#brown shag rug

[thedreamsareripped]

Living Room Enclosed

Example of a mid-sized classic formal and enclosed dark wood floor and black floor living room design with a stone fireplace, gray walls, a ribbon fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[fleurducap]

Miami Master Bedroom An illustration of a large, modern master bedroom with a beige floor and gray walls that lacks a fireplace.

[vintagehomecollection]

Better Homes and Gardens: Stretching Living Space, 1983

[renietan]

Atlanta Contemporary Living Room

An illustration of a mid-sized, modern, formal living room with beige walls, a fireplace but no television and a dark wood floor.

[djofficialreach]

Enclosed Family Room Atlanta Inspiration for a small modern enclosed medium tone wood floor family room remodel with a standard fireplace, a tile fireplace, a wall-mounted tv and gray walls

[rowbutt]

Dining Room in Salt Lake City Ideas for a medium-sized, rustic-style great room renovation without a fireplace and beige walls

[chasing-after-memories]

Farmhouse Living Room in Detroit Mid-sized cottage open concept living room design with formal dark wood floor and brown floor, gray walls, a wood stove, a brick fireplace, and no television.

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Four

TW: NSFW, inappropriate use of handcuffs, angst

Tom picks you up from your shift, and you ride in silence. The uncomfortable, we need to talk, prickly silence that has your bones feeling weirdly placed and your teeth achy with unsaid words. His mouth and your mouth combined? Quiet between the two? Strange. You both know something’s up. Maybe even more than one something. 

When you get into your place, he goes to use the restroom, and you meander around cleaning a little bit—putting some dishes away and rearranging your coat rack and making sure your recently neglected plants aren’t dying dry deaths. 

“Sorry, guys,” you whisper, filling them up and eyeing the leaves for any browning spots, spraying the orchids’ tangled roots with water and a little plant food. You pause at the dark purple orchid from Julian, realizing there’s still a smear of your dried blood on the pot. Roses love to eat blood and bone. You’re not so sure about orchids. It’s hard not to think of Julian, when you look at the beautiful plant, but you can’t quite bring yourself to get rid of it yet. It’s not the orchid’s fault, after all.  

“You just keep getting cuter,” Tom says, smirking from the kitchen doorway. 

“They’re living things,” you reply, sticking your tongue out. 

“You know, I worked a case once where a lady had a lot of plants.”

You shoot him a raised brow. “Was she poisoning someone with one?”

He chuckles and shakes his head, that fast growing, uncut dark shag probably due for a haircut soon. Shame, you kinda like it a little longer. “See, it just makes me even more suspicious that you know that.” 

“Am I a suspect now, Officer Ludlow?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Easy, Poison Ivy, don’t make me get the cuffs.” 

“Poison Ivy, really?” 

He shrugs. “What? She’s hot. You’re hot. You both love plants. Got that fiery temper.” Wink.

“And you’re what, Batman?” You crinkle your nose at the comparison. Bruce Wayne ain’t got nothin on Tom Ludlow. Plus, you were never a big fan. Now, Punisher, he’s someone you can admire.

“No. I’m a side character. Poison Ivy’s boyfriend.” 

Do not engage. Do not interact. Do not make eye contact. Did he just call himself… You haven’t had a boyfriend in what, years? Tom Ludlow? Boyfriend? Dating? Your brain might be short circuiting, a rattling tool box of metal getting zapped with a cattle prod, and you stand there, frozen, looking dumb for a good minute until you can compartmentalize and rationalize. 

Tom Ludlow hasn’t really left since that first night you invited him in. His clothes are in your dirty laundry, his shoes are sitting next to yours on the entryway rug, making your sneakers look like kids shoes in comparison, his amazing smell is on everything, his indent is on your bed. He’s just settled himself right in here, and you didn’t even notice. 

“What’s a throw down?” You ask, stupidly, suddenly, not sure why you pick that moment to inquire about this. 

To your credit, it does take him off guard and make him forget about the whole boyfriend thing… For now. “It’s a gun dirty cops carry. Something to throw away in case they shoot someone...unlawfully.”

“Is that…what you have on your ankle?” 

His frown is like a thunderhead, and he probably would have started yelling, if not for how tiny your voice sounded, and the big-eyed bunny look on your face. “No, baby. That’s my backup. In case I lose my other gun. Which, I have. Why are you asking me this?” 

Oh fuck, this was a bad, bad decision. Maybe you should mention the dating conversation again? You turn to face him, trying to seem less suspicious and probably just ranking yourself even higher on his list of suspects. “Brixton, that guy that interviewed me, said you fired it in the store.” 

Nice save—never mind, looks like you’ve personally signed Brixton’s death certificate yourself. You jump in to appease that hostile look curtaining over his face. “It's just..I feel like there’s something up, Tom. Something you’re not telling me?”

You’re such a hypocrite. 

“What does that have to do with my backup?” He asks, great fucking detective that he is, and you’re caught like a rabbit in a metal fox trap, ready to gnaw off its own leg just to get free. And maybe, judging by that suspicious look on his face, you should start digging in sooner rather than later.

“I don’t know, Tom.” You throw your hands in the air, maybe a little too dramatically. “I’m just trying to piece this whole thing together, y'know? And if you’re not telling me anything, how can I do that? I saw his face—the man who attempted to murder a cop in cold blood—and I’m scared.” None of that was particularly a lie, but you still feel bad for freaking out on him. 

You feel even worse, when his standoffish attitude melts immediately for you. “Shit. I’m sorry, baby, come here,” he says, holding out his arms to you. 

Once upon a time, with anyone else, you would be an ornery shit and refuse the respective olive branch. But with Tom…you melt too, and before you know it you’ve crossed the tiny kitchen to fill his arms. 

“You’ve taken this whole thing like such a champ, I fucking forget you’re not used to getting shot at,” he says to the top of your head. “M’sorry, baby. I’m working on figuring this all out. I promise you. I’ve got some leads. I gotta find a guy…” He shuts himself up out of habit, not used to sharing details of an ongoing investigation with a civilian. But then he seems to think better of it, considering you’re right in the fucking middle of it too. “I gotta find this guy who might know the shooters. I’m waiting on a call. Got a lead through an inmate in County.”

“Why would an inmate help you?” you mumble into the solid plane of his chest. 

“Because I put him there, and he’s not gettin’ out unless he gets me that name.”

You blink at that, craning your neck to look up at him. “Is that legal?” 

He looks down at you with that Come on look that makes you feel more than a little foolish. 

“Oh.”

You feel the rumble of his amusement from deep in his chest, more than hear it. 

“Is that…always how you really get things done?” you ask, at risk of being made to feel even dumber. “Like, are the official channels really that useless?”

“Pretty much, sweetheart. Learned it the hard way a long time ago. Too many bureaucrats in the LAPD. Not enough people actually willing to get the job done.”

With a long sigh you nod, utterly reluctant to vacate the depression between his pecs. You’re pretty sure it was made just for your head. 

You guess you're about to embark on some back channels of your own to keep him out of trouble. The thought of what Julian might have in store for you makes a shudder of revilement run through you. Tom cranes back to study you, those hawkish eyes narrowed. He knows something’s up. He’s too smart, and you can’t fathom how you’re going to trick him, even if it is for his own good.

You suppose your best bet is distracting him–so you stand on tip toe, and press your lips to his. 

***

He just will not drop it.

He drives you absolutely wild. To the edge of your sanity. To the brink of death. 

This man’s tongue should be considered a lethal weapon. It’s an absolute menace. 

It’s the best thing you’ve ever felt, yet you can’t help but think to yourself, this is how you die.

“Tom…” you beg. “It’s too much!”

You would have even tried to get up, to get away, to flee, you’re that desperate, but he’s been holding you down with those big beautiful hands, and you are just a quivering mess of a woman at his mercy. Plus, he’s got you cuffed to the post of your bed.

“You can cum anytime you want, sweet girl,” he tells you. “You know what I want to hear.”

“This is…interrogation…under duress.”

“Oooo, someone’s been studying up.”

“Hey, I know…stuff.”

He’s changed tactics, making slow, soft circles with his tongue, just shy of where you need him most. The keening whine it tears from your hoarse throat makes him chuckle against you; a deep, bone-melting sound that you think Satan could take some notes from. 

“You know what I want to hear.”

I’m yours.

“Torturing me into saying it won’t make it true.”

“I already know it’s true, sweetheart. Just want to hear you say it.”

You whimper, your head thrown back into the pillows. So keyed up yet exhausted, too stubborn for your own good. You sense Tom looking up at you, his cheek resting on the soft pillow of your inner thigh. 

“Scare you that much, baby?”

You have to try twice before you can find your voice, suddenly feeling like you downed a fat gulp of Mojave sand. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.”

“Now?”

“No time like the present.”

He climbs your body, and you are relieved until he sheathes himself inside you, just like that, like this is the place where he belongs. You desperately try to grind against him, knowing you are so close to the edge, but he just pins you with his thick cock kissing your cervix and his elbows on either side of you. 

He kisses your forehead, and its all so tender you could cry.

“You know you’re safe with me?”

“I know.” You mean it, too, even if you sound pitiful.

He sweeps your hair from your face with gentle fingers, looking down at you with a little smile that wrecks your heart. It simply was not fair.

“Then tell me what’s going on.” You’re not sure if he means your neuroses in general, or your earlier almost-slip, or…who knows? Discussing any and all of it aloud terrifies you. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. Finally, you just frown, and fall back on your favorite word of all time.

“No.”

Miraculously, he doesn’t get mad, like every other man you’ve ever known would have. He just seems to think you’re cute. “You know what?” He muses, tracing your collarbones and making you shiver, “I think,” he follows the dip of your skin, down between your breasts, then under, slow and soft, over your rib cage as you make little strangled gasps, attempting unsuccessfully to writhe—get him frustrated enough to move. “I think you like it when I tease all your worries away.” 

Why does that infuriate you even more? “This isn’t teasing.” Your whining delights him and humiliates you. “This is tortu-ah.” 

He has your pert right nipple tugged between two fingers, rolling the sensitive flesh against rough calluses. The sensation swells into your pussy, and she clenches, exacting her own form of vengeance on Tom, for once on the same side as you—the cum or die side. 

A breath of air hisses from between his teeth, and you grin up at him in triumph. Sure, you’re the one handcuffed to the bed being edged out of your mind, but you know underneath all that cool, collected facade this affects him just as much as it does you. 

“You haven’t seen torture yet.” He says, his smile turning malicious.

“What?” You pant. “Can’t help it that my pussy loves your cock so much, baby.”

He turns peach again, skin absolutely betraying his attitude, and you let loose a sharp giggle that turns to a groaning snarl when he pumps inside of you, slow, not enough. The rhythm he adopts after a minute or two of equally frustrating practice is made for your destruction; more frustrating than just holding him inside, unmoving. 

That languid squelching rub, the slow strokes that make your cunt flood and fatten with plentiful cum, yield to and accommodate its bulky visitor like a good little host should—all of it gets both of you gnashing your teeth and growling like beasts.

In this feral, viscous slide of your bodies, Tom takes your mouth instead of talking, teeth and tongue and spit. None of it would be pretty from an onlooker's perspective, you think, as he swallows the bottom of your face into his big jaws, but fuck, it’s just what you need from him while he works your cunt to a slow, brutal end. 

La petite mort, your brain thinks, surfacing from the sluggish black haze for a moment before you lose it entirely again to a violent, slow orgasm on just his cock. You barely feel the scratchy tickle of his stubble as he buries his face into your neck, biting and licking at your collar, and ending right along with you. 

“Trickster,” he mumbles, hips twitching in finality, length already softening and settling inside you. 

“Who me?” You giggle. 

“Minx,” he growls. 

“Never,” you tease. 

“One of these days I’m gonna get you to say it baby. Might as well just get it over with.” 

“Say what?” You ask, now just trying to piss him off. 

He nibbles the skin of your neck, and you giggle-flinch away. 

“I have to tickle you?” He asks. 

“Swear to God, Tom, I will kill you.” Then, you pout. “These cuffs are kinda uncomfy.” 

He sighs and unlocks you from your metal, cold bondage, then rubs the blood and warmth back into your wrists. “Can I ask you something?” 

You flick your head at him, curious, and push the sweaty hair from his forehead. “Yeah, of course.”

“Will you take a little vacation with me? After I’m done with this case? I’d like to take you somewhere. Just us. Anywhere you want. Beach, mountains. I know we’re already right next to the beach, but maybe one with calmer water? They have some nice little bungalows in Florida.” He’s cute, when he’s all rambling and shy and flustered. 

You lean up to kiss him, halting his nerves. “Yeah, I will.” 

“Really?” He asks, grin big and goofy and only missing a long tongue hanging from the side. 

He makes you laugh. The dichotomy of this man. God, you want to eat him. “Yeah. I have unused vacation time anyway. As long as you promise not to secretly be a serial killer.” 

He snorts, probably thinking of the same image that you are: Bull-in-a-china-shop, brutish, forceful, loud Tom trying to be sneaky and malicious in any capacity? It’s just not believable. What you see is what you get with this long, bronze man currently walking butt ass naked to the bathroom and retrieving a damp, warm towel for you to clean up with. 

***

“So, where do you wanna go?” He asks, once you're settled in his arms with the blanket wrapping you up. You think it’s just way too adorable, how he fusses over you. Pushes your hair back from your face, makes sure you’re adjusted and comfortable, makes sure your toes are covered, kisses your forehead. 

“I’ve never been to the mountains,” you suggest, nuzzling your face into his chest and inhaling, trying to memorize him—this moment. 

“Mountains it is,” he grins. “We’ll go hiking.” 

“Do you think we’ll see woodland critters?” You ask hopefully. 

“Don’t worry,” he soothes, “I’ll protect you.”

You laugh into his skin. “Tom, I want to see them. I’m not scared.” 

“What about, I dunno, bears?” 

“Bears are cute.” 

He gives you an incredulous look, as if you’ve really caught him off guard with that one. “You’re something else.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

“Am I gonna have to hold you back from trying to pet a 700 pound grizzly?” He asks, fingers playing with your shoulder blades. 

You pretend to think about it. “No, but maybe a raccoon….?” 

“Oh my god, go to bed,” he chuckles. “I’m rethinking the mountains.” 

“Oh c’mon!” 

It takes a good hour for you both to get tired enough to fall asleep. The witty banter keeps you awake, like you’re at a teenage slumber party with your best friend. It’s you that drifts off first, because if you don’t get your nine hours you emulate Grumpy from Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. 

[xxcocothekillerxx]

Behind Locked Doors

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x FemReader

Summary: Y/N recently moved into a somewhat small town, Newt, In Texas with her father. Y/N's father thought this would be a good opportunity for them, since things got rough back in California. Little do they know the trouble that awaited them..

!THIS CHAPTER DOESN'T CONTAIN NSFW!

Warning: This series will contain 18+ content & material! NSFW situations and possibly TRIGGERING topics such as- Depression, stalking, blood & gore, manipulation, mention of kidnapping and small amounts of self-harm, such as scars/cuts.

{{ Please proceed with care if you're sensitive to ANY of these topics }}

Author's Note: This is my first time really writing NSFW stories / stories in general. Tips and tricks on how to improve my writing and overall layout are welcome, though keep it respectful please. Other than that please enjoy! 💋

💋Chapter 1: A new town💋

It's been over a week now since you and your father have moved to this small town. The feeling of warm, hot and heavy, air and slight stench of garbage filled your nose as you were cleaning and fixing up your room.

The house you and your father picked was interesting, to say the least. Its dull, gray and moldy wallpaper lined most of the walls around the house. Holes and cracks littered the corners of the old building, the windows barely holding up against the breeze that hit them from the outside. The rusty door knobs, simply waiting to give a poor unexpecting victim a staph infection, and the doors themselves are ready to fall off their hinges.

Although your father had fixed up the downstairs area pretty well, painting the walls in a faded out, pastel yellow. Re-painting the door to their original bright white, and fixing up the hinges so they wouldn't fall off. He also bought new kitchenWare, the stove and fridge were nearly brand new and he insisted they were 'fresh out of the factory'. A beautiful dark brown wood table, with matching chairs, sat in between the kitchen and the living room. A pot of lavender and pink poppies in a little white vase, with a sage green cloth underneath it, laid in the middle of the table. Family pictures hanging on parts of the walls, leading over to the living room where a shag carpet and old leather couch sat with those old style TVs.

Your room had (color) wallpaper, with old CDs and photos hung on the walls. You had a nice window and strung a spider plant about it, pinning some of its vines to the side with some books and some toys sitting on the window sill. Your bed was a decent size, enough to hold two people comfortably, and had soft and cozy (color) sheets. The wooden floor was covered with a shag rug, and large plants sat by your doorway and against your bookshelf. You were just finishing up cleaning up and lighting a candle when your father knocked on your door, slightly catching you off guard because you had music playing on your old radio, you quickly turned your music off and opened the bedroom door.

Your father stood there, he slightly adjusted his almost cartoonishly large glasses and then gave a gentle smile. "Hey sweetie.. sorry I don't mean to bother ya' , I just wanted to know if you wanted to come shopping with me real quick?" He joyfully explained, his goofy smile nearly going ear to ear as he looked at you.

"Uh…sure why not" a small smile appears on your face and you gently put down your headphones onto your desk, brushing your (color), hair back behind your ears. You really haven't been out much this week, and it could do you some good to get out for awhile. Your father gives an almost triumphant look as he quickly turns to walk down the hallway, his footsteps getting quieter as he gets further away.

You walked over to your dresser picking out a simple outfit, a teal color tie dye T-shirt, tied at the waist to give a crop top feel and bell-bottom jeans with little colorful flowers near the bottom of the legs and on the back pockets. You then put your white shoes on and headed downstairs to meet up with your father, grabbing some hair ties on the way out and putting them on your wrist before shutting the door behind you. Your father was waiting at the table while looking at a newspaper, his large glasses slightly tilted downwards as he read. His gaze lifted as he heard your footsteps, a gentle and warm smile appearing on his face as he got up from the table.

"Ready?" He says, keys in hand as he tilts his head slightly towards the door. You nod in response, walking towards the door as your father opened it for you. Walking down the steps of the porch, a warm and comforting breeze hits your face. The fresh air quickly running up your nose, a sense of relief from being so cooped up all week makes you feel good and refreshed. The bright blue sky and the sun, only covered lightly with scattered puffy clouds and chirping birds. You take in your surroundings for a brief moment. The sounds of the wind and birds filling your ears as your father walks past you towards the car, his bright striped shirt regaining your attention as you walk to catch up to him, making your way to the passenger side door and opening it. Your father started up the old, Cherry red, 1973 Pontiac Astre. The engine rumbles to life as your father rolls his window down to place his arm on the door, he adjusts the radio to his favorite channel and some new station comes on.

A man starts to speak through the light static “The search continues in Muerto County for a missing University of Texas student. The Sheriff’s department says that Maria Flores, a native of Uvalde, was last seen near the town of Newt more than two months ago. Her vehicle was recently discovered abandoned along Country Road 172, with officials reporting no signs of foul play. Authorities are hopeful that the expanded search into the nearby communities of Harlow and Chinatown will unearth new leads. Family and friends are urging anyone with information regarding her disappearance to please come forward.” The man then proceeded to introduce the forecast of the week and then quickly cut to a popular music station playing 'Can't get enough - Bad company'. You and your father give a concerned glance towards each other before your father starts to drive out onto the road. The wind blowing through your hair, the comforting breeze making you close your eyes and enjoy the ride. Aside from a few random roadkill on the road, the music played loudly in your ears as you slightly danced to yourself as your father jammed to the song and you enjoyed the car ride into town.

Soon you and your father enter the town. Your eyes couldn't help but look around, an old gas station and mechanic shop sat on the right side with some small buildings and stores littered behind them, a few apartment buildings and roller rink sat on the left side with a large school and church sat behind them. You took in the view, not many people were walking around except for a group of teenagers and some adults, some with their little ones, you then noticed the missing person posters scattered on the telephone poles. 'Must be that poor girl from the news station they mentioned' you thought, a sense of sadness slightly washed over you as you felt bad for her family and friends. Your eyes soon wandered over to an older gentleman, he was smiling as a few older lady's. He wore a yellow button up with a blue and red plaid coat, a yellow hat covered his brown hair that clearly was receding and was graying. He had a cane in his hand that he was slightly leaning against as he was, somewhat in a creepy way, talking to the two old ladies. His smile reminds you of a beaver as he talks, however you notice his gaze quickly rising to your car as you drive by, his smile quickly disappears as his locked eyes with you. You quickly felt yourself look away and down at your lap, you felt embarrassed for staring and quickly looked over to your father who was simply paying attention to the road while trying to find a parking spot.

As your father parked the car, he looked over and noticed your uneasiness. "Y/N? You alright?.." he opened the card or on his side, yet waited for your response and sat there. "Y-yea.. sorry" you chuckled, trying to push off the fact you stared at a random old man and got creeped out. Your father nodded and got out of the car, quickly meeting you on the other side as you got out yourself. "Well, I need to grab a few things from the general store and then the post office. Why don'tcha you go take a good look around town… I might be while so." Your father explained, and a big smile on his face and he gently patted your shoulder. You simply nodded as your father walked away to the general store, your eyes quickly wandered over to a clothing store and its bright luring colors. You started to walk down the sidewalk, humming to yourself when you take notice of the same old man you saw before, now sitting on a bench reading a newspaper, except you can't help but notice him side eyeing you from behind the newspaper. You felt a knot in your throat as you started to get close to him, he was sitting next to the store you wanted to go in. You have no clue why he was giving you the creeps, however you swallow your fear and give a warm smile towards the old man.

This seemed to slightly catch him off guard however and nearly made him shove his face into the newspaper, starting to grumble things underneath his breath.

"H-hello sir!" You slightly felt your heart race as the man raised an eyebrow and slowly looked towards you, his dark eyes giving a questionable look as if he was wondering why you're trying to talk to him. However he quickly snaps a smile at you and puts his newspaper down on the bench as he reaches his hand out for a shake. "Nice to meetcha lil' lady.. new around here?" His voice semi cracked as he spoke, you could hear a slight lisp too. "Yes I am.. My name is Y/N!, my father is also here with me.. he's just grabbing a few things" you nervously stated, you quickly shake his hand before politely cupping them together in front of you. The old man nodded as if he understood and or cared before standing up and giving that creepy beaver smile towards you. "Names Drayton, Drayton Sawyer.. My family lives in this town. Though most em ain't the social type…except that boy Johnny." He gave an annoyed look as he rambled, quickly stopping before giving an almost serious look towards you. "Welcome to the town.." he said, his eyes almost dark as he spoke. He then tipped his hat before walking away, you watched as he almost waddled away and then disappeared behind some buildings.

You calmed yourself down slightly before walking into the clothing store, a nice old lady behind the counter gave you a warm and welcoming smile. "Hello dear! Welcome.." she said, her gray hair in a bun behind her head, her sun kissed skin covered with wrinkles. She wore a pretty blue blouse with a blue floral skirt that hit her ankles and her dark blue flats, she adjusted her glasses to better see you as you walked in. You nodded as you looked around the shop at all the cute and somewhat old fashioned clothes, soon you hear three girls walk into the store. A red head wearing a pink plaid button that was tied up slightly above the waist and jean shorts, a dark Brunette with tanner skin wearing and baby blue blouse with a white floral pattern on the chest and tan bell-bottoms, and a dark Brunette wearing a red tank-top with a deep v-neck and yellow sunflower on it and blue jean bell-bottoms. The girls were talking and somewhat giggling to themselves as they walked around the store, although they looked like they were also seriously discussing something as well. They kept quietly chatting to each other before they took notice of you, giving small waves and warm smiles as they began to walk over towards you. The ginger girl quickly speaks up and puts out her hand "hello! My name's Connie! Are you new here??" Her smile warmly grew as you took and shook her hand, you gave her a warm smile back. "Yea.. me and my father live slightly out of town but we're practically on the edge." You said nervously, not knowing if they knew what you were talking about. Quickly the girl in the red v-neck tank top spoke up and said, "oh that old house!? I remember when a lil' old couple used to live there! Gosh! They were so sweet..my name's Julie by the way!" She giggled, and she gave a girly wave at you. You couldn't help but look at the middle girl, your brows slightly furrowed in worry at her quietness before Connie spoke up, "oh.. that's Ana, her sister went missing.. I'm sure you've already seen the posters around town by now." Her smile quickly faded while she spoke, Ana gave a quick half smile before turning around to look at the clothes on the wall. Julie gave a slightly worried look back at Ana before looking at Connie then back at you, "yea.. she's been in rough shape ever since. But she's been determined to find her…" Julie explained, before giving a big smile, "you should meet up with us at the roller rink tonight! It's always Nice to have new friends!" She yelled excitedly, jumping excitedly. Connie also seemed to get excited by this and nodded in agreement, her smile nearly blinding you with excitement. You smiled joyfully at the idea and soon nodded and agreed to join them later at the roller rink. You wanted to explore a little bit more before meeting up with your father again to tell him the news.

A few minutes pass and the three girls soon leave the building with you before they split off into a different direction than you, leaving you alone. You look around and decide to walk down towards the post office to meet up with your father, however as you were walking you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Your eyes darted around and yet you couldn't see anything, you looked behind you and still nothing. You started to walk slightly faster down the street, pushing the feeling off as just being in a new town. Soon enough you make it to the post office as your father is walking out the doors, mail and other papers in his name. He walks slowly as he's ready the envelopes and other pieces of paper, his glasses at the end of his nose and his eyebrows slightly raised as he reads and mumbles to himself. He quickly takes notice of you and fixes his glasses as he opens the car door and puts the mail in the glove compartment, a large smile on his face as you walk over towards the car. "Soooo?!... Anything exciting happens sweetie?" He smiled, his hand on the top of the car door as he leaned against it slightly. You nod and smile, opening your door on the passenger side and getting in. Your father soon follows and sits in the car, closing the door behind him. "Made some new friends!.. they want me to meet up with them later tonight at the roller rink.." you smiled, your father giving you a big hug before laughing triumphantly. "OH! I knew you could do it! Making me so proud.." he smiled before starting up the car and started to drive, you leaned up against the car door and let the wind start to blow through your hair, the feeling of being watched still stayed as you were starting to leave town. Your eyes widened and noticed a figure watching you pass by, an almost sinking feeling as you drove by filled your stomach. Soon the feeling leaves as you drive out of town, the radio blaring music and your father embarrassingly dancing to you. You chuckled to yourself bringing your attention to the sun as it slowly went down, the sky starting to turn pink and shades of purple, A smile slowly appearing on your face as you drove home.

Today was a good day, yet you couldn't shake a weird feeling about that town.

END OF CHAPTER 1

If you got his far, I sincerely hope you enjoyed chapter 1! I know nothing "exciting" happened in this one, however I promise it'll get more interesting as we continue! 💋💋💋

Special Thanks and inspiration - @lil-spider 💋❤️

//CHAPTER 2//

[crystal-cliffs]

I’ve been working on this AU for awhile now and whilst the first chapter is not anywhere near done, yet I wanted to share a snippet from the beginning since I am quite proud of what I’ve managed to write down so far. 👍✨

It’s still subject to change though ofc

Emily pressed her wings flat against her back as she looked at Lute who was a few steps ahead of her. She had been deathly quiet as she led her to her apartment which put Emily on edge. The trial was definitely…a lot, but Lute was so loud then and now she seemed to have effectively shut down. She didn’t really know Lute but it seemed relatively out of character for her.

Lute stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

Emily poked her head around and looked into the room as the former exorcist flipped a light switch on. “So this is where you live?” She stepped into the apartment behind Lute.

To her direct left was a small kitchen and to her right a dining room with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It wasn’t the aesthetic Emily expected from Lute but it was still very pretty.

“It’s nice.” She closed the door behind her and set the suitcase she brought against the wall.

Lute stared at her before walking over towards the coffee table without a word.

Emily followed her into the open living room which had a white sectional sofa, a white shag rug, and a light brown coffee table. A large TV was perched above an unlit fireplace and just to the side was a wall of windows with blackout curtains pulled back enough that you could see the bright lights of heaven shine against the dark sky. Further back was a hallway that led to three separate rooms from where Emily stood.

“Why are you so quiet?” Emily stopped behind the couch, her head tilted.

Lute still didn’t respond, instead clicking a lighter and hovering the flickering flame over three candles in the center of the table. Her black wings shuffled around her to obscure herself from Emily’s view. Emily’s gaze traveled over them and her stomach churned at the way the long primary feathers had been clipped away. Maybe she was being too casual for everything that just happened.

“Okay…that’s okay.” Emily leaned back and tapped her fingers on the edge of the couch. ��I was only trying to make conversation.”

“Well stop it,” Lute bit back and sent a quick glare at her before she clicked the lighter closed. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

She clicked the lighter open again.

“…I know you don’t want me around, I wouldn’t want to be constantly looked after either if I was you, but that was the only way I could get Sera to let you stay. Did you want to fall?”

[emberfrostlovesloki]

Talent [Hotch x Reader]

Photo credits: Left (@lavendair) Center (@hotchs-big-hands) Right (@muresetivoire)

Prompt: An inebriated Aaron finds out that the readers has a hidden talent and they offer to show him it later. When they get back to his apartment, more sober, Aaron apologizes, feeling awkward for getting them into this situation. They (the reader) honestly asks Hotch if he would let them do it anyway? 

Pairing: Hotch x gender neutral reader. The reader uses they/them/their pronouns 

Catagory: Hurt/comfort/smut 

Word Count: 6.8K 

A/N: Content warnings below the cut. This is a NSFW story. Minors DNI. 18+ only readers for this one. Please respect this boundary. A few things here so please bare with me. This was inspired by a little conversation between @softhairedhotch and @hotchs-big-hands That conversation can be found here (link)

I loved the idea and I got this wrote this. As usual, my writing got a bit more somber than I expected. Maybe that’s just my style idk? One last thing before you can actually read this thing, I insinuate that Hailey cheated on Hotch later in their marriage. I think this is an assumption the show makes, but never explicitly states. I don’t mean to slander Hailey in any way. I think she’s lovely and loved Aaron to the best of her ability. I did this mostly to make Hotch have self-doubt. I stan Hailey in my house. Lastly, this is only my third time posting smut, so forgive me it it’s not perfect. If you enjoy this story, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! I hope y’all have a good evening - Levi. 

Content Warnings: Sex (slight hand job and blowjob [Hotch receiving]), slight size kink, sex and body doubt (Hotch), Foyet and the stabbing incident mentioned (mentioned that the attack was possibly psycho-sexual), blood, reference to a gag reflex, drinking (the team gets pretty intoxicated), sex life mentioned (reader and Hotch), Aaron is touch starved, cheating mentioned (Hailey). If I missed any, please let me know. 

List will all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/c/h = your color hair

y/f/a = your favorite actor/actress 

h/l = hair length 

h/c = hair color - aka brown hair, black hair, blue hair ect. 

d/h = dominant hand 

Hotch nearly choked on his sip of beer. He tried to hide his coughs by putting his arm over his mouth. He had certainly not expected to hear Penelope, who was seated on Rossi’s rug with many other members of the team to say, “But you know I might have thrown up because the milk was expired, but y/n wouldn’t because they don’t have a gag reflex.” Aaron watched as y/n’s face turned crimson. y/n moved over to Garcia and jokingly shook their friend saying, “Pen, why would you talk about my sex life like that? You see, this is why you can never, ever meet my parents even though you keep asking. We’ll have, like, two drinks and then you’ll start talking about what position I like best.”

Upon hearing this, Aaron couldn’t take it anymore. He moved from the living room to the kitchen. He was trying very hard not to think about y/n in an array of sexual positions and acts, but he was failing. He was also trying to remember why the team had moved from the couches to the floor. A comment of Spencer's about the rug being comfortable and warm next to the fireplace that was roaring in the center of Dave’s living room might have been the reason. It was all a blur really. They were all drunk at this point. The team didn’t normally do this when they were together, but it was Friendsgiving and the last few cases had been relatively easy by their standards.

The team had a few days off, and shockingly they were all going to be in town, so Rossi had invited them all over to celebrate Thanksgiving as a unit. Everyone had brought something and it was nice to just relax and be together. His intoxicated brain circled back to the rug and to the topic of sex and he thought, ‘Oh god, no, no, no,’ but against his conscious brain he began to picture himself having sex with y/n on that soft shagged carpet. In his mind their back was arched, and they were panting as he thrust deeply into them. Aaron was startlingly pulled from his fantasy when his name was called. He looked up and flushed further. It was y/n leaning against the marble countertop. To his credit, y/n also had a flush to their face, and they asked, “What’s got you so flustered over there Mr. Hotchner.” Aaron tried to come up with an excuse, and he opened his mouth, but his brain couldn’t supply a reply, so he just closed his mouth. More mortified now than he may have ever been in front of a member of his team. 

 y/n walked closer to him, and they placed their hands on the edge of the counter. y/n leaned back on their strong arms which could be perceived in a sensual way. Hotch swallowed, and y/n looked him over. They noticed the bulge in Aaron’s well-fitted black trousers, but they averted their eyes quickly for his dignity, so that they didn’t start getting wild ideas. y/n was grateful that Hotch was a little too disheveled to have noticed them checking out his groin. Finally, after an awkward silence, y/n asked openly, drunkenly, “It’s not what Garcia said earlier that has you so riled up, is it?” There was that small undercurrent of desire in y/n’s voice that had Aaron feel a flash of heat rush through him again.

Hotch wouldn’t have to answer. His blown-out pupils, arousal, and micro-expressions were enough to tell y/n what they wanted to know. Even drunk this was obvious to them. Aaron gave a small nod, yes, anyway. y/n let out a small laugh before saying, “We see such horrible things in the field and my sexual abilities are what's causing your brain to reboot?” They were teasing him, and Hotch couldn’t help but say, “Well this isn’t the field.” He moved toward y/n and placed his hand on their hip. y/n’s exhalation of breath and flush of their skin told Aaron that the touch wasn’t unwanted. He’d never initiated anything romantic or sexual with y/n.

The small part of his brain that was still functioning normally was screaming at him to stop. That he might regret this when he was sober. But his id was stronger than that voice. As his other hand moved to y/n’s other hip, he looked down at them. y/n’s eyes were wide and shining with a type of desire he’d never seen on their face before. _y/n_ breathily said his name; “Aaron.” Without much more to think about he asked, “Is what Garcia said true? Or is she just making stuff up again?” y/n flushed and acted askance and replied, “Why Hotch, that’s not a nice thing to ask someone.” Aaron bit back a sigh and applied gentle pressure to _y/n_’s hips. Their body moved with his touch and y/n truthful answered, “It is true though. It’s my hidden talent that’s rarely used.” y/n looked up at Hotch and the desire, the hunger they saw on his face left them reeling for a second. They knew this was crossing a hundred lines, but in that moment the very feeling of his hands on their body was such a rush that they didn’t fight it. The idea of Aaron’s large hands elsewhere had them boldly state, “I can show you later on if you let me come to your apartment?” 

That image actually made Hotch groan. It was quiet, and Aaron was eternally grateful that no one on the team had come in yet to refresh their drinks. Maybe they had all assumed what y/n and he were discussing and were intentionally not entering the room. Aaron asked, surprised at y/n’s offer and their willingness to accept, “You’d do that for me?” There was that soft throaty laugh again, and y/n said, “Of course I would Hotch.” Aaron swallowed again and replied, “Okay. But only if you really want to. You don’t have to do anything for me like that if you don’t want to.” y/n moved their hand, patted his shoulder, and said, “I promise that you will get enthusiastic consent from me before it happens. And if either of us changes our minds, we can pretend this little conversation never happened. 

After this, they headed back to the living room. If the team had been intentionally avoiding them, they hid it well. The members of the BAU  seemed to be engrossed watching Spencer speed-read Rossi’s well-worn copy of Critique of Pure Reason by Kant. As y/n sat back down next to Emily, they whispered, “Why are we watching Spence read?” Emily listed slightly toward y/n and said, “We’re going to have Rossi test him on the concepts of the book. Or see if the genius can remember some especially long passages. We want to see how much he can remember when he’s this drunk.” y/n chuckled at the concept. They were now also invested.

An hour and a half later the team slowly started saying their goodbyes. At this stage, y/n and Aaron were more in control of their faculties. They were the third party to leave, and they both shared an Uber back to Hotch’s apartment. Because neither of them knew how much they would be drinking that night, they had shared a ride over to Rossi’s together. y/n only lived two blocks over and Aaron promised to walk them the rest of the way home. On the short ride back, y/n and Hotch both gained more clarity, and Aaron was starting to feel uncomfortable with what he had said two hours earlier. His desire for y/n was still there, but he knew he shouldn’t have said what he did. Suggested what he had. As it turned out, Aaron’s desire for his younger agent rarely, if ever waned. 

When y/n had joined the team a few years ago, he had quickly found himself drawn to them physically. Hotch didn’t believe in love at first sight, but he couldn’t deny that he had experienced lust at first sight with y/n. It was like y/n had been made for him. When Hotch first thought this fully -- not just with the small voice he used to stifle unwanted thoughts with -- he realized how much of a narcissist it made him sound like. It was with that thought that he buried all feelings about y/n. He couldn’t risk going there, even in his mind. But with there still being a slight buzz in his head, his mind wandered to how the slope of y/n’s shoulders was gentle yet angular. How their y/h/c looked during golden hour, the way their eyes had held his gaze earlier that evening when they had offered to show him their talent. Aaron shifted slightly in his seat to try and readjust himself. His body was having ideas of its own again, and he didn’t appreciate it. Aaron looked over to y/n who seemed to be in their own type of reverie. It hadn’t helped that he found them attractive and that they were such a good person. 

On the team, y/n was smart. They could come up with ideas as fast as Spencer and the duo could be often found at precincts and their hotel rooms bouncing ideas off each other at a mile-a-minute pace. They were also fiercely protective of the team. If someone questioned the team, or specifically a member of the team, they were there to professionally correct and support either the team or the member being targeted. He had seen them do it for JJ, Garcia, and Morgan which was funny because Derek could generally take care of himself. But that hadn’t mattered to y/n. They had stood up for and comforted Derek in their way.

y/n had comforted him too. It was more polite than with the other agents, but they had done it all the same. Aaron knew that y/n felt similarly about him as he felt about them. It was clear in their actions and demeanor around him. y/n hid it well most of the time, but every now and then, he would get a hint that those desires resided in y/n too, and he had to fight his feelings all over again. It was all a mess, and now they would have to talk about tonight. The conversations had been mutually intimate and yes, having his subordinate offer to perform fellatio on him broke about a dozen rules and regulations, but he had continued the conversation. He could have walked away, lied, or done ten thousand other things than being honest and accepting the offer. Aaron stifled another groan of annoyance and embarrassment. He knew he was fucked, or perhaps not fucked, in loads of ways. At least their conversation had been consensual. There was a small mercy in that. 

As the car moved down the quiet streets, y/n could feel Aaron near them. They chose to look out the car window instead of at their companion. y/n needed a few minutes to settle their thoughts. To say y/n was mortified about their behavior during the evening was an understatement. Their attraction to Hotch was undeniable, and they saw the tells on their boss as well. That didn’t make what they had done that evening right. y/n had been shocked by how quickly and hard they had been attracted to Aaron.

y/n didn’t know they could feel so intensely until they met him. Of course, there had been teen idols. And they had rewatched a few movies with y/f/a a few hundred times. But that was an actor, and Hotch was a real man in flesh and blood. To mention the fact that he was their boss didn’t help the matter either. In all honesty, everyone on the team had said something more personal than they would have sober during the night, but y/n was certain what they and Aaron had revealed was the most intimate. The street lights continued to pass by in a blur as they approached Aaron’s apartment. y/n knew that things would come to a head when they got there, and y/n couldn’t help but think for one second, ‘Is my desire for him so wrong? God we both feel it. Why couldn’t life be easier? Why couldn’t they just give in for once?” These were the thoughts that swilled within them, between them, as they sped toward their destination. 

When they arrived outside of Aaron’s, the two stood outside of his stoop in an awkward silence. Aaron broke it first by saying, “I never should have said anything in the kitchen. I never should have put my hands on you. I sincerely apologize for my actions, y/n. I never meant to make this uncomfortable between us. I value your contributions to the team and I’d never view you as a sexual object. I was drunk and it was a mistake.”

Hotch realized that he was rambling, and he looked to y/n for their response. They looked back and him and replied, “I started it. Well, Garcia started it. It was out of line for me to approach you like that. I respect you, Hotch. I apologize.” They both stood in the frosty air, under the light of a lone streetlamp. The wind picked up and both parties seemed unwilling to leave the conversation where it was. y/n shuddered against the cold and used a voice they rarely did with Aaron. y/n asked, “Can we go into your apartment for a minute before you walk me home? I think I need to warm up for a minute before you walk me back.”

The voice they used was one-third needy, one-third empathetic, and one-third pleading. Though Aaron could be reading into the pleading part of it. Perhaps he just wanted that to be the case. y/n had only spoken to him once before like that and it was when he had gotten injured on a case. y/n had asked him to slow down in the same tone and just like back then, he couldn’t refuse them. Hotch pulled out his keys and unlocked his front door. As they moved inside, he turned on the light above his sink and then he took a few large strides to turn on some lamps in the living space. Aaron gestured to the couch and offered y/n a seat, which y/n took.

Aaron moved toward the sink and asked over his shoulder, “Would you like a glass of water?” y/n closed their eyes at the thoughts bombarding them and said, “Yes, please.” Aaron grabbed two glasses from his cabinets and added some ice from the freezer before filling them with water. When he turned back to y/n, they had their d/h pinching the skin between their eyebrows; their face in a half grimace. Aaron moved quickly toward them and asked, “y/n, are you alright? Do you have a headache?” y/n let out a nervous laugh before removing their hand and saying, “Not yet. But it’s sure to come in a few hours. I’m not a college kid at a pre-game party anymore. I can’t do that kind of drinking without the consequences.” Aaron chuckled at _y/n_’s response. Given that he was a good deal older than y/n him, he could only imagine how bad it might be for himself in the morning. He added taking some Advil before bed to his mental notes. He would do that as soon as y/n was safely home. Even though things had been odd between them for the last half of the night, he would still ensure that they got home safe before he returned to his space to re-wrangle the thoughts that had fought their way back to the surface again. He let out a soft sigh, as he watched y/n take a sip of water. 

y/n set their glass down and looked up at Aaron. They asked a question that had undercut the whole night for them. They asked because at this moment having to fake disinterest felt like too great a burden to bear, and because they knew they were already in trouble, so why not face the full consequence? y/n said what was really on their mind with, “What if I wanted to show you anyway? Apart from Pen’s comments? Apart from the fact that I was drunk when I said what I did.” There was a silence and Hotch’s eyes blinked at what they said, trying to register the words; what was being offered. He felt the hitch in his breath as he said, “y/n I…”

They cut Hotch off saying, “Aaron. I see how you look at me. And I know that you see how I look at you. I’m sorry, but I can’t keep pretending to not care about you. To not want to give you more.” Hotch blinked a few times rapidly, trying to clear this head of images. Even now that he was in full control of his mind, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering. Aaron closed his eyes and said y/n’s name in desperation. In shame. They looked up at him and said, “Tell me that I’m wrong. Tell me that I’m wrong and I’ll stop immediately.” As hard as Aaron tried to say no, he couldn’t bring himself to.

y/n stood and half maneuvered Aaron to sit on his couch. They knelt and pushed his knees open. Hotch groaned and said, “You can’t possibly want this?” y/n ran their hands over his inner thighs and said, “I’m in full control of my faculties, Aaron. If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t be here. y/n looked over his seated body. He looked so prone like this; exposed. They often wondered about Aaron. How he felt about himself, and his strong body. y/n had noticed that he wore more layers after what had happened with Foyet. The textures and materials of his suits had changed as well. Half of the time y/n was sure he was sweating under all that fabric. _y/n_ gently dropped to their knees and asked Hotch, who was looking at them with trepidation, guilt even, “Aaron, are you alright? What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

For the last year or so, after Foyet, Hotch had been physically cutting himself off from close contact of any kind. It brought up too many painful memories of Hailey before she and Jack had to flee to witness protection before she divorced him. When he was younger he had been so passionately in love with her. It was the most he had ever felt in his life, and with his childhood the way it was, there was a great comfort in that. When he and Hailey had met again as adults, those feelings were still there and they persisted throughout his time in law school and his short stint as a prosecutor.

But when he had joined the BAU things had changed. At first, there had been a thrill for both of them. But with time, Hailey seemed to grow tired of his constant comings and goings. His late nights in the office under Gideon. Their sex life had changed and what used to be passionate and loving sex turned into less passionate more need-based sex from either himself or his wife. Then Jack happened, and Gideon’s incident in Boston which left even less time for him to spend with his wife and newborn son. Again sex changed for them because Hailey needed time to heal and Jack took up most of their time when Aaron was home. When they had been intimate at that stage it felt different. It happened rarely and he could feel Hailey withdraw from his touch sometimes.

A few months later, when he started to assume that she might be acting unfaithfully to him he started to understand why his wife was so hesitant to be around him. Aaron didn’t want to believe it was true. He wanted to think that it had something to do with him. Some shortcomings of his character or body. When it came out that she had been seeing someone else, Aaron forgave her. He still loved her deeply and he knew that he had his own issues; being around was the chief one for his wife. Some part of him understood why she had sought comfort in someone else while he was away even though he would never do that to her. A part of Aaron still thought that there was something wrong with him, his body, and his performance in bed. And the last time he and Hailey had really, intentionally tried to be intimate, his own doubts and the thought of her with another man had not allowed him to finish. Aaron didn’t assume that was the death knell of their marriage, but part of him factored it in. 

Then Foyet had physically assaulted him, his body. Hotch never told anyone, and the team didn’t say anything, but he had wondered if Foyet was seeking some sort of sick sexual release with the knife as a subsite penis. Aaron had passed out from blood loss before he could know the answer to that question. Aaron was grateful for that to this day. So the idea that y/n, the kind and caring person they were was interested in him sexually was rather unbelievable to him. It had been so long since he had been sexual. He even stopped allowing himself to touch himself if he woke up aroused. He felt like he deserved it. He didn’t know how he would act, or perform if he accepted y/n’s offer. Thinking about it made him nervous. And yet, his desire for y/n persisted. 

Hotch swallowed and he suddenly felt like he needed ten glasses of water instead of the one he had just consumed. He looked down at y/n and replied, “I shouldn’t even be sitting here. These thoughts… they.” Aaron felt embarrassed at himself and looked away, not really knowing what to say. It had been so long that he had felt a desire this strong. It had been even longer that someone had been this intimate with him. Even to have his legs spread and y/n looking up at him with such care. They hadn’t even fucking done anything yet. Aaron closed his legs and y/n let him.

They wanted Hotch to know that he had full control of his body. Of what happened, if anything did end up happening. y/n stood and leaned close to him. With tender care, y/n took his chin in their hand and directed his face to look at them. y/n said, “Desire isn’t a sin Hotch. There isn’t some cosmic scale weighing whether you looked at some girl crossing the road five years ago. It’s a natural feeling; it’s not wrong to feel it. If anything you’ve been restraining yourself. So have I.

I care about you too much to just keep dreaming about you at night. It feels like I’m using you. So now you know how I feel. Now would you please let me do this for you?” Aaron had to blink back a few tears at y/n’s statement. It was so honest that he could hardly see past it. It was blinding in its sincerity. To know that y/n felt like him in that way made him feel warm in a different way than his body responding to theirs. As a last half-assed defense, he said quietly, “I’m your boss.” The chuckle y/n let out had his eyes on them in an instant. Laughter hadn’t been the response he had expected. y/n was wearing their ‘color me surprised’ face. And Aaron laughed at the expression too. It was no surprise to both of them. But this wasn’t about power dynamics, it was about tenderness and longing, and when y/n asked, “Would you let me take care of you?” He nodded his head yes and then verbalized that he wanted it too. 

With his consent given. y/n pressed into him. Their hands found traction on his biceps, and they moved their mouth over his neck. y/n could feel his steady pulse under their mouth. At the contact, Aaron let out a sigh. His body reacted almost immediately. He shifted slightly, closed his eyes, and moved his head to the side a bit to give y/n better access to his flesh. When Aaron had gotten in the apartment, he had discarded his suit jacket and tie to be more comfortable. His shirt however was still buttoned tightly.

y/n’s hands worked at the top two buttons, but they were struggling as they tried to keep their mouth on Hotch’s skin while doing the buttons at the same time. y/n was both kissing and sucking at the sanative area. Aaron moved his arms to slide between their bodies, as he undid the troublesome buttons. y/n hummed their thanks, and as they moved to treat his clavicles and breast bone, they breathed hot and heavy over his neck. The semi-excited state of his cock grew quickly. y/n moved over the area with reverence. While their mouth worked over his partially exposed torso, their hands also moved. Their right hand was tracing the lines of his muscle on his stomach and the other was slowly trailing up and down his left thigh. When y/n placed their hand over his hardness, shielded by his pants and briefs, he groaned -- loudly. He felt embarrassed, and y/n looked up at him and said, “It’s okay to feel. I want you to enjoy this.” With how large he felt under their hand, y/n was excited to see his manhood.

They moved back to their knees, and this time, as they pushed his thighs open, Aaron let it happen. y/n set one hand on his hip and the other moved under his linen shirt, wrinkling it. y/n started kissing at his knee and slowly moved up his thigh. As they got close to his arousal, which was throbbing hard against his underwear and the zipper of his pants, they moved to the other leg and began the process again. Hotch let out a shaky breath. Whatever hesitations he had been having at the start were as far away as Neptune now. The slow buildup was driving him insane. Finally, y/n made it to his groin and kissed over his erection. From what they could feel, he was large. Long and wide. As y/n made their tactile observations with their mouth, they thought back to the dreams they had had of Aaron.

He was always well endowed in them, but now that they were here, he might even be bigger than they had imagined. y/n thought, ‘Of course he’s big. This is Hotch we’re talking about.’ They refrained from laughing but did let out a small breath. Their thought might be funny to them, but it might come off very differently to Aaron. They didn’t want to think they were laughing at him. They never wanted that.

Once they had kissed up the tip which was being held down by his belt, y/n moved their face away and started to undo the buckle of his belt. The metal was cool under y/n’s fingers. Once the belt was slipped through the front two belt loops and the two at his hips, y/n shifted forward and grabbed the hem of his shirt. They moved the stranded weave fabric up, exposing his stomach. y/n leaned in and kissed over his belly button. Their tongue licked over the well in his form, and Aaron moaned again. y/n then moved to kiss one of the exposed scars on his body. He looked down at y/n like this, and he wondered what it would be like with him in her mouth?

He stopped himself from bucking up at the thought. While y/n had been working over his body, his breathing had picked up. At this new sensation, he whispered their name. y/n made quick work of the buttons and zipper of his pants. They were careful that there were no unintended snags as they tugged the small pull down. y/n looked over his cloaked member. They kissed the shaft and then moved their hand to press against it before slowly stroking it through his gray briefs. y/n used their pointer and little finger to stimulate the sides, while their ring and middle finger applied pressure to the front of his penis. y/n didn’t tease him with their hand too long. This wasn’t the pleasure Olympics. They didn’t know how much stimulation Aaron was used to, and y/n didn’t want to overdo it for him. Before y/n removed the final layer of clothing, they looked up to Aaron again to ensure he was still on board with this last exposure. Hotch looked into their eyes, the question evident to him. In a deep voice, one full of need, he said, “Yes. If you’re willing.” y/n replied in the affirmative, saying, “I want to.” 

With consent given, y/n tugged at the elastic band of his briefs. Aaron put his weight on his feet and lifted his hips for them. y/n pulled down the fabric and revealed his member for the first time, as it rested on his body. He was large and as Hotch settled back down on the couch, they looked over him with pleasure. y/n’s hand circled the base, and they started pumping up and down with a steady pace and pressure. They praised him saying, “You’re very impressive Aaron.” Their praise and the feeling of their hands moving over him had him squirming and breathing heavily.

He was starting to sweat now, and he had never imagined it would be like this. Because if he had, he would never be able to let go. But now that it was actually happening, he couldn’t care about the complications. He felt so good with y/n rubbing their hand against his cock, and he muttered, “Fuck, y/n. You’re so good.” They smiled, and he cursed again as y/n used their other hand to stroke and circle the base of his member. y/n didn’t spend a very long time with their digits, after all, they had promised to show Aaron their talent, and having him cum in their hands was not on the agenda.

So y/n removed their d/h from the shaft and Aaron’s eyes grew wide with the sudden loss of contact. He felt like he might explode if didn’t have that stimulation moving over him. He was about to say something, but the breath was forced from his body as y/n took the tip in their mouth. y/n shifted on their knees a bit to be able to best take Hotch in. The carpet under their legs was decently comfortable, but the wood floor underneath was solid.

y/n paid attention to the tip first, suckling it and running their tongue over the slit on the top. Aaron tried to take a steadying breath, but he was falling apart at the sensation of pleasure rushing through him. When y/n was comfortable with the feel of him and had built some confidence at being able to take him in, they pushed their tongue down and hollowed their cheeks. Carefully covering their teeth, y/n moved their mouth further down his length. At this, Hotch tipped his head back and moaned again. y/n wasn’t even halfway down him before some precum leaked from the tip. y/n pulled up and sucked the briny ejaculate off his cock. y/n swallowed it quickly and moved back to working him over. They would think more deeply about the taste of Hotch’s cum later, but for now, they wanted to keep hearing Aaron mutter their name or try to keep his breathing even. They could feel from his reactions and the throbbing of his cock that he wasn’t in control at all, even if he was trying to be. y/n momentarily wondered how long it had been since anyone had done this for him. 

Aaron's width not only filled their mouth, but his length, even though they didn’t have a natural gag reflex, was still a bit too much for y/n to fully cover with their mouth. About an inch was left exposed to the cool air. Before y/n moved their free hand to make up the difference, they looked over Hotch. The sight of him, head tipped back, mouth open sent a wave of pleasure through them. y/n noticed Hotch’s hands gripping the side of the couch with white knuckles. As y/n continued to move over him, they used their free hand to grab Hotch’s left hand from the couch cushion and to set it on the crown of their head.

Aaron looked down at y/n as they moved his hand to the back of their head. He hesitated. He was desperate to take what was being offered on top of what was already happening. On top of the bliss and heat, he was feeling in his cock. y/n patted his hand on their head giving him a non-verbal “It’s okay.” Aaron couldn’t help himself and threaded his long fingers in y/n’s h/l h/c. y/n continued to move up and down his shaft, and then covered the base of his cock that couldn’t be inside their mouth. With Aaron fully enveloped, he bucked his hips up and as y/n had said, the extra pressure didn’t cause any gag reaction. In fact, _y/n_ hummed their satisfaction at his action.

He trembled under y/n and thought about what they had said earlier in the night about feelings not being wrong. And moving his hips had felt so, so, blindingly good that he did it again. And then again, and again, and again until he was sure he could feel himself ready to cum. y/n was intently focused on his pleasure. Aaron’s member was lined with a few thick veins running down the side and back. As Hotch started to take control of his own pleasure with gentle pressure to their head, y/n lifted their tongue up and down those ridges on his cock. This new sensation and the slight sucking that y/n was doing sent him over the edge. Aaron’s hand tightened in y/n’s hair, and he came with a shudder. He let out a loud moan and pulled y/n’s head off of his cock. They had only taken a bit of his semen in their mouth. y/n wondered why he hadn’t let them swallow his ejaculation, but didn’t ask now. There were still so many things to know about him. Things they hoped they could learn together with time. y/n stroked his thigh softly as he rode out his orgasm. Seeing him so out of control only wanted to make them care for him more. 

When the waves of pleasure subsided, Aaron relaxed back into the couch cushion. He closed his eyes because he was afraid of what he would see in y/n’s eyes if he opened them. He wasn’t fully sure how to cope with what they had given him. A soft touch of his thigh did eventually made him see y/n, and they were looking at him with a care he had rarely seen in his life. He swallowed back some tears, and he patted the couch next to him. As y/n got up from their knees, and sat next to him. He pulled his underwear over his nakedness. His cum was staining his shirt and pants and he would need to launder and shower after he talked to y/n.

y/n sat and gave him space, but he needed to feel them close to him. To have this living, breathing care in his arms. He turned to face y/n and asked, “May I hold you?” y/n nodded, and Aaron moved his arm to rest behind their lower back. He pulled y/n close to his side, and they turned toward him softly. y/n placed their head on his broad, muscular shoulder. There were a few moments of comfortable silence before y/n said, “You don’t ever owe me anything, Aaron. You know that right?” The question lingered until Aaron’s hand moved to the back of y/n’s head, gently running his digits through the smooth hair.

A different kind of touch than what he had been doing a few minutes before. Now that he had been sated, he feared that a gulf would form between them. But y/n’s comment gave him something to think about, to still his nervous mind. Finally, he replied, “But I do owe you things y/n. I owe you safety on the field, professionalism in the office, and privacy. I feel like I owe you more than those things as well.” y/n’s hand was back on his thigh again and they replied, “Okay, valid point. At the job, you do play a different role, but we’re both adults Hotch. We’re not teenagers trying to shag in the high school gymnasium. Given how long we’ve waited for something to happen between us, I think we can keep it together at work.” At this statement, Aaron chuckled lightly. y/n was certainly true about that. After a beat, y/n continued saying, “But is it so impossible to believe that we couldn’t do both? That we couldn’t care for each other outside of work?” Aaron pondered the question. He thought about what they had said. About the profound pleasure, y/n had brought him; and not just physical pleasure, but an emotional cover as well made him consider his words wisely, carefully. When y/n was with him like this, it felt like his many flaws disappeared. That he had a clean slate. Hotch closed his eyes and rested his head on top of y/n’s, as he said, “I willing to try.” 

When it was appropriate, Aaron quickly cleaned himself, changed, and then walked y/n back to their apartment. Before y/n went inside, Hotch placed a hand on their lower back and leaned down to kiss y/n’s forehead. They had both agreed to take a day and see if any other feelings, questions, or concerns that might arise once they were apart. They scheduled a meeting of sorts for Sunday to talk more deeply and thoroughly about what this relationship might look like. When they parted for real, Aaron walked down the quiet street. It was late in the night, but he didn’t feel tired. As he walked, he considered how physically closed off he had been the last few months. Close off to the team and himself. But y/n had helped him see the sky again and no matter what happened after this, he would always be grateful for that. 

On Monday, y/n went to see Garcia. To honestly say, “What the hell Pen?” However, the technical analyst had been watching y/n and Aaron pine for each other for two years and even though her comment at Rossi’s had been a Freudian slip, she still noticed how the pair spent a long time in the kitchen. How they had both come back flushed, eyes wide. Once y/n stepped into Garcia’s space, Penelope could see that something happened and did a little happy dance in her chair before getting up and dragging y/n into her office, closing the door. Once they were alone, Pen said, “y/n tell me everything.” y/n flushed, a bit exasperated, and said, “The answer is, I may never tell you anything about my sex life again. But thanks, Penelope.” y/n winked at their friend and left the office with a smile on their face. Garcia gave a little excited scream of happiness as she moved back to her desk. Sometimes when things didn’t go to plan, it still worked out.

Text Break Banners by @cafekitsune

Taglist: @criminalskies @tgskitten @geminitapestry @potatovoyager @princessjax @samaldonado5

Want to be added to the taglist? Please see My CM Taglist Post (linked)

Want to send in a request? Please check out this post, CM Request Post (linked)

[orphanheirs]

OC Character intro~

Thank you @drchenquill !!

I plan on posting an official intro for this guy soon enough, but this is a good trial run/first look for that!

Name: Tristan Learmont

Nickname: Had no familial nicknames. Crispin calls him "the fop" before getting to know him better (fop being an old word for a dandy). The demon sometimes calls him "puppy" in reference to his young age and, at the time, another word for a dandy/effeminate male.

Kind of being: Human. Some distant fairy ancestry (he's unaware of this).

Age: 12

Sex: Assigned male at birth. Definitely not cis. If he lived in modern times he might call himself trans or nonbinary.

Appearance: Thin and frail-looking. Very, very pale from lack of sunlight. Dark circles under his eyes from poor health and disinterest in sleeping much. Icy blue eyes. His hair is so dark brown it looks black, and is slightly wavy. The longest part of his hair brushes his shoulders. It's basically a historic shag/mullet. A rather prominent and pointy nose. A slight under-bite which is noticeable from his lower lip protruding further than his upper lip, making it look like he's pouting all the time.

Occupation: Nothing since he's a kid! I guess technically you could say he's working for the demon.

Family Members: His parents are Loftus Learmont and Cassandra Learmont (maiden name Coffin). They are landed gentry, and very wealthy. Loftus is Scottish in ancestry, but they live in England. Tristan also has 12 older siblings. From oldest to youngest, they are: Anquetil, Frederick, Julietta, Lorin, Evelina, Matilda, Florentia, Theodosia, Menander, Presley, Harcourt, and Lenore. Tristan is the only child younger than Lenore.

Pets: None. He wasn't allowed any growing up.

Best Friends: Crispin, who is also his only friend. They don't really become friends till well into the story though.

Describe his room: When he was living at home, his room was large, with high ceilings. There was a large fireplace, and a huge four poster bed with an even huger canopy. There were also tall windows with deep casements, in the fashion of the day, but these were always shut tight and often covered with heavy drapes. The room was lit primarily by oil, candles, and the fire. It was often shadowy and gloomy. But still the walls were papered beautifully, the drapery on the bed and windows was of the finest material, the bed was furnished with the finest quality linens, and the floor was covered in an expensive rug. There was a table and chair of polished wood where Tristan did his lessons, writing, and sometimes his reading. When he was little the floor was strewn with an exorbitant amount of toys, and later the floor was strewn with books, sheets of paper with writing on them, and various contraptions. Any clean-up of this by the servants was quickly undone as soon as they left the room. The walls were covered in portraits, all of them of Tristan at different ages.

Way of Speaking: He speaks softly, and his voice sounds sweet even as he's saying something awful or mean. It has a frail sound to it, as if he can't speak any louder, but this is partially an act. He can be ear-splittingly loud when he wants to be. His voice is also very nasally, which adds to its shrillness when he raises his volume. He speaks in an overly formal, literary sort of way, as he's read far more books than he's had social interaction. He has the accent of an upper-class English person of the early 1800s. This is quite different from the modern upper class English accent.

Physical Characteristics (Posture, Gestures, Attitude): Holds himself rather languidly, like he's slightly bored by everything. This is partially because of actual fatigue due to illness. Leans a lot on things and sits on things that aren't meant to be lounged on/in (windowsills, tables, the nook of a bent tree trunk). When he's arrested by passion for something he seems possessed by a manic energy and perks up significantly. He has a gliding, elegant way of movement. If not for the awkwardness of being 12 it would verge on graceful.

Items in his Back Pocket/Purse: He keeps an enchanted pocket watch given to him by the demon on his person at all times. It tells him how much time he has left to fulfill the tasks the demon gave to him. He also keeps scented water to perfume himself with, and a handkerchief to cough into. He also keeps some medicines with him, or what passed for medicines at the time (they're probably actively making him worse). He keeps these things in his pockets if he's wearing boy clothes, and carries a reticule if he's wearing girl garb.

Hobbies: Reading is a big one, and so is dabbling in the occult. He went through a long phase of trying his own scientific experiments, and even building simple machines. He adores fashion, and enjoys writing, whether that be in his diary or short stories. He also loves dancing, and singing too. Once he runs away from home, he loves exploring nature.

Favourite Sports: He wasn't allowed to engage in physical activity growing up due to his medical issues, so he's never really played any. He doesn't have a huge interest in it, though. He really would love to ride horses, and to hunt. He would love to shoot a gun.

Abilities/Talents/Powers: He's very smart for his age, and has a higher-than-average propensity for retaining information he learned from books. Has some natural knack for doing magic, and somewhat of a sixth sense (he's seen/sensed spirits his whole life). Quite talented at writing and being creative in general. Naturally good at dancing.

Relationships (How they are with other people): He was raised with a mixture of emotional neglect, isolation, and being spoiled rotten and never disciplined for bad behavior, so he's uh. A Lot. He has no idea how to be considerate and show care for another person, and he doesn't see a reason to do so either. He's annoying, invasive, rude, condescending, selfish and cruel towards others. Even if he likes someone, he still sees them as a toy or pawn to get what he wants rather than a separate person as human as he is. On a more subconscious level, he doesn't believe he's likeable anyway, so why try to be nice? The trouble is he is likeable to some: he's also cute, funny, smart and interesting, so he can charm certain kinds of people despite his best efforts. When someone likes him he's really taken off guard; it's probably the only thing that can make him quiet and awkward. He forms the first real bond of his life with Crispin, quite unconsciously and over a loooooong period of time.

Fears: Before leaving his childhood home, it was dying before he's gotten the chance to live some life in the outside world. Now it's not achieving what he wants to and needs to in the short time frame he has.

Faults: Many, lol. As I mentioned above, he's selfish and cruel, and also imperious and condescending. He thinks he's smarter than almost everyone and acts like it. He's also reckless, impatient, and quick-tempered. He lies a lot, and can be quite manipulative and pushy. Won't do anything he doesn't want to. Harbors a lot of the prejudices his class held in the time period (e.g. thinks the "lower orders" are inherently inferior etc).

Good Points: He's creative, imaginative, brave, smart, determined, passionate, and has a great capacity to care about others. His sentiment and empathy betrays itself in his rapturous response to romance and tragedy in literature.

What they want more than anything else: Freedom and life. Deep (deep deep) down he wants love.

~~~

Sorry this is SO long!! I have a lot to say about this lil guy.

Tagging: @vesanal, @avaseofpeonies, @transthadymacdermot, @tragedycoded, and @kaylinalexanderbooks !

Tell me about your lil guys!!!

[stylists-supporting-stylists]

🪩 Disco Dreams 🪩

Credit to @lisamayocreates

Earthy tones with pops of color was the color palette for the 70s, think of the shag rugs and the psychedelic album covers. The contrast of the muted tones with the bright pops is something I am drawn to, so I created a deep brown chunky pattern with pops of my favorite chartreuse color and just enough warm burnt orangey blonde to add another layer of depth.

I’d say shes ready for the disco ball and the dance floor bb✌🏽

@pravana

@colorwowhair

Model @alainalink

MUA @stephxcosmetics

📸 @tichomirovgeorge

#pravana#saloncentric#colorwow#creativecolor#hairbrained#hairslayerz #greenhair#yellowhair#chunkyhair#wigwork#nyhair#nyartist#makeuptutorial#nyphotoshoot#nyfashion#esteticamagazine #stylistssupportingstylists

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 629, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby, child intoxication, death of a minor character, injured baby, kidnapped child

WORDS: 1069

I giggled as Elizabeth modeled her pirate costume- she and Katie would next be doing a Pirates of the Caribbean medley for her successful YouTube channel, shooting some footage on the Lady Sand Wind ship that would be moored in the harbor next week.

The captain had reached out to Elizabeth, his daughters being huge fans of her YouTube channel. In response to all of this, I had reached out the Mad Hattery Company from faire, and the owner had showed up at the house with a bunch of hats for the girls to try on. Elizabeth had fallen in love with a pretty rose red tricorn hat and had requested a heavy plumage of royal purple feathers while Katie had picked out a dark brown-black head covering that had pirate inspired designs etched into the leather. Elizabeth had asked the man if she could list his creations in the credits, to which her request was approved.

“Elizabeth, are you going to make a protective head covering to protect the skin on your head from your new hat?” I asked her as she was trying everything on to get an idea of what she would look like.

“That’s on the agenda!” she reassured me. “Hey mommy, can Katie and I have swords?”

“They don’t need to be sharp or fancy or anything!” Katie chimed in, twirling around my study. She would be wearing torn brown capris, a loose fitting white blouse, a bright red vest, her hat and bare feet. “They just need to look aesthetically pleasing!”

“Let me look on Amazon and see what all they have, alright?” I hummed as I worked on making the babies some new garb for faire. A massive growth spurt had hit the tiny little humans, and at this point, we were making new clothes for them every other week. The three of us womenfolk didn’t mind either way because we all quite enjoyed sitting down and sewing and knitting and crocheting and embroidering. “Ah, found some! Come on over and tell me which ones you like!”

After I had purchased swords for them, both of the little Ratajczyk pirates both went tearing off to show me their attire, giggling happily all the while. I knew where my handsome silver daddy was- in our bedroom, giving Isabelle a good dicking. The babies were all having a nap in their respected bedrooms, and I could feel Peter grunting and panting through our soulmate bond.

I folded the armful of baby clothes over an arm before I left my office, going up to swap out the new clothes with the outgrown shirts and overalls and pants tucked away in drawers.

I could be found humming a sweet song under my breath as I left little girl’s big girl bedroom, where all the tiny little babies were sprawled out across her pink fluffy shag rug, dreaming sweet little baby dreams as they peacefully napped.

I next passed by Elizabeth’s bedroom, where I overheard both she and Katie running through their Pirates of the Caribbean medley, with Elizabeth playing her mother’s harp and Katie on her kantele. I paused for a brief moment before heading upstairs to the master bedroom, where I found Peter lazily eating out the family nanny.

“Hihi, Izzy bear, hihi my love,” I greeted the two fucking bunnies as I shut the door behind me and removing my loose fitting crop top to reveal sexy black lace. I swayed my hips as I sauntered my way across the room to crawl up onto the bed and tackle Isabelle in a searing kiss. “You alright?”

“I’m on my period, and I’m super horny right now,” she confessed, her eyeballs rolling backwards into her skull as her orgasm washed over her sweat coated body. She collapsed into my arms, moaning and twitching lightly as I settled her down onto my side of the bed.

“Come to me now, my sexy woman,” Peter snarled just then, seizing me around my hips and the tossing me onto his burly chest. “I demand to eat your pussy.”

“After I’m done with my daddy’s dick,” I bartered evenly, my fingers nimbly undoing the button and zipper that was located at the front of his jeans, my touch as soft as a whispered lullaby as I brought out his erect cock. “Release the kraken!” I cackled before inhaling him fully down my throat.

“JESUS FUCK-” he hissed, throwing his head backward with a near silent howl as I began to slide my nose up and down his manly girth. His hand gathered my loose flowing curls and used them to guide me, his grunts and gasps only egging me onward all the more.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck… fuck…” gasped Peter before going stiff all of a sudden. “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK…”

I gasped as warmth flooded down my throat and into my belly, where I eased him out of me and stood up, bending to kick off my jeans before pouncing on top of him with a needy whine.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c0la

@rockstarslutt

@angelxfuckk

[moonsromance]

🌷

⊹ ࣪ ˖ @escapedartgeek. meme. still accepting!

❝You know, Zora,❞ Virote started, front teeth clenching his joint in a half-assed attempt to fix the shitty job he did rolling it, ❝I know people love to vilify the 70s and 80s as if they were tasteless, but those decades, in my honest onion? Even when regular people's houses were, like, brown and beige with some weird puke-y green accents here or there? They were the peak of design. Peak. Take Angelo Donghia, for example—? Iconic, like… Superly so. I think about how he utilizes textiles every single time I close my eyes to sleep. Deep, deep, deep in my REM cycles. Lacquered walls, low-slung modular sofas, heavy drapes that caress the floor like a kiss or some shit.❞

He looked across the kitchen and saw a BBQ lighter on the counter… Too lazy to go get it, though. Smoking would have to wait; he wouldn't subject Zora to getting it for him. They were his guest! That would be rude. Instead, he just twirled the joint between his index finger and thumb.

❝Also, my god, I can't stop thinking about Karl Springer—have you seen his parchment-wrapped tables or those chunky, lucite bar stools? This whole building renovation thing I'm doing has eaten. My. Brain. I've been on this, like, biiiig rose gold kick for almost a decade, which you know since you've been a guest since forever. I think I should go for jewel tones, this time. Expand on fabrics! Satin out, velvet in! Lacquered cabinetry, travertine floors, maybe a little shag rug action because I'm wild as fuck and I know what I want. My studio space is going to be all wood and cement slab, though. That's a no-brainer. Wanna see my floor plan for this project? I did it when I was drunk. Looks like shit, but I think I have something good going on.❞

[notmuchtoconceal]

Exceptionally pale skin makes me weak.

It naturally plays on the fundamental components of eroticism, that is translucency, layers and the interplay between the two.

Sneaking a peek. Seeing more than you should.

Catching a glimpse of a sweaty armpit up a sleeve. A brief bulge up a pair of shorts. The rib of a pair of socks between the cuffs of joggers and gym shoes. Wanting to bury your nose in there.

To lick. To smell.

To taste. To know.

How this is only exacerbated with cut-offs which expose more skin, more muscularity. A casual nip-slip now and then.

The pink-eye beckoning. Light catching dips and striations. The fur growing more matted and rank with each drop of effort and exertion. Creating a gloss, a sheen between rubber and wet dog.

How the shorts may sag, exposing the waistband. You can let your imagination run wild wondering what they got under there. A peek of the elastic, maybe the whole brand, both beckoning pantsing.

The odor of ripe gym socks filling the room when the sneaks kick off, toes wiggling through the damp cotton, that satisfying thud of the chunky soles still ringing in your ear.

Hence, white briefs stark beneath white nylon, upping the contrast.

White briefs beneath mesh shorts of any color where the white pops through the pores. White briefs so much whiter than any human flesh, it pops and bleeds into the surrounding air no matter the tone.

It's the same quality you see in oil paintings. How the layers catch the light and create ripples. The thickness, the sheen, the gloss. The pigment trapped within a viscosity which freezes it like amber.

This quality of eroticism isn't necessarily tied to race, it being primarily a dimension of physical light and chemistry, though this entanglement can be difficult to unknot, as many lacking in sophistication would naturally presume racist over aesthetic tendencies, with the exclusionary nature of high-brow posturing in Western civ circles not doing much to mute this presumption.

Latino, Mediterranean or Middle Eastern men can be just as pale as Central or Northern European ones, and what you'll usually see is the hues on display tend to be more brown than pink, as a foamy late or oat milk in coffee, though I take my morning glory black as night.

Men with tans, in spite of their ethnicity, tend to give off less of an intense erotic pull. Same as with men hairy as shag rugs.

This is simply due to the quality of opacity, of obscurity.

Skin which is opaque to the point that it becomes a mirror with no reflection tends to induce a subtly more cerebral mood.

Again, this is impossible -- despite the primacy of one's aesthethic concerns -- to totally disentangle from race, as different races form in response to different environmental pressures, hence individuals whose ancestors come from hotter and sunnier climes will naturally have tanner and thus more opacified skin.

Yet it also cannot be left unsaid, how translucency inherently invites the act of stripping. A uniform, tightly bound and bundled, yearns to be pulled off piece-by-piece. A hairy chest or long flowing head of hair all but demands to be buzzed down and nicked clean.

The shaving foam so much like the castration wound which birthed Aphrodite carrying the severed tendrils of hair along a current like a tide carrying debris to splay driftwood along a sandy shore.

Pale skin, through which you can see the machinery of the veins and muscles -- every artery stitched together as so tenderly described by Mary Shelly in regards to her finest literary creation -- subtly compels one to take a blade and peel it back, as one would a box cutter to the seam of tape holding a package delivery bound and wrapped.

The skin, once claimed, transmogrified into a trophy or cloak, befitting a man's primal instincts to hunt and dominate.

I confess, absolutely, when I see darker skinned men, I have far less of an instinctual pull to flay them alive. You may consider me racist for this if it flatters your agenda, though I would naturally argue against such a demeaning and over-simplified reading.

No doubt there is an erotic quality to more opacified skin which is currently escaping me, though no doubt also I'll have a more complete understanding of this soon enough. The beauty of onyx or obsidian, where you can see yourself distorted: something chitinous like the exoskeleton of a beetle bending the light into armor.

Human skin is such a complex subject, and yet we use the phrase "skin-deep" to imply superficiality. We pre-sort people into binary categories to uphold ancient tribal biases. We seldom simply look upon one another and appreciate openly our diverse arrays of exquisite beauty, no doubt for how the fear of speaking our thoughts aloud invites the biases and torments of others.

What a strange thing to think about the body's largest organ.