation.

“Take a deep breath and relax for me,” you whisper, your free hand smoothing over his lower back in reassurance.

Delicately, you guide the plug into place, his body lightly trembling with every small increment. A sharp gasp slips past his parted lips, followed by a shaky exhale as he adjusts to the stretch.

“That’s it,” you murmur, rubbing soothing circles over his hips. “Good boy.”

A scoff from behind you makes your head snap toward Jungkook.“Don’t be a baby, dude,” he teases, his ink-covered arms crossed over his chest, a smug grin tugging at his lips.

You narrow your eyes, unamused. “The sass never ends, does it?”

Before he can retort, you grab a cherry from the tray and shove it into his insolent mouth, silencing him. He glares at you, cheeks puffed out as he chews. But you’re not done with him yet. Swiftly, you retrieve the nipple clamps you’d set aside earlier and, before he can protest, attach them to his already sensitive buds. His cock twitches violently, his smirk wiped clean as a strangled moan escapes his throat.

Satisfied, you turn your attention back to Jimin, who is now fully adjusted and watching you with dark, hooded eyes. He licks his lips, stepping forward to press his body against yours from behind. You arch into his touch as he guides his length to your dripping entrance, the blunt tip pressing insistently at your folds before he sinks in with a deep, unrestrained groan.

Jungkook watches intently, still seated at the edge of the bed, his thighs tense as he palms himself in frustration with the taste of cherries still on his tongue. But you’re not about to let him get off so easily. Reaching down, you press your vibrator beneath the head of his throbbing cock, holding it in place with a featherlight touch. His entire body jolts, and a deep, guttural moan rips from his chest.

“Stay still,” you warn him.

Jimin picks up the pace, his hands gripping your waist with bruising intensity as he fucks into you from behind, his thrusts growing more desperate.

The relentless pleasure building between you all is dizzying. Your vision blurs as the coil in your stomach snaps, waves of white-hot heat crashing over you. A wrecked cry spills from your lips, your entire body convulsing around Jimin’s cock.

Jungkook grits his teeth, his chest heaving. “Are you close?” he asks his friend, “I can’t hold back much longer.” Obeying your rule—they have to cum together.

“I’m there, I’m there,” Jimin shudders, his nails digging into your sides as he reaches his peak, his release spilling deep inside you with a choked moan.

Jungkook doesn’t last a second longer. His hips jerk violently, and with a hoarse groan, he spills across your face in thick, hot ropes, his body trembling from the intensity.

Jimin, still buried inside you, watches the scene before him with heavy-lidded admiration. He’s always loved a good creampie moment. With a wicked smirk, he reaches down, gathering his own release on his fingers before massaging it into your already messy, leaking folds.

“You look so fucking good like this,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your shoulder.

Jungkook, still panting, leans back on his elbows, his chest rising and falling in the aftermath of his release. His dark eyes, heavy with post-orgasm bliss, flicker between you and Jimin. Feeling a little bold, he lets out a breathless chuckle and admits to his best friend, “She always does.”

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[myrrusstuff]

"Dinner party" | Vamp!Teen!Vi x Fem!reader

Pairing: Vamp!Teen!Violet x Human!Fem!Reader. | CW: Suggestive? not too much. they’re still young after all. Blood & Vampire feeding obv. Cursing. | Vi needs you while she’s trying to learn how to rein in her instincts. | WC; 706 | CC; 3.9K

You’re contemplating what to wear to the outing tonight, your fingers carding through your wardrobe. You settle on something simple, shorts and a baggy tee. I mean, you don’t want to overthink it, might as-well go for a casual choice. Vander had invited you over, as you’re Vi’s closest friend. You’ve been best friends ever since you were younger, inseparable almost. No one could get you to stop hanging out, even when you caused trouble together. Grounded? You’d just sneak out to the other’s house. It was second nature at this point. Although, at this dinner you won’t be the only guest. Vi’s brothers and sister will also have friends over. You’re not usually keen on big get togethers, but you make the effort to go, for Vi.

As you arrive, you notice a few boys already at the door, speaking to Vander and heading inside. You recognise them from school; though you’ve never spoken to them apart from maybe asking to borrow a pen. You assume they’re Mylo and Claggor’s friends, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. Why are you afraid? That’s stupid. This place is essentially your second home. Cmon, snap out of it! You are in-fact, snapped out of it, as you notice Vi in the doorway, in a passionate discussion with Vander. Your expression softens as you realise the boys must’ve already slipped past him, and you stroll up to the door. "Hello, Mr Vander" you say softly. "Just Vander is fine, I’ve been telling you that for ages. Really, any friend of Vi’s can just call me Vander." He corrects and you hastily nod. You would’ve spent more time hanging around, talking to those around you, but before you can process anything, Vi is already grabbing your wrist and pulling you into her room.

Before you can even realise what’s happening, you’re met with Vi’s piercing stare. She’s managed to climb onto your lap, holding you still with her weight, although she’s careful not to hurt you. Fuck, what is she doing? You expect her to stop, to climb off, or atleast speak. But she just sits there. She’s just sat there, panting softly as if trying to catch her breath. You feel the air around you become heavier, an undercurrent of tension surrounding you that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, but noticeable. Vi’s face is inching closer, her heartbeat racing, you can hear it. Her warm breath fanning your face, making a shiver run up your spine. You can’t help but think.. is she actually going to kiss you? Is it really happening?

Your thought process is cut off by the feeling of a sudden 'prick' in your neck, you feel a warm liquid seep down. Oh! Oh. Vi buried her face in your neck, not that you mind. Infact, you tilt your head to the side, embracing the burning feeling her fangs give you as they draw blood. This had never happened before, Vi had never even gotten close to loosing control, this is new. Even though you’ve always been aware Vi was from a vampire lineage, you had never expected to be in such a position. Vi’s knee between your legs as she’s ontop of you, her face buried in your neck, albeit fangs too, but still. You can hear her breathing begin to calm, returning back to normal as she slowly drinks. She’s almost.. gentle. Gentle is a foreign concept for Vi, it’s always been as though she didn’t know what the word even meant. Though, maybe that was just her being a traditional reckless teen. This.. this was different. She was actively trying to keep you safe, keep you comfortable. You can’t help but let out a slight whimper at the compromising position mixed with the strange sensation filling your neck and chest. The noise causes Vi to still, pulling back slightly. "Did you just..?" She murmurs. Your face turns pink, and in a last attempt to void her seeing you all flustered, you gently push her head back towards your neck. "..shut up," you respond sharply, though there’s no real aggression in your tone. You feel her sink her teeth back in, relaxing into your touch again. Yeah, you could get used to this.

Notes;; This was re uploaded from my old blog @myrruwrites. It was kinda lazy,, and I dunno how to feel about it but I love vamp Vi!!!

[venti-tangents]

General Rafayel Relationship Headcanons

F!MC, no use of Y/N. These are based on my interpretation of the text in Love and Deepspace

sfw

1. His works contains traces of his MC almost everywhere. Rafayel is known for not drawing humans, but that doesn’t stop him form incorporating his lover in everything he creates. Those who look closely will find the flow of the painted ocean to be similar to the flow of her hair, the colours of the fish lifted directly from her wardrobe—Rafayel’s devotion is clear in his paintings, for all to see.

Intertidal zone reveled a lot about how Raf gets inspiration for his craft—and how much of it comes form his MC (sometimes to the point where it concerns him)

2. He wants be around his lover at all times. They don’t have to be talking, touching or even directly interacting—just her presence is enough for him.

3. Cuddliest boyfriend on the planet. I think it takes a bit for his super cuddly side to come out, but when it does, he is almost always attached to his MC. He’s addicted to her warmth, and loves how soft she feels in his arms. Perhaps a small, yet ever growing part of him feels as though she will never forget him again, so long as he can keep her in his arms.

I just know that the MC and Rafayel are most annoying couple you know, if the recent event stories are anything to go by lol. They’re all over each other all the time

Abyssal Chaos gave us rafmc cuddling in front of a window, Tailwag Obsession gave us rafmc cuddling on the floor with a cat by their side, the list goes on and on

4. Banter never ends with this guy. No matter how long him and his MC have been together. On the other hand, long, philosophical discussions are also common place.

5. Raf can canonically sense his MC’s emotions. I read him to be incredibly emotionally mature, and knowing of what his MC needs, and how to provide it to her.

In many of his 4 star audio cards, Raf is shown taking care of MC emotionally. He pulls back when she needs quiet (Rainbow Strokes), is pushy when she’s hesitant, is reassuring when she feels insecure (flowery words). He pulls her out of the house when she’s down(sparkling traces), he lulls her to sleep when she needs him to (sleep aid, memory replay)

6. On the flip side, I think Rafayel loves to be pampered. He melts so easily when his MC provides him with reassuring words and actions (Omniscient perception, intertidal zone, sea god event story).

7. This is a bit of an underdeveloped thought in my head, but Rafayel has a rather possessive side, as shown in his most recent stories. The lumarian words he uses to describe his feelings for the MC literally translates to “You’re mine,” and he talks a lot about leaving his “mark” or “colour” on her.

I think he also likes being claimed by the MC—he wants her to possess him just as much as he possesses her. I wonder if part of this comes from his fear of taking too much from the MC, wanting too much from her, so her being possessive over him calms those fears

nsfw

1. I used to think of Raf as a switch top, but as I learned more about him, I would say he’s mostly a vanilla (no power exchange) verse (tops and bottoms/ gives and receives).

In other words, I think him and his MC don’t really exchange power in their dynamic outside of the sea god - devout follower bond. I think they’re very back and forth about giving and receiving, leading and following in almost every interaction they have.

When him and his MC do decide to play with power dynamics in bed, I think he leans towards taking the dominant role; as much as I love subby Raf, I can’t recall a time in the game where he *truly* summits to MC (in the context of bdsm dynamics). Even when the MC attempts to take control, he flips the dynamic the second she falters. Even when she ties him up (ie. Tipsy Invitation, Promised Wildfire), he makes demands of her in a way that goes further then provocation.

I’ve spoken on this before, back when gem affection came out, but I think Rafayel gets off on “turning the tables” on his lover. Very siren like of him

2. Body worship. He’s absolutely enamored with his lover’s body, obsessed with every part of it. He’ll leave kisses everywhere, so that even if his lover forgets him, her body will never forget his touch

On the other hand, he would love to have his body worshiped too. He wants his lover’s touch *everywhere*, to the point where he finds himself feeling the ghost of her lips all over his body long after their last encounter. In the moment, it serves as a reminder of her obsession with him, that his devotion is reciprocated. He is a god after all—what’s the job of a devout follower if not to worship her god.

3. Scent Kink. He’s OBSESSED with how his lover smells.

4. The biggest tease to ever tease. Off the top of my head, I think of fiery undercuts, but he’s a huge tease in all of his cards

5. I read Rafayel as an incredibly passionate lover. I think to him, intimacy is sacred—it’s not just pleasure to him, but rather him and his lover surrendering themselves to one another. It’s deeply romantic to him, and an exercise in trust

[myrruwrites]

"Dinner party" | Vamp!Teen!Vi x Fem!reader

Pairing: Vamp!Teen!Violet x Human!Fem!Reader. | CW: Suggestive? not too much. they’re still young after all. Blood & Vampire feeding obv. Cursing. | Vi needs you while she’s trying to learn how to rein in her instincts. | WC; 706 | CC; 3.9K

You’re contemplating what to wear to the outing tonight, your fingers carding through your wardrobe. You settle on something simple, shorts and a baggy tee. I mean, you don’t want to overthink it, might as-well go for a casual choice. Vander had invited you over, as you’re Vi’s closest friend. You’ve been best friends ever since you were younger, inseparable almost. No one could get you to stop hanging out, even when you caused trouble together. Grounded? You’d just sneak out to the other’s house. It was second nature at this point. Although, at this dinner you won’t be the only guest. Vi’s brothers and sister will also have friends over. You’re not usually keen on big get togethers, but you make the effort to go, for Vi.

As you arrive, you notice a few boys already at the door, speaking to Vander and heading inside. You recognise them from school; though you’ve never spoken to them apart from maybe asking to borrow a pen. You assume they’re Mylo and Claggor’s friends, taking a deep breath to steel yourself. Why are you afraid? That’s stupid. This place is essentially your second home. Cmon, snap out of it! You are in-fact, snapped out of it, as you notice Vi in the doorway, in a passionate discussion with Vander. Your expression softens as you realise the boys must’ve already slipped past him, and you stroll up to the door. "Hello, Mr Vander" you say softly. "Just Vander is fine, I’ve been telling you that for ages. Really, any friend of Vi’s can just call me Vander." He corrects and you hastily nod. You would’ve spent more time hanging around, talking to those around you, but before you can process anything, Vi is already grabbing your wrist and pulling you into her room.

Before you can even realise what’s happening, you’re met with Vi’s piercing stare. She’s managed to climb onto your lap, holding you still with her weight, although she’s careful not to hurt you. Fuck, what is she doing? You expect her to stop, to climb off, or atleast speak. But she just sits there. She’s just sat there, panting softly as if trying to catch her breath. You feel the air around you become heavier, an undercurrent of tension surrounding you that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, but noticeable. Vi’s face is inching closer, her heartbeat racing, you can hear it. Her warm breath fanning your face, making a shiver run up your spine. You can’t help but think.. is she actually going to kiss you? Is it really happening?

Your thought process is cut off by the feeling of a sudden 'prick' in your neck, you feel a warm liquid seep down. Oh! Oh. Vi buried her face in your neck, not that you mind. Infact, you tilt your head to the side, embracing the burning feeling her fangs give you as they draw blood. This had never happened before, Vi had never even gotten close to loosing control, this is new. Even though you’ve always been aware Vi was from a vampire lineage, you had never expected to be in such a position. Vi’s knee between your legs as she’s ontop of you, her face buried in your neck, albeit fangs too, but still. You can hear her breathing begin to calm, returning back to normal as she slowly drinks. She’s almost.. gentle. Gentle is a foreign concept for Vi, it’s always been as though she didn’t know what the word even meant. Though, maybe that was just her being a traditional reckless teen. This.. this was different. She was actively trying to keep you safe, keep you comfortable. You can’t help but let out a slight whimper at the compromising position mixed with the strange sensation filling your neck and chest. The noise causes Vi to still, pulling back slightly. "Did you just..?" She murmurs. Your face turns pink, and in a last attempt to void her seeing you all flustered, you gently push her head back towards your neck. "..shut up," you respond sharply, though there’s no real aggression in your tone. You feel her sink her teeth back in, relaxing into your touch again. Yeah, you could get used to this.

[silverstar70]

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes.

Summary: Helping Hotch turned into something more.

Warnings: 🔞‼️ established relationship, smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, finger fucking, orgasm edging, praise kink, consensual sex, domestic fluff, comfort.

Words count: 6,415k Hope you like it! Enjoy it!

Need help?

The sharp tang of antiseptic filled the air as Aaron Hotchner stepped out of the bathroom, his right shoulder swaddled in bandages. The bullet had been removed successfully the week before, but the ache still lingered. He hated being out of commission, even temporarily. Hotch was a man of routine and discipline, and this forced rest grated on his nerves.

Y/N watched him from the couch, her gaze softening as she took in his stiff posture and the dark circles under his eyes. She’d insisted on taking a few weeks off to help him recover, knowing that even if injured he was unwilling and too stubborn to admit he needed help. And Hotch, of course, was the epitome of stubbornness.

“How’s the shoulder?” she asked, setting aside the book she’d been pretending to read.

“Fine,” he replied curtly, his voice clipped. He didn’t like talking about his injuries, much less admitting to any discomfort. But she noticed the slight wince as he adjusted his sling.

“Liar,” she teased, standing up and walking over to him. “You’re terrible at hiding it, you know.”

He gave her a pointed look, but she only smiled, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated, softer this time.

“Sure you are.” She reached out and smoothed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. “Have you eaten?”

He hesitated, and that was already an answer. Y/N sighed, her hands finding her hips. “Aaron, you need to take care of yourself. And that includes eating something more substantial than coffee.”

“I’ll make something later,” he said, brushing past her toward the bedroom. “I just need a minute.”

She let him go, knowing better than pushing too hard. But she considered preparing a proper meal anyway. She’d learned to read between the lines with him—her training and years of knowing him came in hand with situations like that.

*

The next morning, Y/N woke to the sound of muffled cursing from the bathroom. She frowned when she realized the bed near her was empty, before padding toward the door. It was ajar, and through the crack, she saw Hotch standing in front of the mirror, razor in hand.

“Hotch,” she called, pushing the door open. He froze, his jaw tightening as he met her gaze in the mirror. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t turn, though she saw the faintest flicker of guilt in his reflection. “Shaving,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“With your left hand?”

He paused for half a second before continuing, his movements slow and deliberate. “I’m left-handed.”

“You shave with your right hand” she corrected, pushing off the doorframe and walking toward him.

He sighed but didn’t look at her. “It’s fine. I’ve got it under control.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she watched him attempt another pass with the razor. His fingers were steady, but the angle was awkward, and the strain on his face told Y/N all she needed to know.

“Of course, you have,” she said, drawing out the words.

The sentence was cut short by a muffled curse as the razor nicked the skin just below his cheekbone and a bead of blood welled up instantly.

“Damn it,” he muttered, finally setting the razor down on the edge of the sink.

She couldn’t help but laugh. It was soft and affectionate, but it earned her a sharp look from him in the mirror. “It’s not funny,” he grumbled.

“It’s a little funny,” Y/N said, stepping closer. She plucked the razor from his hand before he could protest and reached for the hand towel hanging by the sink. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” he muttered, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

Y/N shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Aaron, you’re recovering from a gunshot wound. Helping you isn’t a bother.” She grabbed a damp cloth and gently wiped away the blood. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I didn’t think it would be this hard. I’m used to doing things myself.”

“I know,” she said, her tone light but her eyes warm. “Let me help. Sit.”

He hesitated, but the look she gave him left no room for argument. Reluctantly, he perched on the edge of the bathtub. Y/N lathered up a fresh shaving cream, her movements precise and deliberate.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asked dryly as she tilted his chin up.

“Immensely,” she replied, her lips twitching. “It’s not every day I get to see SSA Hotchner at my mercy.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the sound low and warm. “Just don’t nick me.”

She worked carefully, her fingers steady as she guided the razor over his jawline. The intimacy of the moment didn’t pass on either of them. Her touch was gentle but firm, and he found himself relaxing under her care.

“You have too much pride sometimes,” she murmured as she rinsed the razor.

“I’ve been told that before,” he admitted.

“Well, consider this your lesson in humility.” She leaned closer, her breath warm against his skin. “And don’t worry, I’ll only tease you about it a little.”

“A little?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

She grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Okay, maybe a lot.”

His expression softened, and he reached up with his good hand to brush a strand of hair from her face. Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. Moments like this, when Aaron let his guard down completely, were rare and precious.

“You know,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence, “I think I like you with a little scruff.”

His eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N said, leaning in a little closer as she worked on his jawline. “Makes you look rugged.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “You have a type, then?”

“Oh, definitely,” she teased. “Brooding, stubborn, impossible men who can’t ask for help even when they’re bleeding.”

He smirked, the expression making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Sounds familiar.”

“It should,” Y/N shot back, her tone light.

She tilted his chin to the side, her fingers brushing against the warm skin of his neck. The movement was casual, but it sent a thrill through her and wondered if he felt it too.

“All done,” she said after a few more careful passes with the razor. Y/N stepped back, wiping the blade clean before setting it down. “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He looked up at her, his dark eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite name. “Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere.

Y/N smiled, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. “Anytime.”

Her gaze met his, and the air between them shifted subtly. The playful banter faded, replaced by a palpable tension that thrummed with unspoken words. Y/N’s cheeks flushed under his intense scrutiny, and she tried to look away, but he tugged her closer, his grip firm yet tender.

“Aaron,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t respond immediately, instead, he stood, guiding Y/N backward until her hips bumped against the edge of the bathroom counter. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that started soft but deepened with each passing second.

Y/N tangled her fingers in his hair, her touch gentle yet eager as her nails scraped lightly against his scalp. He groaned softly into her mouth, the sound vibrating between them and sending a shiver down her spine.

“Aaron,” she whispered, her voice breathless as she broke the kiss, her lips brushing his in the barest of movements.

His dark eyes met hers, the heat in them unmistakable. He wasn’t just looking at her—he was consuming her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“Are you sure?” she asked, her voice soft but steady, her fingers trailing lightly down his jawline.

His response was immediate, his hand sliding to her waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of her shirt. “I’m sure,” he murmured, his tone rough with want.

He leaned in again, his lips finding hers with hunger. The kiss was anything but tentative now, his good hand slipping under her top to trace the curve of her waist. His fingers were warm and firm against her skin, sending sparks of heat coursing through her.

Y/N gasped softly as his touch ventured higher, his thumb grazing the edge of her ribcage. Y/N pulled back slightly, her breath mingling with his as her eyes searched his face. “Your shoulder,” she said, her tone laced with concern.

“Babe.” He called out, his voice, low and commanding, sending a shiver down her spine. His dark eyes locked onto hers, holding her in place as he cupped her face with his good hand.

“Shut up and let me take care of you.”

Her lips parted, but no protest came. The intensity in his gaze left no room for argument, only trust. She nodded faintly, and his expression softened, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured before capturing her lips again.

Her heart fluttered at his words as a shiver ran through her spine. The kiss grew more heated, a fire kindling between them that was impossible to ignore. Hotch’s hand slid up her back, pulling her closer as best as he could without straining his injured shoulder.

Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging lightly as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. T

“Oh, God,” she breathed as his lips left hers, trailing down the column of her neck. He paused at the hollow of her throat, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.

She gripped the counter behind her for support, her legs feeling unsteady as his kisses grew bolder. Her pajama top rode up further as his hand traveled upward, fingers tracing the dip of her waist and the curve of her ribcage.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered against her skin, the words raw and honest.

Her heart swelled at the confession, her body responding with a wave of warmth that made her press closer to him. She could feel the heat of his body through his pajama top, the fabric stretched slightly across his broad chest.

“Let me see you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the hem of her shirt and slowly pushed the fabric up, exposing inch after inch of her skin. She took her time, his gaze never leaving hers as she lifted the shirt over her head and let it fall to the floor.

His eyes roamed her body, darkening with appreciation. “Perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She felt the blush rise to her cheeks but didn’t look away. His hand slid to the small of her back, guiding her against him as he pressed his hips to hers. The hard edge of the counter pressed into her lower back, but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the way his body felt against hers, the heat radiating from him like a furnace.

She let out a soft gasp. “Aaron,” she breathed, her voice trembling with a mixture of desire and restraint.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her skin, though the words were tinged with a hunger that betrayed his own struggle to hold back.

“Don’t,” she whispered, her hands sliding down to his chest.

His lips found hers again with no hesitation. The kiss was searing, their breaths mingling as the world outside the bathroom faded away. Y/N’s hands roamed over his t-shirt, careful to avoid his injured shoulder.

Hotch’s hand slipped over her waist, his fingers skimming along her side, igniting a trail of warmth. She shivered at his touch, her body instinctively arching toward him. The tension between them built steadily, the air thick with desire and unspoken need.

Aaron’s hands, strong and deliberate, roamed her body as if memorizing every curve. Her breath hitched when his fingers teased the waistband of her pajama pants, toying with the fabric. He gently tugged the pants and underwear down over her hips. She shifted to help him, the soft cotton falling at her feet.

“Up,” he murmured, his voice a gravelly command as he gestured to the counter behind her.

She instinctively hopped up onto it, her legs parting to accommodate him as he stepped between them. The cool surface of the countertop against her thighs was a stark contrast to the heat between them.

He stood before her, eyes darkened with desire, his breath shallow as he took in the sight of her. His gaze was hungry, but tender at the same time.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and full of admiration. His good hand cupped her face, pulling her lips to his in a soft kiss.

Her fingers ran through his hair, tugging him closer. She wanted him, needed him, and she could feel the way he responded—his body leaning into hers, his hand moving lower as if it had a mind of its own. His hard cock pressed against her core made her wetter by the second.

She was breathless as Aaron pulled away from her lips, moving down her neck.

“You’re perfect,” Aaron murmured, his voice thick with desire.

She felt the warmth of his chest against her bare skin, and her hands slid to his shoulders, urging him forward as she tilted her head back, her throat exposed to him, to give him better access.

His hand found its way down her body, brushing over her curves, making her shiver under his touch. He was always so deliberate, so careful, but that morning, there was an undeniable urgency in his every movement. His fingers teased her inner thigh before brushing against her wet clit, making her gasp.

"Good girl," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "So wet, just for me."

She let out a soft moan, clutching him as if he were the only thing holding her together. "Aaron..." Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with need, a sound of complete surrender.

“Be patient,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “I want to enjoy this and I’m not going to rush.”

His fingers traced deliberately slow circles over her clit, never pressing enough to give her what she wanted. Her knuckles gripped harder onto the counter, almost turning white. He was torturing her and God if she loved it.

The words made her pulse race, and she closed her eyes for a moment, trying to hold on. But when his fingers finally dipped lower, just enough to press gently, teasing the sensitive skin, she couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped her lips.

“Please, Aaron…” she whispered, her voice shaky, the need in her tone undeniable.

He paused, just for a second, and looked down at her with that same commanding intensity. "What do you want, babe?" His thumb circled lazily, not quite where she needed it but enough to send a wave of heat coursing through her body.

"I want you," she said, her voice low, a confession and a plea in one.

Aaron said nothing, he simply watched her. His fingers still teasing and circling, his thumb pressing softly against her. The teasing rhythm was enough to leave her aching, her chest rising and falling with every breath she took.

Finally, his fingers slid deeper, pressing firmly as her back arched in relief, her hands grabbing desperately at his forearms. His thumb moved in a rhythm that made her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting in quiet gasps as the tension in her body finally started to unravel.

The room was filled with the sound of her breathing, the rhythm of his fingers as they worked her closer to the edge. She couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her, her body jerking with the pressure of it all.

“Oh, God.” She moaned breathless.

Aaron’s lips were at her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “That’s it, babe. Let go for me.”

His words sent a shudder through her, the combination of his touch and his voice breaking her completely. She felt herself tensing, the wave of pleasure building, until it crashed through her, sending her head back against the bathroom mirror with a soft thud.

“Aaron” she gasped.

He didn’t stop, his fingers still moving slowly, keeping her right on the edge as she shivered beneath him. He watched her, his eyes dark with hunger, the faintest of smiles on his lips. He waited until the aftershocks of her release passed until she was breathless and trembling before he finally pulled his hand away.

“Good?” he asked softly, his thumb wiping across her damp skin.

Y/N nodded, still catching her breath, her hands weakly resting on his chest as she tried to steady herself. “God, Aaron…”

His smile softened, and he kissed her gently on her forehead, the heat of his earlier teasing replaced with a tenderness that made her heart swell.

Y/N, breathless and still caught in the aftershock of the moment, took a moment to recover. Her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to catch her breath, the heat of Aaron’s touch still lingering on her skin.

But just as she thought the intensity might finally ease, his voice broke through her thoughts—low, commanding, and dripping with that familiar edge of dominance that always sent a thrill through her.

"I'm not done with you."

Y/N’s pulse skipped a beat, her heart racing again as she met his gaze. There was a fire in his eyes, an unmistakable hunger that made her shiver with anticipation.

Before she could react, he dropped to his knees, his gaze never leaving hers as he slowly and deliberately ran his hands up the inside of her thighs, making her skin burn with his touch. His fingers grazed just lightly over her, teasing and barely there, but enough to make her body ache for more.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down at him, a mix of shock and desire coursing through her. "Aaron..." she started, her voice shaky with the rush of emotions flooding her. She tried to steady herself, but her legs felt weak, trembling from the intense sensations still coursing through her.

"Shh," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes, dark with desire, flicked up to hers before he leaned in closer, pressing soft, lingering kisses to the inside of her thighs.

The sensation of his mouth against her was electrifying, the warmth of his breath on her sensitive skin making her pulse quicken.

He kissed her slowly at first, savoring the taste of her, but soon the pressure increased as he licked and sucked with urgency. Her hands flew to his hair, pulling him closer, her body writhing beneath his touch.

“God,” she gasped, her hips bucking instinctively, seeking more.

He obliged, his movements growing more confident, more purposeful, as he expertly drove her higher. Her breath came in short, broken bursts, her body trembling as she teetered on the edge.

“Please,” she begged, her voice desperate.

His lips pressed closer to her, teasing her. She shivered, arching her back instinctively, the desperate need to feel him deeper overwhelming her. His breath tickled her skin, and he took his time, savoring the moment, enjoying every part of her.

"That's my girl," he said softly, his voice a soothing contrast to the growing tension between them. "Let me hear you, baby. Tell me what you want."

Her chest rose and fell with each shaky breath, her hands gripping him tighter. "Please," she pleaded, her voice raw with desire. “I need you.”

He didn’t waste any more time. His lips parted, and he kissed her, his tongue flicking out as he pressed the tip against her. The sensation was enough to make her gasp, her body reacting to the instant heat of his touch.

“That's it,” Aaron murmured as his lips and tongue worked in tandem, his hand holding her steady, guiding her deeper into the sensation. “You taste so fucking good, baby.”

Each flick of his tongue, each long drag, sent waves of pleasure crashing over her, overwhelming her senses. Y/N's hands gripped the counter harder, her fingers twisting into the edge as the world around them seemed to blur.

“God, Aaron,” she gasped, her hips lifting to meet the rhythm of his movements. Y/N could feel the familiar tension building again, the sweet pressure coiling tight inside of her as he kept her on the edge, pulling her closer to the release she desperately needed.

He responded with a low, satisfied hum, the sound vibrating against her skin and making her body shiver. He moved faster, his tongue working on her relentlessly, and just as she felt yourself breaking apart, she called out his name—loud and needy.

“Aaron!” she moaned loudly as her release hit her.

Her body shuttered as waves of pleasure consumed her, her breath coming in short gasps. It was overwhelming, the way he made her feel, the way he could take her to the edge with just the touch of his lips. When she finally came down from high, her body was still trembling.

He pulled away and stood again between her legs, his dark eyes searching hers. ���Are you okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing over her hip as he checked in, his concern for her still present despite his own desire.

She nodded, a shaky smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I’m more than okay,” she breathed out, her chest still heaving.

Aaron’s hands cupped her face, his expression tender as he kissed her gently. His prominent erection, pressed against her, caught her eye as she bit her lower lips at the feeling.  Her hands trailed up his chest, fingers brushing over the firm muscle of his abs, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat under her touch. Her eyes locked with his and a mischievous smile appeared on her lips.

“I want you, Aaron,” she said, her voice thick with need. “Now.”

She reached for the waistband of his pajama pants. Aaron’s gaze never wavered, though his breath hitched at the sensation of her hands on him. He looked down at her, watching with intensity, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “You’re determined, aren’t you?”

“Always,” she replied with a playful smile.

She pulled him closer as he kissed her again—deeply, passionately. His hands slid down her body, his touch slow but deliberate, his palms warm against her skin. She melted under his touch, her heart racing as she felt him pull away for just a moment.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. With her help, he pulled off his T-shirt and pants, leaving him standing before her in nothing but his boxers. She took a moment to admire his body, not defined by a six-pack, but still undeniably strong, lean muscle that spoke of years of training.

She ran her gaze over him, noting the slight curve of his chest and the muscle definition that was evident but not overbearing. His arms were powerful, veins tracing their way down his forearms. Her eyes paused at the scars scattered across his chest—marks from past cases, injuries that had shaped but didn’t define him.

He caught her gaze and immediately tensed, self-conscious as he always was when it came to his scars.

“Don’t,” she said gently, her fingers tracing the edge of a scar that ran diagonally across his skin. She silenced any protests with a soft kiss, pressing her lips against his before he could say anything.

Her hands roamed over his shoulders, down to his arms, and she felt the tension begin to melt from his body as she kissed him deeper. She could feel the steadiness of his heartbeat under her fingertips, the warmth of his skin, and it made her own pulse quicken.

She smiled softly, her hands moving lower, down his back, and over the waistband of his boxers. The way he tensed beneath her touch was both endearing and exhilarating, a reminder that even someone as composed and controlled as Aaron Hotchner wasn’t immune to her.

“Relax,” she teased, her tone light as her fingers hooked into the fabric, slowly guiding it down.

He chuckled low in his throat, shaking his head. “You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured, but the affection in his voice was unmistakable.

“What a way to go.” She shot back, leaning in to capture his lips, leaving no room for argument.

The boxers slipped to the floor, and she took a moment to appreciate him fully, her hands sliding along his sides, her touch firm but tender. Her gaze met his, and the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

“Come here,” she said softly, her voice thick with need as she tugged him closer, holding his head between her hands and crushing his lips into hers. Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him against her.

He kissed her hungrily, like his life depended on it. His good hand slid down her back to steady her against him. The strength of his touch, the closeness of their body, ignited a fire within her that burned hotter with every moment.

“Aaron,” she gasped as his lips left hers, trailing down her jawline, her neck, the hollow of her throat.

His hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter. She arched into him, her body responding instinctively to his touch, her breath catching as he found the sensitive spots that made her tremble.

Slowly, he guided himself into her, his movements deliberate and careful. She gasped at the sensation, her nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her completely, the warmth and closeness leaving her dizzy.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “That’s my good girl.”

Her breath hitched at his words, her body arching into him as her thighs tightened around his waist. His lips found hers again as he began to move, each thrust measured and precise.

The rhythm he set was slow but intense, his focus entirely on her, watching her every reaction as he adjusted his angle to draw soft moans from her lips. His good hand gripped her waist, steadying her as their bodies moved together in perfect harmony.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice commanding yet tender.

She obeyed, her gaze locking onto his, the intensity in his dark eyes stealing what little breath she had left. Her head tilted back as the pleasure began to overwhelm her. Every part of her body was sensitive to him, each touch sending sparks of heat racing through her. His praise was a balm to her racing heart, grounding her as the pleasure mounted.

"Good girl," he whispered again, his voice growling against her skin. “You’re so responsive for me. So perfect.”

His hands moved to her hips, guiding her slightly as he continued, his focus completely on her. Every kiss, every thrust, sent waves of pleasure crashing over her. She could barely breathe, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps.

“Aaron...” she gasped again, the word coming out in a broken breath.

His lips brushed against her ear, his voice a low, commanding growl. “Not yet, baby.”

Her breath hitched, her body trembling as his words sent another wave of heat spreading through her. He adjusted his angle slightly, his good hand gripping her waist with a firmness that made her toes curl.

“You can hold on for me,” he murmured, his forehead pressing against hers. “I know you can.”

The intensity of his gaze left her breathless, her muscles tightening around him as she tried to obey. He slowed his rhythm, teasing her with shallow thrusts that left her aching for more.

“Aaron,” she whimpered, her hands tangling in his hair as she clung to him. “Please.”

“Patience, sweetheart,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “I want you to feel everything.”

Her body shuddered at his words, the tension inside her building to an almost unbearable level. His lips captured hers in a searing kiss, his movements finally resuming their steady pace.

“Good girl,” he whispered against her lips, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “That’s my good girl.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breaths mingling with his as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. He smiled against her skin, clearly enjoying the effect he had on her.

“God, Aaron,” a cry escaped her lips as her body tightened around him. “Please.”

He groaned softly, his restraint wavering as he watched her, completely undone beneath him. “Alright, baby,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. “Now. Let go for me.”

The words were her breaking point. Her body arched against his, her cry muffled against his shoulder as the tension snapped and pleasure surged through her in powerful waves. Her thighs tightened around him, her entire body trembling as she surrendered to the release he’d kept her waiting for.

“Aaron!” she cried out, her back arching as waves of pleasure ripped through her.

He continued his ministrations, drawing out every last wave of pleasure from her as she trembled under his touch.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his hand stroking her back soothingly as he held her close. “That’s my good girl. So beautiful when you come undone like that.”

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she clung to him, her head resting against his chest as the aftershocks of her release rippled through her. He didn’t stop moving and quickened his pace as the overwhelming warmth of her release drew him closer to his own edge. His jaw clenched, his breathing heavy as he fought to maintain control, savoring every second of her.

“Aaron,” she whispered, her voice soft and pleading as her hands slid down his forearms. Her touch was electrifying as her fingers dug into his skin. “Cum for me,” she murmured, her voice tender and grounding.

The combination of her words and the way her body fit so perfectly around him was his undoing. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his breath hot against her skin as his body tensed.

“God, Y/N,” he rasped, his voice breaking as he finally let go.

The release hit him hard, a deep groan escaping his lips as his movements stilled, his body shuddering against hers. The tension that had been coiled so tightly in him unraveled all at once, leaving him trembling in her arms.

She held him through it, her fingers stroking his damp hair, her lips pressing soft kisses to his temple. His grip on her hip loosened slightly, his hand sliding up her back in a soothing caress as he tried to catch his breath.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his dark eyes filled with adoration. They stayed like that for a long moment, as their breaths slowed down in the quiet of the bathroom. Slowly, Aaron lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting hers with a softness that made her heart skip a beat.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “So beautiful.”

Her arms slid around him, pulling him closer, wanting to feel his warmth against hers. "I love you," she whispered against his lips, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I love you, too," he said.

He kissed her again, soft and tender, his lips molding to hers as if he wanted to savor the moment. It wasn’t hurried, not this time. They reluctantly pulled apart, resting their foreheads against each other.

She pulled away after a moment, her hand resting on his chest. “How’s your shoulder?” she asked, her voice soft with concern, her fingers grazing the sling that hung from his arm.

Aaron winced slightly, but only for a moment before he offered a reassuring smile. “It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt too much.”

She frowned, the worry in her eyes betraying her concern. “You’re lying,” she teased.

He chuckled, brushing a lock of hair from her face as he leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Maybe just a little. But it’s worth it.”

She shook her head, her fingers gently massaging his uninjured shoulder. “You’re too stubborn for your own good.”

“Guilty as charged.”

She leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his lips before sliding off the counter, her feet touching the cool tile floor, and pulled on her underwear and his t-shirt. He couldn’t help but watch, his eyes darkening for a moment before he turned away with a soft chuckle as he wore his boxers with a little effort.

“I’ll make us breakfast,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice as she started toward the door.

He followed her down the stairs into the kitchen, his arm lightly draped around her waist as they made their way to the fridge. He reached for the eggs and bacon, pulling out what they’d need for a simple breakfast. She grabbed the orange juice, the sunlight filtering through the windows, casting a soft, warm glow over the room.

As she cooked, the kitchen was filled with the sounds of sizzling bacon and the faint hum of the coffee maker working its magic. The two of them settled into a comfortable silence, just enjoying each other’s presence.

When the breakfast was ready, Y/N set a plate down in front of him, along with a glass of orange juice. She made sure to set everything up. “Here,” she said, her voice soft.

Aaron’s smile softened as he took the plate from her. “Thanks,” he said softly, his eyes focused on the eggs on the plate. “And I’m sorry for being so stubborn.”

Y/N turned to him, surprised. She hadn’t expected him to apologize. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice gentle as she set the table.

“I should’ve asked you for help sooner,” he said, his words a little heavier than he intended. “But I just…I don’t like feeling like a burden.”

She stepped closer, her eyes searching for his face with care. “Aaron,” she said, her voice soft but unwavering, “you’re never a burden to me.” She gently cupped his cheek

He closed his eyes at her touch, leaning into her hand for a moment. “I know,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He opened his eyes, meeting hers. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“I’m a big girl, I can handle pressure.” She gave him a soft smile, the corners of her lips lifting. “You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulder, honey,” she said, her voice warm, full of affection.

He nodded slightly, a bit skeptical but accepting the truth in her words. He knew that his pride might sometimes get in the way. He had always been someone who believed in handling things on his own, not burdening others with his troubles. But in the end, it had been the very thing that had permanently divided him and Haley.

She had needed him to open up, but instead, he had kept her at a distance, retreating into himself. He hadn’t known how to let her in, how to let go of the constant need to be the strong, self-sufficient one. He had believed that if he could just do it all by himself everything would work out. But in the process, he’d unknowingly pushed her away.

Aaron’s gaze lingered on Y/N, sitting across from him, a quiet smile playing at her lips as she sipped her coffee. He realized how different things were with her. She understood the job, being a team leader herself, she had lived through the same struggles he had.

She had her own pride and stubbornness to deal with, but with Hotch, there was also the willingness to share the burden, to completely trust in each other. Y/N knew what it was like to be always the strongest one in front of the worst situations. She was everything he had ever needed, even if he hadn’t realized it at first. And unlike his past mistakes, he wasn’t going to shut her out.

“Hey,” her voice broke through his thoughts, warm and familiar.

He looked up to her, a soft smile on her face. “Yeah?”

“You zoned out. Everything okay?”

Aaron nodded, his lips curving into a small smile. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

“About what?” she asked, her hand reaching for his across the counter.

He looked down at their hands for a moment, then met her eyes. “About how lucky I am,” he said quietly. “I love you, Y/N.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words. She smiled widely, taken aback by his sudden confession. “I love you too.”

The rest of breakfast passed easily, the conversation light and teasing. As they ate, Aaron seemed to relax, the pain in his shoulder not entirely forgotten but manageable. He allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

After a while, they finished their breakfast, and Y/N stood to clear the dishes, moving around the kitchen effortlessly. Aaron watched her for a moment, he couldn’t fully explain how much she meant to him.

He got up slowly, his hand instinctively reaching for his injured shoulder. "I’ll help with the dishes," he said.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. "No, you sit down and let me handle it."

Aaron chuckled softly, though there was a slight glint of defiance in his eyes. "You know I don’t like just sitting by and watching."

She crossed her arms, tapping her foot in a mock expression of annoyance. "Well, today you will.”

Aaron smiled and gave up as the exhaustion from the earlier excitement finally began to settle in. He leaned against the counter, content to simply watch her, allowing himself to drift back into the easy rhythm of their morning. There was no rush, no need to hurry. For the first time in a while, everything felt right.

Tag: @sweetbearcolorgarden

[gold-onthe-inside]

blind date

who? spencer reid (s8) x blake!reader summary: you finally give into your godmother's insistence on going on a date with her colleague, if only to get her off your back, and find yourself having to break the heart of someone who could have been the love of your life. content warnings: not a happy ending (i warned you, you don't get to yell at me), reader is blake's goddaughter and a therapist. word count: 2.1k

You let out a slow breath before entering the restaurant, smoothing down your dress, still second-guessing your outfit - a purple dress matched with a dark velvet jacket and a black purse with a gold chain belt - as if you hadn’t spent your day looking up what women in their 30s wore on first dates. Not like it matters, you told yourself. You’d get through the date, politely tell the guy that he was great but you weren’t interested, and hopefully be home by 10pm. You turn your gaze to the maitre’d, telling him the table was under Reid’s name.

You had told yourself on the way that you couldn’t hold it against him if he was late — you still remember the coffee meetings your own godmother never turned up to — but it turned out he was earlier than you. Where you showed up to everything ten minutes in advance, he showed up twenty-five minutes.

You saw him first, looking into the silver ware and flattening down his hair and adjusting his tie, clearly nervous, looking up when he heard you thank the maitre’d. Spencer almost stumbled over himself as he stood up to pull your chair out for you and you feel an overwhelming urge to reassure him. “H-Hi,” he said, matching your awkward smile. “You look really nice.”

“Thanks,” you said softly, taking the seat and watching him take his, his hand splayed against his chest to keep his tie back. “You’re taller than I thought you’d be.”

His laugh is nervous, God help him, and he corrects the displaced silverware so they align perfectly before he looked at you again. “I, uh, I get that a lot.”

“Go on a lot of blind dates then?” you asked, sipping the water within reach, and you can see panic flash across his face.

“No! I mean, I’ve-I’ve been on dates before. Just um—” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I meant I get the-the height thing, quite a bit. Not that there’s been a lot—”

“Breathe, Spencer,” you feel compelled to say as his face flushes. You’d meant to tease, not give the man a heart attack.

“Sorry,” he murmured, trying to get a grip on himself. God, how did Derek do this? “Um… Blake, sorry, Alex, told me that you’re a therapist,” he said, focusing on something concrete.

“Uh, yeah,” you answered, not sure how much information you wanted to tell him. Though, to be fair, he was a federal agent. He could have it found out anyway. “I work at a clinic in Georgetown,” you said, folding your hands in front of you and overthinking whether you should be crossing your legs or not. This was usually the point where the guy would ask if you could read his mind, or attempt to educate you on how mental health was a sham and everyone just needs to get some exercise, and that would be your cue to fake an emergency exit. Maybe you’d get home in time to watch some decent TV.

“Is it hard?” he asked, taking a sip of water before he leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest. It was endearing, and surprising.

“It can be,” you answered, leaning in slightly. “Some days you get really, really good sessions, you know? And other days it’s…”

“Hell?” he offered and you let out a small huff.

“Try having a seven year old drawing on furniture with chalk,” you told him, watching him wince.

“I, uh… have a confession,” he said, leaning even closer, his voice a dramatic whisper. “I did that as a kid.”

"Understimulated in class, huh?" you asked, smiling at him a little more.

“A lot,” he admitted. “I learned to read very young, and… well, then everyone wanted me to read, and it wasn’t as fun anymore, you know?”

“Mm,” you say in agreement, but before you continue, the waiter comes, and you both order a glass of wine, and appetizers to split. “So, you must be dealing with a lot worse than pre-pubescent vandalism, right?” you asked, pulling apart the fried mozzarella balls with delicate precision, and you watch him think for a moment.

“I’m just trying to decide if the last case we worked would be preferable to handling a toddler, and I honestly think I’d prefer the serial killer,” he said thoughtfully and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you.

"Yeah, no, I don't blame you," you replied, sipping your wine.

“What about you?” he asked between bites. “Did you know you wanted to be a psychologist from day one?”

"Uh... No, I actually thought I would go into linguistics, like Alex, but somewhere around my first year into undergrad, I realised that psychology was my calling," you said.

“What changed your mind?” he asked, tilting his head to the side and leaning his elbow on the table. You liked the way he gave you his full attention; his eyes hadn’t strayed from you since you’d gotten there.

“Uh, we used to have to do these case studies and we’d do these role plays where everyone had a presenting concern to work with, and I used to get this… high whenever I’d figured the client out. Like that moment where everything just… clicks into place. And I got addicted to it,” you said, your words and love for your job captivating.

“I know exactly what you mean,” he said, his smile widening. “I’m sure Alex’s told you that I have an… impressive memory. The cases we work on-the ones they don’t put in our files on purpose-I remember every single piece of information. It’s like the details don’t leave me. So when we finally catch the unsubs, the-the serial killers…” His voice lowers, leaning further over the table to you and he’s so close, you can almost smell his cologne. “That’s when it clicks.”

You stared at him for a beat, like everything else in the world had gone still, his soft hazel eyes looking affectionately into yours, and then the waiter comes over and the bubble between you two pops, springing apart like two teenagers being walked in on. You can see the flush come over his skin, just as the waiter places his plates in front of him, and focus on ordering your dinner, Spencer agreeing to whatever you ordered.

“So,” you started as the waiter left, and you could see the hint of a smile cross his lips. “Spencer, what do you do for fun?”

He hums a little, thinking. “I read, obviously, and I play poker, although I think half the team suspects I’m counting cards.” He leans forward. “Don't tell them, but I am.”

“You can count cards?” you asked, looking at him in disbelief.

He tilts his head to the side, and he looks like some kind of adorable dog, and your cheeks flush a little darker. “Is it that surprising?” Spencer asks. “I mean, if you know the math, it’s-“ He seems to stumble a little, like he’s worried he’ll bore you with the explanation.

“Keep going,” you prompt him, interested.

“I mean, it’s not foolproof,” he starts, the words flowing quickly from him. “You can’t really predict probability with any certainty. It’s just… really good guessing.” He smiles proudly. “I’m actually banned from a few casinos in Vegas.”

You sipped your wine, shaking your head. "You've gotta teach me how, cause I swear, Alex beats me every time."

“You play poker?” Spencer asked, and you nodded, taking another sip of wine. “Of course, you do,” he added, smiling. “You’re perfect,” he blurted, then started, his face flushing a deep colour.

You could fall in love with this man if you let yourself, and it’s a scary thought. Alex hadn’t been kidding when she said that Spencer was perfect for you. Then why was there this horrible pit in your stomach, like an anvil hovering over you?

The rest of the dinner went perfectly, Spencer pulling out your chair for you as you both prepared to leave. The air was crisp, just a little chilly — spring wasn’t quite ready to fully come out of hiding yet. There was a certain energy between you both; a sense of hope you had long forgotten, and as he walked you to your car, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking up and meeting his eyes.

You'd felt this way before... four years ago when you met the man you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with, and suddenly, the idea of going through that again... It scared the living daylights out of you. "This was really nice," you managed, looking at him.

“It was,” he agreed, his hands shoving into his pockets. “I’d like to see you again.” He said it casually, but his eyes betrayed him, like he was afraid you were going to refuse.

You swallowed, reminding yourself to take a breath. "Spencer, you're... really great. I mean, seriously, any girl would be lucky to go out with you," you said slowly. "But if I'm honest... I only came out tonight to get Alex off my back."

You can see the way it crushes him; the light in his eyes dimming. His shoulders drop and his head lowers, and you feel a wave of guilt overcome you, but your feet stay rooted to the ground.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but you know his words are meant more for his own failings than for you - you can see it in his body language, how he’s withdrawing into himself. What you expect is for him to walk away; instead, he looks back up at you, and you feel your heart break as your eyes meet his pained ones.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," you said softly. "I should never have..." You took a sharp breath. "I like you, Spencer. A lot, probably more than I'm ready for. But I just got out of a long-term relationship. I'm not ready to jump into another one, especially with someone who... who deserves a lot more."

“I-I don’t mind taking things slow,” he said, his voice soft as his eyes searched your face, and you knew he was telling you the truth. But he doesn’t deserve to be some kind of… emotional training wheels for you, as you work through a bad breakup. He deserves more than you’ve got to offer.

"Of course you don't," you said, with a tinge of fondness. "You're perfect."

"I think I'm far from perfect," he says, with a self-deprecating grin. "But I'd be happy to be, um... whatever it is you're ready for."

You don't want to say it, but he's really, really, really hard to say 'No' to, and the fact he was so genuine in wanting to be around you made your heart clench. You wanted to say 'yes' so desperately.

Maybe you should say 'yes'. Just to see what happens.

"It's a bad idea," you said reluctantly, your resolve crumbling.

"But it might be just what you need," Spencer said, and he's right - you hate it but you can feel the way he's pulling you in. The way those hazel eyes hold you; the way you just want to spend more time with him.

A mistake, you think to yourself, just as his hand slides down, his fingers slotting with yours. A glorious mistake.

"I don't want to do that to you," you murmured, even though all you wanted to do was kiss him and take him home and ruin him.

"Please," he murmured, stepping just a little closer, as if you had any resolve left at this point. "I'm a big boy. I can make that decision for myself."

The way he stepped so close to you made your skin tingle, and something deep within you tightened, and you were sure that Spencer could see it in your eyes. Your free hand lifted, sliding along his cheek. "I can't," you said, thumb gliding against his cheekbone. "I'm sorry."

Spencer stepped back, and you watch the way his face falls, your hand falling away to your side, but he nods, and the part of you that wasn't ready for this, was happy you'd made that decision. That he would stay safe and away from you - but then he leaned down, and before you can process what it was, he presses a warm kiss to your cheek. "I had a really nice time, tonight," Spencer murmured, and you can hear the sound of his footsteps leave before you can get your mouth to work again.

"Me too," you murmured into the air, sinking against your car, wondering if you'd just made the biggest mistake of your life, letting him slip through your fingers.

[piccolos-bigtoe]

I’m not really sure,,, how I feel about this to be honest,, but I’m trying new things and that’s what’s important. This isn’t explicitly my sniperscout wildwest thing I surpose but I drew it with that in mind. I have the draft for like the first part halfway thru, all I gotta do is finish it then edit it. I’ll probably post some of my notes here of it sometime.

I fr went so hard on the characterization notes,, I’m proud of myself. I’m gonna draw tomorrow probably and try and do their references and notes and stuffs maybe.

This drawing kind of looks a little sad, I think, but don’t worry scouts not actually sad. The way thag I imagine scout is that he is like, very loud and opinionated on everything, even things he knows nothing about, and is usually pretty ‘honest’ about what he thinks (sometimes the annoying “brutally honest” way where it’s not so much honesty ws it is being an asshole), unless it comes to himself. Like when it comes to himself he’d sort of be a liar, whether it’s how he feels or stuff he’s done because even if he wouldn’t ever admit it he REALLY cares about what people think about him… unconventional emotions get hidden with either smugness or anger, and he boosts his ego with stupid lies about feats he’s pulled. He’s like the kind of guy that talks and jokes a lot as an attempt to hide his feelings woah emo…. 🖤

In contrast Sniper to me would be the type of guy that doesn’t really have a lot to say, but he is truly an honest person about himself and what he feels when he does speak, he’s never been one for socializing so he learned to not really care about how others perceive him to a huge extent. He wears his heart on his sleeve almost but like in a more quiet sort of way. Okay,,, I’m ending my rambling I’m getting really sleepy

I’ve never been a huge opposites attract fan to be honest, but I think the way I set up sniper and scout in my mind works for me.

I’ve been in an art rut lately but I think I am coming out of it, I hope, I took a few days break to like, play video games and read and i think it helped,, I finished my first run of Fallout New Vegas a bit ago (NCR ending), and started a new one. I got a multiple companions mod (the JIP one that adds like, a different interface) and it’s pretty cool. I’m rocking with Boone and Veronica and Arcade and Cass and EDE. I’m debating on who to send to stay back at the lucky 38 cause I feel like I have too many people in my group.. Urgh I like them all though…. Boone is my ride or die fr though.. he stays for sure. Same with EDE.

I played it on very hard + hardcore mode expecting some new game + stuff but all I got was this stupid achievement.. boooo. Whagever it’s okau. I had fun.

[hederasgarden]

Do you have any darker thoughts about your fav ATJ characters?

Bestie, I have so many thoughts, and I’m totally blaming @otaku-girl-ao3 for this. A few weeks ago, we spent an afternoon on Discord brainstorming what the ATJ characters would be like as dark versions of themselves and how that would manifest in distinct and interesting ways.

Just a quick note—this is quite a departure from the usual content on my blog and the type of things I typically write about. Recently, I’ve been gathering the courage to explore some darker themes in my writing (I blame BookTok for introducing me to a lot of questionable tropes). Please be kind and let me know if you’d like to see more of this kind of writing from me!

Characters: Sergei Kravinoff (Kraven the Hunter), Friedrich Harding (Nosferatu), Tangerine (Bullet Train), and Ives (Tenet) Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Dead dove, do not eat. VERY dark, depraved, and horny thoughts direct from me to you. Not all themes are tagged. Read at your own risk.  Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Aaron Taylor Johnson Character Masterlist

Sergei is a meticulous planner, taking his time to observe you and learn your habits. He likely comes across you by chance—perhaps while on the job or visiting his brother. It’s your scent that first grabs his attention, but it’s not what draws him back. It’s the softness and sweetness in your demeanor, the vulnerability you exude, completely unaware of the dangers around you. You’re the easiest prey he’s ever tracked, unaware even of the most basic threats. You’re always buried in a book or your phone, headphones on at full blast. If it weren’t for his quiet intervention, you would have been robbed or worse on your way home at least twice. 

He takes you because he believes you're not meant to be on your own. You need someone to care for you, to protect you from the world that you don’t fully understand. Really, it’s lucky your paths crossed. He’s certain you’ll come to see things his way in time. Until then, he’s turned his home into a beautiful little cage for you to live in, complete with an entire library filled with your favorite books, cozy blankets to keep you warm, and all the ingredients for the meals you love to cook and enjoy. He’s done his research on what you like and he’ll bring you anything you ask for. Afterall, he’s a provider at heart.

There’s no concern of you running away. You've seen the large snow leopard that prowls around outside, and the one time you made a foolish attempt to escape, Sergei was quick to show you that he wouldn't always be so gentle or understanding. As @writercole suggested, once he has you back, he’ll also end up keeping you tethered by the ankle for a while, a lesson that if you try to run, he’ll leash you.

After you recover from that experience Sergei finds you’re a much better pet, settling into your new life and role. You start cooking for him when he's home, and willingly crawl into bed beside him, seeking out his warmth on those cold winter nights. Soon, Sergei knows you’ll be ready for the next step: starting a family of your own.

Friedrich (in a modern AU) strikes me as the type who would quietly manipulate situations to his advantage, working behind the scenes to ensure things unfold just how he wants. He’d spot you working at a cafe or store he frequently visits and, from that moment, start working on a plan to make you his.

Rather than using overt force, he’d rely on subtle pressure and gaslighting, making you doubt yourself and your choices. He’d skillfully set up circumstances to undermine you—ensuring you miss out on a job you desperately need, getting you fired, or putting you in a position where you have no choice but to turn to him. When you're at your lowest, he’ll swoop in as the savior, the one who appears to protect you. His goal is to make you dependent on him alone, carefully ensuring that when the time comes for him to make his move, you're in no position to resist. Consent would be questionable, but he'd remind you every time you hesitated that you said yes, that you asked for his help, and that you invited him in.

I can also see him isolating you from friends and family, slowly pulling you away from the support system you once had. He’d definitely be the type to love-bomb you, showering you with overwhelming attention and affection, using his money and influence to manipulate you further. 

He strikes me as a baby trapper, sabotaging your birth control or tampering with his condoms to ensure you get pregnant. He believes you'd be the perfect wife and mother—you just need his help to realize that. Once he has you, he’d be the most loving and attentive husband, always caring, but beneath that sweetness lies an unshakable belief that he knows what’s best. He’s the one who makes the decisions, subtly guiding everything with quiet confidence until, over time, the balance shifts in his favor and you start looking to him for help with even the easiest things. Despite all of this, Friedrich would likely still view himself as a good person, firmly rejecting any notion that he is abusive or in the wrong.

Tangerine is on the opposite end of the spectrum, much more inclined to use brute force and physical violence to make you understand your place. He has a short temper and struggles with impulse control, especially when you don't follow his demands. There’s no slow build-up with him—he has no time or patience for romance. The moment he sees you on the street, he decides you’re coming home with him, and that’s final. Or maybe Tangerine and Lemon are sent to kill your husband but when Tangerine sees just how sweet you are, completely unaware of who and what your husband really is, he decides to keep you for himself. After all, no one's going to miss you. They’ll assume you died in the house fire with your husband. 

Once he had you he would try and spoil you with a beautiful place to live, fine clothes and decadent food. He’d want you to look and dress a certain way for him. A darker version of him would fit the profile of a classic abuser—lashing out at you in anger, only to later show up with flowers and a hollow apology, turning the blame onto you as if you were the one who provoked it.

“Why do you have to make things so fuckin’ hard, huh?” Tangerine questions, caressing your bruised skin. “I hate when you make me do this to ya luv. You need to listen better.”

He’d definitely be the most terrifying of all the dark versions of the ATJ characters because of his unpredictability. (I do not know why but I have such a strong sense he’d pop you in the mouth/back hand you with those rings on and just….yeah.)

If Ives were to go dark, he’d likely abuse his power and authority in the workplace, targeting someone beneath him—someone who wasn’t military and who he could easily manipulate using his strength and knowledge. Maybe you’re his admin, someone he works closely with, and no one questions the fact that you’re often in his office with the door closed or staying late to finish tasks together. He’d be blunt about his intentions with you, setting clear expectations for how things would unfold. His actions would be predictable—if you were a good girl, you’d be rewarded; if you misbehaved, there would be consequences. Ives would be a steady, unyielding force, confident that, with time, you’d fall into line.

[babydollmarauders]

OHMAMI — QUINN HUGHES

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which Quinn fucks his girlfriend in the backseat of his new car

warnings: NSFW!!, p in v (unprotected), semi-public sex, daddy kink, oral (f receiving), light choking, praise, dirty talk, dom!quinn, lots of use of the pet name “baby”, slight religious reference (?), pls let me know if i’m missing any.

notes: inspired by OHMAMI by Chase Atlantic (feat. Maggie Lindemann). 4.6k words.

IMPORTANT: please look up Ferrari GTC4Lusso T interior if you need a better understanding of the car layout

“you’re sure about this?” i mindlessly wander the office of the luxury dealership, my fingertips running over any surface they can touch.

“why wouldn’t i be?” Quinn peers up at me from his spot in a chair, his iphone in his hands, mid-texting his younger brother.

“i don’t know, Q. it’s just a lot of money is all.” shrugging, i shuffle my feet back over to my boyfriend, where i let my hands rest on his shoulders as i stand behind him.

Quinn lets out a chuckle, pulling one of my hands in his and raising it to his lips to press a gentle kiss against my knuckles.

“i appreciate the financial concern, baby, but i think i’ll be okay.”

i sigh, moving around to sit on his lap. “okay.”

his arm spindles around my waist as he draws me back, my back flat against his chest. my fingers unconsciously draw shapes on his forearm, near the crook of his elbow, as he continues texting Jack about the big purchase he’s about to make.

i eye his phone, watching the blue and gray bubbles pop up back and forth and hoping we’ll be done here soon.

two hours of looking at cars, Quinn asking a multitude of questions to the salesman; half an hour of paperwork, and another half hour of waiting for said salesman to run Quinn’s name through the system, checking his credit score and whatever various other things needed to buy such a high-end car. i’ve been stuck at this dealership for three hours now, unplanned, as Quinn had pulled into the establishment after our spur-of-the-moment 3pm lunch date, claiming he just wanted to take a quick look at a couple of cars.

“Quinny,” i breathe out, letting my head fall backwards on his shoulder while his hand starts mindlessly rubbing up and down my thigh. “how much longer will we have to be here?”

“i don’t know, baby. hopefully not too much longer.” he locks his phone, setting it on his thigh and using his now free hand to caress my cheek, simultaneously turning my head to look into my eyes.

“is my girl tired?” he coos at the sight of my fluttering eyelids, leaning in to brush his lips lightly over mine.

“mhm” i hum, burrowing my face in his neck. his hand moves as i do, now resting on the back of my head, holding it in its position.

it’s at this moment that the salesman decides to make his re-entrance. “alright! everything checks out, looks good!”

i immediately attempt to pry myself from my boyfriend, but he holds me in place, clearly not bothered by the new company.

“i knew it would!” Quinn smiles back at the man, putting on his usual charm.

“now all we need is that down payment and you’ll be driving out of here in your very own Ferrari!” the salesman, i haven’t bothered to learn his name, chimes. “do you have a credit card you can give me?”

“yep,” Quinn taps my butt, signaling for me to lift it so he can grab his wallet from his pocket. i do so and he unpockets his wallet before pulling me back down on his lap. “here you go.”

the man takes Quinn’s card, taking a seat at his desk and punching the information from the card before handing it back.

“alright,” he grabs a few papers from the printer behind him, stapling them together and scribbling in a few places before sliding them towards my boyfriend. “just sign here, and here.”

Quinn leans forward and his left arm tightens around my waist to keep me situated on his lap, taking the pen in his right hand and autographing his signature twice.

“congratulations!” the salesman grins, handing the new keys to Quinn and shaking his hand.

“thanks, man.” Quinn smiles crookedly, rising from the chair and bringing me up with him.

we follow behind the salesman, back out to the Ferrari that Quinn just bought; which is now parked next to Jack’s Range Rover, in which we drove here.

i take Jack’s keys from Quinn with a sigh. knowing i’m now responsible for getting such an expensive car back to the lake house is a frightening task that i didn’t expect to be doing today, but one i’m now stuck with nonetheless.

“i’ll see you back at the house, yeah?” Quinn smiles. his hand grips my waist, pulling my lower half into his as he lowers his lips onto mine in a breathless kiss.

“yeah, wish me luck. if i get even a scratch on this car, Jack will have my head on a stick.” i gnaw at my lower lip in anxiety, but his free hand comes up to my chin, his thumb pulling my lip free from my teeth.

“nah, he loves you too much. he’d have my head on a stick.” he laughs, before lightly nudging me back towards the car.

“that’s even worse!” i tease. “how am i supposed to explain to the Canucks that their star defenseman is dead because i scratched his brothers car?”

“eh, you’re smart,” he winks, rounding the Ferrari. “you’ll think of something.”

we climb into the respective cars, and Quinn is gracious enough to wait while i adjust the seat to my height before he begins leading the way to the lake house.

the drive is smooth, and when we arrive at the house, Quinn opens my door as i return the seat adjustments back to the way Jack had them.

“see?” he grins, leaning over my body to unbuckle my seatbelt for me. “the car is all good.”

“it better be. that car is my baby.” Jack pipes up from behind him, making Quinn roll his eyes. “if anything were to happen-”

“yeah, yeah.” he cuts him off. “if anything were to happen to it, you would’ve killed her.”

i feign a gasp, jokingly smacking his arm.

“you said he would kill you.” i say in mock shock.

Quinn shrugs. “i was trying to calm your nerves.”

i playfully push him away, hopping out of the car to face Jack, who’s now too busy ogling the Ferrari to pay any attention to his own vehicle.

“i’m gonna go see if your mom needs any help with dinner.” i announce, already stepping towards the house. “have fun showing off your new toy, babe!”

i pass by a horde of guys on my way into the house, bumping hips with Cole, who ends up giggling.

“going to see the new thing?” i ask, and Trevor stops dead in his tracks.

“that thing is a 2022 Ferrari GTC4Lusso.” Trevor explains, as if i understand a single thing he’s just said.

“sure. whatever it is, it cost a lot.” i shrug, carrying on into the house. “enjoy.”

i join Ellen in the kitchen, making myself busy by tossing together the salad ingredients she has on the counter.

we make small talk as we cook, letting the men have their fun gawking at the new car, and enjoying the silence that comes with it.

“do you wanna go tell them dinner is ready?” she more so tells me to do, and i fake a pout.

“do i have to? it’s so peaceful. we could easily just slip out back and eat dinner by the lake without them ever even noticing.” i wiggle my eyebrows enticingly and she laughs, shooing me off towards the front door.

“i had to try.” i giggle out, opening the front door to the gaggle of men. “boys! dinner’s ready!”

they all make their way up the porch and i stand idly by, waiting for my own man to enter the house. finally, he appears at the very back of the group, smirking as he wraps an arm around my waist, walking me to the dining room.

“i was thinking after dinner, you and i could go for a drive. just us.” he pecks a kiss to my cheek as we sit at the table, and i nod.

“sure, sounds nice.” his hand rests on my thigh now, partly covered by my sundress, and i squirm a little at his touch on my bare skin.

it’s been at least three weeks since Quinn and i have been able to do anything past PG-13, him not wanting to risk it while his parents are here, and i’m starting to feel restless.

the smallest touches from him have been causing me to get slick with need, and i squeeze my thighs together to provide myself some friction, but it never helps. like now.

i know Quinn has caught on because his grip tightens just the slightest bit, his thumb beginning to stroke my skin.

“you okay, baby?” he’s teasing me, asking his question in such a sweet tone that anyone else at the dinner table would think he’s just checking in on his girlfriend, but he and i know that isn’t the case.

“mhm” i hum, attempting to ignore his touch as i fill my plate and his.

“now y/n, Quinn is a grown man with two hands; he can make his own plate, honey.” Ellen jests, poking a dig at her eldest son.

“acts of service is her love language, ma.” Quinn pokes back before pressing another chaste kiss to my cheek, muttering his thank you as we begin to eat.

the table is filled with a generous amount of chatting as we eat; Jack telling a story about something that happened in Jersey, Luke telling everyone about how Luca Fantilli got his head stuck in stair banisters… twice, Trevor going on a long-winded rant about a missed goal; but Quinn and i are mostly silent. Quinn because he’s just almost been more of the listen rather than talk type, and me because i don’t trust my voice while my boyfriend is currently inching his hand up the bottom of my dress.

someone seems to catch onto my lack of interest though, because Alex eyes me curiously from his spot in front of me, and then chooses to speak up.

“you’re quiet tonight, y/n.” his statement draws the attention of the rest of the group, their eyes gravitating towards me.

“just tired.” i fib, my voice tight as Quinn’s hand slowly slides towards my inner thigh, now just far enough away that if he spreads his fingers, his pinky will graze against my wet panties. “who knew three hours at a car dealership could be so draining.”

Cole laughs, obviously buying my lie, which causes the rest of the table to chuckle.

“oh yeah, honey. buying a car will do that.” Ellen sympathizes. “the long process sucks the life right out of you.”

the chatter carries on around me and i return to my silence. dinner has long since been finished, and Luke proposes making s’mores for dessert, so Quinn takes that as our chance to escape.

“you guys go ahead,” he starts. his warm touch disappears from my skin as he rises from his chair. “y/n and i are gonna go for a drive. i wanna show her why this purchase was worth it.”

he holds his hand out for mine and i falter, looking between Ellen and him.

“i usually help your mom with the dishes.” i remind him, gesturing towards the table full of plates.

“oh don’t worry about it,” Ellen chimes. “Jack can help me.”

“i- what?” Jack sputters, finally looking away from the phone screen he’s been engrossed in for the past few minutes. “what about me? i was checking the Yankees score.”

Quinn rolls his eyes at his younger brother, shaking his head as he grasps my hand, pulling me up from my seat and leading me through the house.

“we’ll be back in a little bit!” he calls out as we exit through the front door.

climbing into the car, i can feel the excitement radiating off of him.

“okay, i know i’m not a car person, but what is a drive in it supposed to show me?” i ask as he starts the engine. his hand gravitates to the back of my headrest as he reverses out of the driveway, his eyes flicking between the backup camera and the back window of the car.

it should be illegal to be this hot while reversing a car.

fuck, y/n. focus.

“you’ll understand once you ride it.”

i scan his body, my eyes lingering in one specific place.

i can think of something i’d like to ride.

shit, y/n. think with your brain, not your hormones.

“okay.” i drag out, leaning back in the seat and relaxing as he drives down the street.

the car is quiet besides the soft hum of the radio, tuned into a random pop hits station that i know Quinn turned on just for me.

his left hand sits on the steering wheel, while his right reaches over to lay upon my thigh, causing my thoughts to run wild. fantasies and memories of us tangled in the sheets, his hand on my throat as he hovers above me, or better yet; his hand in between my legs, his fingers working me toward my orgasm.

i can feel my skin get red and hot, as i imagine all the ways i would be with him if we weren’t stuck in a house full of people.

… but we’re not there now.

Quinn exits onto the highway, the car speeding up as he does so, and i glance toward the back seat.

it’s small, but we could make it work.

my hand snakes up to sit on top of his and his eyes flicker towards me, a soft smile resting on his lips at the sweet gesture. and i let him believe that for a few minutes before i’m pulling his hand up my thigh, closer towards my soaking core.

“baby-” he breathes out, his words failing him when he finally feels how wet i am.

“we’re all alone.” i state, my head lolling back against the seat as his fingers start stroking me through my panties like they have a mind of their own.

“baby, i’m driving.” his voice is strained, a vein popping out on his neck as he clenches his jaw.

my hand leaves his, instead reaching over to palm him through his jeans, in which his left hand leaves the wheel to lightly swat mine away.

“i can’t drive if you do that.”

i huff but it blends into a moan as his thumb begins to circle my clit.

“so, pull over.” i suggest, ready for something more.

he’s hesitant, i can tell, so i pull out the secret weapon.

“please, daddy.” i whimper, reaching over to palm his now hard cock once more.

“fuck.” he curses, switching lanes to get off on the next exit.

he quickly finds a mostly abandoned lookout, only one other car parked on the other side of the lot, and switches into park.

his eyes are cloudy with need as he turns to look at me, his fingers still working themselves on my bundle of nerves. my breaths come out in heavy pants that mingle with moans.

“faster.” i plead, but rather than obeying my lust-hazed command, he pulls his hand away completely. i mewl at the loss of touch, but his hand winds up to the base of my neck, his grasp just light enough to remind me who’s in charge, but not tight enough to do any harm to my air supply.

“you don’t call the shots here, darling.” he whispers before pulling me by his grip into a bruising kiss.

his tongue brushes against mine and his teeth bite down on my lower lip, making me whimper. when he pulls away, i can just barely make out his features within the darkness of the Ferrari.

“get in the back.” he orders and i scramble to unbuckle my seatbelt, climbing over the center console and into the divided backseat.

rather than joining me by climbing back, Quinn exits the car, rounding the front and opening the passenger side door. he pulls the passenger seat forward, climbing in on his knees and shutting the door, the seat still pulled as far forward as it’ll go.

his arms hook around my legs, pulling me forward so that i’m slumped in the seat, my ass sitting on the edge. he looks up at me with dark eyes, placing my legs over his shoulders as he leans forward.

his hands glide up my legs, bunching my sundress up to my waist. his tongue licks a stripe over my clothed cunt and i shudder, my left hand attempting to grip at the leather of the backseat center console, as my right finds itself tangled in his hair.

he pulls away, despite my attempts to hold him in place, and his fingertips play with the waistband of my lacy yellow panties.

“beg me.” he insists, teasing me by hooking his fingers in the sides of my underwear, but not making any further moves.

“please, Quinn.” i plead, and he pulls one side away from my skin then lets it snap back into place, causing me to jolt.

“uh-uh.” he shakes his head, backing away just slightly.

“please, daddy, please.” i cry out, attempting to pull him in again. “i’ll be good, i promise.”

“yeah?” Quinn taunts, slowly pulling my panties down my legs as i lift myself just barely from the seat. he knocks my legs from his shoulders, pulling the under garment off and throwing it in the front seat.

“mhm.” i nod my head wildly, my brows raising as i do so. “i’ll be so good. just please, please, do something.”

Quinn wastes no more time, pushing one of my legs up to hook over the backseat center console as the other hooks over his shoulder. he dives down, licking up my heat like a man starved.

his tongue circles my clit and my head drops back, but he provides a swift smack to my thigh to remind me to look at him. one of his rules.

i bite my lip to try and muffle my cries of pleasure, his hand rising to pull the top of my dress down just enough for my breasts to pop out. he grips one, harshly squeezing before he pinches at my nipple.

my jaw drops open, a breathy moan escaping my lips as my back attempts to arch in the small space.

“fuck!” i cry out, tugging at his hair. “yes, daddy!”

he shifts between sucking on clit to licking in my cunt, fucking me with his tongue. my hips stutter and he holds my leg open as it tries to unhook itself from the console in order to close on his head.

i tug again at his hair, pushing his head further into me, and he moans, the vibrations flowing straight into my core. i cry out again, the familiar knot in my stomach slowly building the longer he continues.

“please!” i whine. “please, make me come!”

Quinn’s dips down to show more love to my pussy, and his nose brushes against my clit, my hips immediately beginning to grind against him. my legs begin to shake and i can feel myself getting closer and closer to release.

“right there! don’t stop!”

i’m sure anyone outside the car can probably hear my screams, but it doesn’t deter me. too busy chasing my high to care what anyone else may think.

of course, Quinn doesn’t listen, knowing my body well enough to know exactly what will set me off. his lips close around my clit, sucking and flicking his tongue, and it only takes a few moments for me to reach the edge.

“i’m gonna come! fuck, i’m gonna come!” i warn him but he only pushes deeper, flicking his tongue faster against the button of nerves, and i let out a guttural moan as i finally let go, coming on his face. he laps at my release, riding me through my orgasm, only stopping once i begin to twitch at the feeling.

“now you see why i won’t do anything at the house?” he teases, smirking as he wipes at the juices on his chin with the back of his hoodie sleeve. “you’re so vocal. i love it, but i don’t want anyone else hearing your sounds. they’re just for me.”

my hand hook around the nape of his neck and i pull him up to my face, pressing my lips against his. he moans into the kiss and i can taste myself on his lips; slightly sweet, slightly salty, and it turns me on; pushing me towards another round.

i release him from my grasp, lightly shooing him backwards and fiddling with the button on his pants.

“i want you to fuck me.” i breathe out, pulling his zipper down.

“oh yeah?” his smirk grows, clearly not expecting any more than we just did.

“yes, please.” i nod, pulling his pants down, his erection popping free and slapping against his clothed torso. “please fuck me, daddy.”

i maneuver myself onto my knees, slowly bending myself over the center console, allowing my right leg to straighten some, my foot dropping down to the floor of the car as the other leg stays bent on the backseat; allowing him a full view of my glistening pussy.

“since you asked so nicely, baby.” Quinn joins me on the seat, knelt behind me at a slightly awkward angle as he pulls his pants down some more.

i bite back a giddy smile, waiting impatiently for him to fill me up, and i’m not disappointed when i look back to find him grasping his cock. he runs it through my folds a few times, lubing himself up with my release, and i arch my back to better accommodate him.

my eyes roll back, a moan bubbling up my throat as he pushes his tip into my entrance, thrusting in just slightly before pulling back and repeating.

“daddy, please.” i whine, still frustratingly horny and awaiting his full size.

it doesn’t take any more begging than that, Quinn suddenly bottoming out inside me.

“fuck, baby, you feel so good.” he groans, but i’m too busy choking out my own cries to reply.

he begins thrusting slowly, and i nearly let out a sob of relief at the feeling.

“whadd’ya think?” he asks, his voice strained as he thrusts into me, fucking my hips into the leather of the center console. “how does my cock feel, fucking your greedy little pussy?”

“so good!” i exclaim, pushing back against him. my eyes squeeze shut as his hand wraps around my throat, the other gripping my hip. “feels so good!”

“love watching your ass bounce off me as i fuck you like this.” he groans and his dirty talk succeeds in making me clench around him, causing him to moan.

i peek back to find his head thrown back, his jaw slack and his eyes firmly shut for a moment before he looks back down, making eye contact with me.

he leans forward, his front pressing against my back as he kisses my lips, nipping at my lips before he pulls back and continues fucking into me at a faster rhythm.

my head drops forward, my hair curtaining my face, and i let out a cry of pleasure as he begins rubbing my clit.

my back arches again, and i whimper when his hand leaves my throat in order to smooth down my spine, pushing my back down further.

“taking me so well.” he praises, thrusting harder than before, and i can feel the knot that had just come undone, tangling back together. “such a good girl for me.”

”only for you, daddy.” he continues his assault on my clit and the sensation mixed with the fullness of him pushing into me makes my legs begin to shake once more.

i can feel his dick pulsating, and his strokes become sloppier, assuring me that he’s close. i clench around him, my eyes rolling back and stars dancing in my vision.

“oh god, i’m coming!” i announce.

Quinn grips my hip tight, “god isn’t in this car, baby.”

my hips begin to falter in their movements, my body locking up and my breath catching in my throat as i come for the second time tonight.

my orgasm spurs on his; his hips stuttering and his breathing falling heavy, a grunt escaping his lips as he finishes inside of me.

his thrusts stop, the car falling silent except our heavy pants as we catch our breath. the windows are fogged, the scent of sex lingering around us.

Quinn pulls out of me and i slump against the center console, listening to him pull his pants back up. he pulls my sundress back down to cover my ass before he sits, gripping my hips and pulling me back and onto his lap, my back now pressed against the side of the car.

my head lolls sideways onto his shoulder, my eyes closed, and he chuckles, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. caressing my cheek, he pecks a soft kiss onto my nose and the corners of my lips twitch up in a smile.

“worth the wait?” he questions and my eyelids flutter open. i nod, craning my neck to kiss his cheek, and he smiles.

“my girl needs some sleep, huh?” he asks, and i nod again, but make no moves to get up. “let’s get you home.”

my limbs feel like jello as i climb out of the car, letting him out before i push the passenger seat back and sit back down, buckling up. Quinn rounds the car, climbing into the drivers side and starting the engine once more.

but before beginning to drive, he reaches down and pulls my panties out from under his thigh. laughing, he hands them back to me, and i giggle as i pull them back on.

the ride home is mostly quiet, my head resting against the cool glass window and our hands laced together, with his right one back in its place on the steering wheel.

“well,” i start as we pull into the driveway, my voice hoarse from my earlier cries. “we christened the car.”

Quinn lets out a hearty laugh, letting go of my hand to put the car in park and turn off the engine.

he jumps out of the car as i unbuckle, making his way around to my door and letting me out.

“what do you think the odds are that they’ll be asleep?” he grins as i pretend to ponder his question.

“your parents? one hundred percent. everyone else? maybe twenty percent.” i joke and he shrugs.

“i’ll take those odds.” we make our way up the porch and he unlocks the door, attempting to stay quiet in order to sneak past any stray boys still in the open space of the house.

but luck is officially not on our side as we open the front door to the living room full of his brothers and their friends on the couch playing video games.

Quinn quietly curses as heads turn to look at us, and Trevor is the first to put together our long drive and our disheveled appearances. he busts out in laughter, pointing between my boyfriend and i.

“oh you guys fucked.” he cackles, wheezing in amusement.

Jack and Luke’s noses scrunch for a moment before they too join in on the laughter, but luckily Alex and Cole just shake their heads at their friends.

“you guys are so immature.” Quinn scoffs, lacing his hand in mine as we head toward the stairs, up to our bedroom.

“in the new car, guys? seriously?” Jack calls out, and his older brother rolls his eyes, continuing up the stairs.

“goodnight!”