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ariestrxsh · 19 days ago

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❆ content warning: smut, use of toys, oral (f! & m!receiving), masturbation, cheating (kinda), getting caught, praise/degradation, voyeurism/exhibitionism, cuckold behavior, unprotected sex, threesome (ish), bf!chris, pervy!matt, gf!reader

❆ summary: chris buys you a dildo for christmas, and his brother matt, who has always had a thing for you stumbles upon you using it

Merry Chrattmas! 🤍 Sorry it's a little late. Inspired/requested by this ask.

Voyeur

"Alright, which one of you bought a sex toy?" Matt laughed after tearing open the package that had been left on the doorstep that morning without even bothering to look at the name of the recipient. He was holding up a glass dildo for the whole house to see. Nick's eyebrows flew up and his jaw dropped as his gaze meandered over to Chris from across the room.

"Give me that, asshole! What are you doing opening mail that isn't yours? What if it had been a gift for you?" Chris snarked, ripping the box and the toy out of Matt's hand. "Then I would have kindly asked you to return it," Matt chuckled, poking Chris in the side. Chris rolled his eyes.

"It's for my girlfriend, okay? Don't let her know that you've seen it, because she'd be really embarrassed," Chris responded, blushing. "I bet she'll look so good using it," Matt smirked, his imagination running wild.

It was no secret that Matt had always found you attractive. Everyone knew it. Chris knew it, Nick knew it, and even you knew it, but you'd oftentimes joke around, even to Matt's face, that you were a loyal Chris girl and that nothing could ever sway you.

Of course, Matt took this as a challenge and caused him to pine after you even more. You'd never admit to it, but you did secretly like the attention your boyfriend's brother gave you.

"Too bad you'll never know," Chris rolled his eyes at his brother's out-of-pocket comment and rushed off to his room to wrap the gift in private along with the pink Fresh Love hoodie he'd designed for you. He included a card in the gift that read:

"I hope you wear this hoodie and think of me the next time you get off without me. Merry Christmas, baby. I love you. Xoxo, Chris."

He scribbled in a poorly drawn heart at the bottom of the card. He swathed the box in gift wrap, tying a sparkly, pink bow around it and placing it under the tree.

It was only a few days later that you went over to your boyfriend's house to spend the night, and luckily, Nick was out for the evening, and Matt was on his way out, so the two of you were going to have the house to yourselves. It was the perfect opportunity for Chris to give you your present.

"You're going to love the gift my brother got you. It's gonna make you scream," Matt whispered into your ear and winked as he was getting ready to walk out the door. You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him, but your curiosity was sparked.

After he left, you and Chris sat in front of the fireplace in the glow of the burning wood and twinkling Christmas lights that were strewn around the tree. The scent of the sugar cookie candle that was burning down to the wick wafted through the air. Chris delicately placed the neatly-wrapped gift in your hand.

"I know it's not Christmas yet," Chris said with a warm smile, knowing you were the type of person who liked to wait until Christmas morning to open your gifts. You smiled back at him, fiddling with the pretty ribbon wrapped around it. "But?" You asked, waiting for him to finish his sentence.

"It's the kind of gift I want you to open alone," Chris responded, nervously biting his lip. You wrinkled your nose at him. Open alone? Too bad Matt knew what it was for whatever reason, you thought to yourself. You weren't sure where he was going with this, but that made it even harder to resist tearing open the gift.

"I'll make an exception. Just for you," you rolled your eyes in an endearing manner and began to tear off the wrap, revealing an unmarked box beneath the paper. You slowly removed the lid, and you gasped at the Fresh Love hoodie that was neatly folded on top.

It was your favorite color, and you clutched it close to your chest and gave your boyfriend an exhilarated smile. "Chris, I love it!" You glanced back down into the box where a card lay on top of some sparkly tissue paper. He'd made it himself, which made it that much more special. Blood rushed to your cheeks as you read the card aloud.

"Chris, what else is in here?" You wondered as you started rifling through the box. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped as you examined the glass toy, and you picked it up by the pink heart-shaped handle. "Chris.. it's so pretty," you whispered.

"Not as pretty as you using it, though, I'm sure," he gave you a cheeky grin and nudged you. "I don't know how. You should show me," you gave him a fake pout and batted your eyelashes at him. You did know how to use it, but you wanted Chris to be the first one to use it on you.

"Take off your clothes," he lustfully whispered as you handed off the dildo to him, a smirk playing in the corner of your lip. You pulled off your sweater, revealing that you had nothing on underneath, and you took down the waistband of your pajama pants and your underwear.

"Fuck, you're already wet," Chris noticed aloud as you slowly spread open your legs, his fingertips lightly grazing your skin. He leaned down and started trailing kisses up your inner thighs while you gently combed through his hair with your fingers as he neared your heat.

He licked a long stripe up your slit, subtly flicking his tongue across your clit once he got to it. He placed your toy at your entrance and slowly pushed it in. You squealed and clamped your legs down around Chris' head as you stretched around the glass dildo.

He began to gently fuck you with it, listening to the pretty sounds that fell from your lips as you threw your head back. You gripped his hair, tugging on it as he picked up the pace of his tongue, quickly flitting it over your bundle of nerves. He closed his lips down around it, humming against your clit, your legs shaking at the sensation.

The dildo didn't feel quite as good as having sex with Chris, but it was good enough that you knew it would satisfy you the next time you were turned on and missing him. He worked the toy in and out of you at a gradually quickening pace, and your hips started to move in unison with it.

"Chris, you're amazing," you breathlessly purred, and he chuckled with your pussy in his mouth. He could tell you were getting close. He didn't fluctuate, his motions remaining constant while his pretty blue eyes flicked up to meet yours. You rested your hand on the back of his head, encouraging him to keep eating you as your whole body started to tremble.

"Yes.. please.. just like that.. mmm.. gonna cum," you said in a series of broken moans. You felt yourself squeezing around the toy the same way your thighs were squeezing around Chris' ears, and before you knew it, you were coming undone at the seams.

The pressure that had spent so much time building in your core finally reached its breaking point. You bucked your hips, riding the toy and grinding against Chris' face as you finished. Your broken moans turned to fervent whimpers, and your whimpers turned to desperate screams, just like Matt had predicted. Your eyes wandered towards the back of your head.

Chris didn't take his gaze off you. He loved making you feel good, and he relished in the way your body reacted to orgasm. He thrust the toy in and out of you and licked your sensitive button until you were completely finished and pushing his head away.

"Oh my god," you said, trying to catch your breath and recover from the intensity of your climax. Chris came up for air, his lips and chin glistening in your fluids. "That was so hot," he said in a low, sexy voice. You took the toy from him and leaned in to kiss him, tasting yourself on his tongue as the two of you passionately made out.

"You're so good at giving," you told him. "Gifts, I mean." The two of you laughed at your play on words. You both spent the rest of the night watching Christmas movies cuddled up on the couch with mugs of hot cocoa while the fire burned through the rest of the wood.

You and Chris eventually found your way to his bedroom where the two of you fell asleep in each other's arms tangled in the sheets. The warmth of his body wrapped around you and the comforting feeling of his hot breath on your neck was the last thing you remembered before you drifted off...

You awoke the next morning to Chris shifting around on the bed, and after you rubbed your eyes, you realized he was getting dressed to go somewhere. "Where are you going?" You asked in your sleepy voice.

"I'm going to go pick us up coffee and bagels. Just keep sleeping like a little angel, and I'll be back soon. I love you," Chris whispered, leaning down to kiss you and ruffle your hair.

You were hoping to sneak in a little early morning sex with him, but he was already putting his shoes on, and you figured you could just use the new toy he bought you while he was gone. "I love you, too," you responded in a sweet voice.

You watched him from your foggy window, flakes of snow starting to slowly fall from the sky. Your face lit up, excited that you were going to get your White Christmas after all. Chris blew you a kiss before he got into his car and sped off.

You sauntered over to the pretty box that held your gifts. You changed into the pink Fresh Love hoodie Chris had designed for you, and you twirled around in front of his big mirror, admiring how perfectly it fit you.

You reached for the phallic-shaped glass and held it in your hands, contemplating whether to wait until Chris got back or to use it. You decided on the latter, unable to contain yourself any longer.

While Chris was still out getting the two of you breakfast, Matt wandered in through the front door. He set his keys down, let out a sigh, and started off down the hall, completely unaware of what he was about to stumble upon.

He walked past Chris' room, but some movement out of the corner of his eyes caused him to stop dead in his tracks and take a couple steps back. He was surprised to find you there, considering he didn't think anyone was home.

What surprised him even more was what you were doing. You were laying on your back on Chris' bed in nothing but your pink hoodie, legs spread, and your pussy wrapped around the toy he'd accidentally opened in the mail a couple days earlier.

You were so enthralled with what you were doing that you didn't even hear him come in or see him as he leaned up against your door frame with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He raised an eyebrow as he studied the view, wetting his lips. It was everything he hoped it would be.

Your facial expressions were steeped in desire, ethereal moans rolling off your tongue, and your cunt stretching around the toy as you worked it back and forth. He immediately grew hard, watching you and imagining it was his cock pumping in and out of you.

Your eyes flickered up, realizing he was in the room with you. You gasped and shut your legs, holding the toy still inside of you as you clenched around it. "Please. Don't stop," Matt begged, reaching for the bulge in his pants and gently running his hand over it. "Keep going. Please. I just wanna watch," he softly begged.

It was so hard to see him stroke himself through his sweatpants and not do the same. You knew it was wrong to be feeling this way about your boyfriend's brother, but you felt your stomach drop as your eyes landed on the outline of his hard cock and before you knew it, you were spreading your legs back open and continuing to fuck yourself with your dildo.

"Does that feel good?" He asked you, and you timidly nodded at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He walked forward a few feet, coming around to the side of the bed to watch you more closely. He reached out and lightly brushed your cheek with the back of his hand.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you quietly told him, but you couldn't help the way you relaxed into his touch as he caressed your face. "It's not like I'm fucking you," Matt smirked, and as he said it, your mind was immediately filled with ideas about what it would be like to get fucked by him.

Matt brushed his thumb against your bottom lip and gently pushed it into your mouth. You accepted it and started lightly sucking on it while Matt reached into his sweats and pulled out his pretty cock. You were shocked at how similar it looked to Chris', and it made it even easier for you to justify to yourself that you weren't technically doing anything wrong.

You sped up the toy thrusting into you as Matt continued to poke and prod your mouth with his fingers while he fervently jerked off at eye-level with you. "Good girl," Matt whispered as he ran his other thumb over his tip, coaxing a shiny fluid to leak from it. You sped up the pace as you watched him.

You knew the two of you were crossing a line, but you couldn't help yourself. Matt was too busy watching your toy glide in and out of your hole, and you were too busy watching Matt fist his cock that neither one of you saw Chris standing in the doorway with bagels and coffee as he stumbled upon the two of you and the way you were each hungrily looking at one another.

"Oh yeah? So I'm out getting you breakfast and you're using the toy I got you in front of my brother?" He scoffed, breaking the two of you out of your trance and making each of you jump.

He expected this from Matt, but he was shocked to see this kind of behavior from you. Matt pulled his thumb out from between your lips, and you each brought your movements to a standstill.

The longer Chris fixed his eyes on the scene in front of him, the more he found himself getting turned on by you playing with yourself in front of his brother. "Don't let me stop you. At least let me enjoy the show," Chris said, setting down the bagels and coffee on his dresser as he made his way to the foot of the bed and sat down.

You and Matt were dumbfounded, wondering if this was some kind of test. You halfway expected Chris to get angry, break up with you, or even physically fight his own brother. Yet, he was calm, and he seemed like he might have even liked it.

"Come on. Keep going," Chris demanded, and after a moment of hesitation, you continued to pump your toy into your drooling hole. Matt stuck his pointer finger into your mouth, and you started lightly sucking on it. A soft sigh left Matt's lips as he imagined you sucking on a different appendage, and he went back to stroking his pretty cock.

As if Chris could read Matt's thoughts, he flicked his gaze over at you, "Why don't you help him out?" He asked, a smirk playing in the corner of his mouth. You nodded and then looked back over at Matt who was putting his dick in your face that was silently begging to be sucked on.

You accepted him, wrapping your lips around his thickness as he started rocking his hips back and forth. He emitted a moan and his hand flew up to tangle itself in your hair. "Good girl," he softly purred, grabbing onto a fistful of your locks and pushing it further into your mouth.

He wasn't sure how far Chris would let him go with it, but he figured he'd test the boundaries until either one of you told him he was taking it too far. His other hand wandered between your legs. He started rubbing your clit, eliciting a moan from you that reverberated against his cock, leaving him with a lovely sensation.

"You're such a shameless little slut, aren't you? Letting my brother touch you in front of me as if I'm not your boyfriend?" Chris snarked at you, but you could tell by the luscious tone of his voice and the way he was stroking himself through his pants that he was getting off on what he saw.

"Come on, Matt. Fuck her pretty little face. She can take it. I promise," Chris encouraged him. He tightened his grip on your hair and did as Chris told him, jerking his hips forward triggering your gag reflex.

Matt continued drawing circles on your clit with the pad of his fingers as he stared into your watering eyes. His cock twitched against the back of your throat as he listened to the sound of you choking on him.

"Good girl. You take it so well. I wish I could fuck you," Matt purred. You moaned against Matt's length at the idea of him plowing you while your boyfriend watched. Chris was still gently rubbing his tip through the fabric of his pants as he watched the way you and Matt interacted with another.

"Merry Christmas, Matt. You can do whatever you want to her," Chris told him, getting harder and harder as his eyes flickered back and forth between the two of you. Matt's eyes twinkled as those words left Chris' lips.

"Oh, don't tell me that. I won't be able to control myself," Matt smirked, pulling his dick out from behind your lips with a pop. Matt grabbed the handle of your toy and slowly removed it from you and placed it on your nightstand.

"Go crazy. Can't you see how bad the little slut wants it?" Chris asked, staring down at the fucked out expression on your face and your pussy that was clenching around nothing.

Matt positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his cock teasing your hole. "You want it, don't you? You like the idea of getting fucked in front of your boyfriend?" Matt chuckled, breaching your entrance and beginning to gently rock his hips back and forth with only the first few inches of him inside you.

You slowly nodded, screwing your eyes shut as your jaw dropped at the change in sensation of Matt replacing your toy with his throbbing phallus. With every thrust, he pushed it in a little deeper until he was completely bottomed out inside of you, hitting the perfect spot.

The sounds of each of your moans dragging out and becoming louder as Matt pumped away. He placed your legs on his shoulders, fucking you harder and faster as you felt the pressure in your core building and building.

He pushed up your pink hoodie, revealing your perfect tits to him, and he gently squeezed one as he admired them. "Fuck, look at these," Matt whispered, pinching your nipple between the pads of his fingers, eliciting a soft mewl from you.

You could see Chris out of the corner of your eye moving towards you and coming around to the side of the bed. He took your hand in his and started caressing the back of it with his thumb. "Is he making you feel good?" He whispered into your ear before kissing your forehead. "Mhmm," you hummed delightfully.

It was always a fantasy of his to watch you get fucked by someone else, and although this wasn't exactly how he pictured it, he figured he couldn't let the opportunity go to waste.

"You take it like a little slut, you know that?" Chris cooed in your ear before latching onto your neck. You nodded, relishing in the way he spoke to you and the way his lips felt as he sucked on your sensitive flesh.

Matt loved the way it felt to be inside of you. He'd been fantasizing about it forever. He'd never admit it, but he'd stayed awake many nights, ear pressed up against Chris' door with his hand in his pants, listening to the sound of you getting fucked. He'd memorized the way your sweet little moans would slowly morph into seductive screams every time Chris would bring you to orgasm.

Now he was the reason pleasured noises were cascading from your lips, and he couldn't get enough. He knew you were getting close. "Oh, that's it," Matt grunted as he threw his head back, feeling you squeeze around his cock.

"Are you gonna cum for my brother?" Chris purred in your ear, recognizing the way your body was reacting and knowing you were about to finish. You looked into Chris' eyes and slowly nodded as the knot in your stomach came unraveled, your pussy rhythmically clenching around him.

"Good girl," Matt breathlessly whispered, pounding into you as hard as he could. Your pleasure reached a crescendo, and you heard a ringing in your ears and a strong buzzing throughout your body as you came undone on Matt's cock.

You couldn't see or think straight. All you could feel was an intense surge of pleasure followed by a wave of calmness washing over you as Matt's dick started to throb inside of you. He pulled out at the last second, painting your stomach in his load and pumping his cock back and forth with his fist until he had milked himself dry.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and his moans filled the room as he finished all over you. "Oh my god," he breathlessly whimpered, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. Chris' eyes followed the mess he made, his cock jerking at the sight.

"Hey, Matt. Just letting you know, this was a one-time thing, and if you're not out of here by the time I come to my senses, I might fucking kill you," Chris said sternly. Matt nodded, quickly pulling himself to his feet and tucking himself back into his pants before darting out of the room.

"Loyal Chris girl, huh?" Chris snarked at you, using your own words against you. "Chris.." you started to say, expecting him to get angry with you next. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at Matt either. I just wanted to see him run away like a little bitch," he told you, his lips curling into a devious smile.

"I actually really liked watching you two together," he admitted, biting his lip. Your eyebrows flew up in a look of surprise. You could tell he liked it, but you didn't think he'd confess to it. "Come on. Your coffee's probably cold by now."

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bejeweledblondie · 1 year ago

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Simon “Ghost” Riley Headcannons

A/N: these are loosely inspired from real life experiences I’ve had living on a military base, these men have a on & off switch it’s crazy

Simon “Ghost” Riley x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW

• Simon first saw you while he was in the States for a training exercise, he was out at one of the local bars with some of the other soldiers he was with

• Soap had actually asked for your number first & since he was so intoxicated you turned him down

• Simon apologized for Soap & that’s how you met

• he did have a heart attack when he found out there was a bit of a age gap between you two but quickly got over it when he realized how mature you were

• it was a long distance relationship at first (from personal experience it sucks in the beginning)

• there were times when he couldn’t talk due to the risk of potentially exposing his teams location so you had to write letters every now & then

• you cried constantly whenever you saw some horrific news in the paper about what was going on overseas, the anxiety was awful

• but when he returned the reunions were euphoric

• you have a bottle of his cologne & aftershave so you can always feel close to him

• and you’d spray your perfume on the letters you sent so he couldn’t always smell the paper when he was missing you

• it took him sometime to open up to you about what had happened to him in his past, & your respected that

• when he first met your family, he was shocked by all the support he had received from them

• he asked your parents to marry you the first time he met them & showed them the ring too (ofc they said yes)

• he proposed to you in private after a nice dinner, he got choked up during the proposal

• your dad specifically was elated, he got to brag at how bad ass his son in law is

• your mom if she’s a teacher, had her entire class send cards, candy, anything they’d need in care packages Soap nearly cried when he opened the sweetest letter from a little girl (this actually happened irl my mom’s class did this & one guy got really choked up)

• Simon always would be your fiercest protector

• since he’s like an freakin tree he will guide your head with his bear paw of a hand in crowds

•he CANNOT sit with his back facing the door it stresses him out

•this man is strapped 24/7 whether that be a knife, bear spray etc. he’s ready

•he has a trauma kit in his car because “you never know”

•Simon is 1000% one of those apocalypse preppers you have freeze dried food, medicine, water, etc. he’s always on edge

• he sleeps with a damn rifle next to y’all’s bed

• you have a whole security system too

• your guy’s apartment is impeccable like you could eat off of the floor

• hell your guy’s bed has damn hospital corners

• Simon adopted a cat so you don’t feel as lonely when he’s deployed

• He’s your chonky boy & you do send plenty of photos to Simon when he’s deployed

• Gaz & Soap tease him about him living his “cat dad” life

• you start trying for a baby two years into your marriage

• Simon does fall victim to the “curse of the infantry” (which is not a negative thing btw it’s a running joke that infantry soldiers have all daughters) he makes girls

• he was deployed during your pregnancy & was worried sick he nearly missed the birth of your daughter

• that little girl is the most well protected baby in the whole world, the Task Force gifted him not just baby stuff but damn security for the nursery

• He watches your baby from his phone in the nursery on deployment, he was silently crying once when he was watching you sing a lullaby to your baby girl

•Price had to comfort him father to father

•In reality Simon has a very hard cold exterior at work for the sake of keeping his mental health for the profession he’s in but deep down he’s always held a soft spot & your relationship just brings it out

✨NSFW ✨

• there is a big size difference between you two & it drives him insane

• the first time y’all had together he didn’t want to break you in half

• when he returns from deployment y’all go at it like rabbits for multiple rounds, your poor pussy was so sore afterwards

• has a massive corruption & daddy kink

• he’s an ass man I don’t make the rules here so any position where your ass if the focal point is his favorite

• y’all have made so many sex tapes for him when he’s deployed, he has a whole folder on his phone & jerks off to them in the bathroom or the porta potty (it’s a canon event, trust me) to them

• he lets your cockwarm him constantly when you’re on the couch, when he’s working, hell y’all had even fallen asleep like that

• I know people say he has a Prince Albert piercing but alas per army regulation that is safety risk I think it’s more likely he’d use a cock ring on you

• during a military ball you two snuck off & fucked in a supply closet

• he couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel room after seeing you in your gown, it was red his favorite color

• and he just looked so fucking good in his dress uniform, that was the night you totally conceived your baby girl

• he groans into your ear when he cums & he’ll use his body to just eclipse yours

• “one more baby girl” & “c’mon pretty girl use your words tell me what you want”

• is a sucker for babydoll lingerie it brings your innocence & triggers his corruption kink

• moral of the story Simon Riley fucks

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radioactivedotcom · 3 months ago

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dark apothecary [conversions] - simblreen 2024 gift 2

its a set on sketchfab i've wanted to convert for years that was inspired by world of warcraft, and so... finally did it! hope you like it!

don’t forget you can mess with sizes with the [ ] keys.

– 28 packages –

BGC

all LODS

D11 compatible

everything under 5k polygons

find them by typing [RDC] or Dark Apothecary in the search bar

you are welcome to include the package in builds dl, as long as there’s NO PAYWALL

– through here for all my s4 downloads –

tag me if you use!

download (sfs, unzip and drop in your mods folder)

––– links not working? try right-clicking and opening in a new tab!

~ have fun ~

{•̴͈ ˔̇ •̴͈}

#ts4 #s4 #sims 4 #simblreen #ts4cc #s4cc #sims 4 cc #radioactive cc

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onlyhereforthestories · 1 month ago

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Not So Secret Santa (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

Day 6! I enjoyed this one a lot. If there are any players you want specifically written for let me know! I am about 14 days in so still time to get some requests!

You had been looking forward to the Barcelona women’s Christmas party since it was arranged in early November. It was you third season with the team and your second being Alexias’s girlfriend something that was now common knowledge unlike last Christmas. By the time you and Alexia arrived, the party was in full swing. You were both bundled up in festive Christmas sweaters and couldn’t help but smile when you heard the sound of laughter and Christmas music coming from the room housing your team.

The whole team, all the staff and their loved ones had all gathered inside the hall in the training facility for this occasion. The space was decorated with all the Christmas things you could imagine, a big tree in one corner, Christmas lights strung around the celling, and even a blow-up Santa wobbling around by the entrance.

You glanced briefly at the table filled with a variety of different food and snacks, mulled wine and cookies shaped as snowflakes. There was a kiddie table with age-appropriate snacks and drink that you thought was a cute touch.

Alexia gave your hand in hers a squeeze as you made your way through a bunch of people, you could see her face light up with excitement just before she spoke, “Ready for the big exchange?” she asked, her eyes glinting mischievously. “I’m pretty sure this year is going to be memorable!”

“After what we saw last year, I have no doubt you are right.” You laughed, the warmth of her hand in yours an added bonus to the warm feeling this season has brings. You got to witness firsthand the teams legendary secret Santa tradition having missed out the previous two years because you had gone home. It saw all the players exchange gifts that ranged from funny to bizarre to, as you had found out from a very nervous Alexia last year, very personal.

You and Alexia were the last ones to join the circle around the beautifully decorated tree, yes you were a part of the decorating process. You had barely sat down before Patri threw a present Vicky’s way, the younger girl catching it and ripping into it with and eagerness only a teenager could. You watched as the once excited expression on her face turned to one of disturb and you all got to see why when she held up the ugly holiday sweater. It had tinsel and pompoms for bulbuls, and you all found out that Mapi had made it herself. And as per tradition, Vicky was now sporting the garment all evening much to the younger one’s dismay and the older defender’s joy.

As the flow of the gift exchange picked up, you couldn’t help getting lost in the chaos. You saw a pair of clown slippers fly across the circle, a picture of Patri on the floor framed with the title ‘most dramatic faller’, and a Lego Camp Nou set. When it was Ingrid’s turn, she unwrapped a bright red ‘Elf Supervisor’ hat, which she promptly wore with a mock look of authority that caused you all to erupt in laughter. Keira received a fuzzy penguin onesie, which she immediately disappeared to change into it, returning to a round of applause.

Finally, it was Alexia’s turn to open her Secret Santa gift, and she gave you a knowing smile as she reached for the neatly wrapped package at her feet. You held your breath, both nervous and excited. You’d put a lot of thought into this one, wanting to find something that she would not only love but could actually use.

She unwrapped the package carefully, her expression shifting from curiosity to surprise as she pulled out the first item which was a small, sleek journal with her initials embossed on the front. She opened it to find a small message on the first page, your handwriting spelling out a few meaningful lines about the journey she’d been on this year and how much she inspired you with her dedication. You still were a little in shock with how far the woman had come since her injury and the fact that she had reached 200 goals for the club you both now loved was just the icing on the cake.

“For your thoughts, your ideas, and your dreams,” you’d written. Alexia looked up at you, eyes softening, and you could see a hint of emotion there. She mouthed a quiet “Thank you,” her fingers brushing over the inscription.

Then, to lighten the moment, you’d also included a second, smaller package. She opened it to find a mini figurine modelled after her with a tiny Santa hat on top. A delighted laugh escaped her as she held it up for the team to see. You had tried to get her game face to come across, but you did kind of think she just looked grumpy, not that you would tell her that.

“Alright, who let her at the 3D printer?” Mapi teased, grinning as she reached over to inspect the miniature Alexia, complete with a Barcelona jersey and tiny cleats. The room broke out in laughter, and even Alexia had to admit it was pretty accurate. She placed the figurine proudly on the table next to her, shaking her head with a big smile at your antics.

As the final few gifts got exchanged, Mapi started setting up her phone to get the group photo. You all piled together, faces slightly flushed from all the laughing, penguin suits and Santa hats in place, and grins on all your lips. Alexia pulled you into her side a little more as the countdown timer started, holding you that little bit closer as you were surrounded by your teammates.

After the photo, Alexia pulled you to the side wanting just a moment for the two of you. Her voice was soft and full of affection she couldn’t use in front of the young’uns because you both knew the teasing would never end. “I had a feeling you got me, I saw the paper you used in the wardrobe. Maybe try and hide it low next time being as you are smaller than me and normally need to me get in the top for you.” You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your checks at her teasing, you knew that was not your smartest move, but you panicked.

Her face went a little softer before she uttered the next words, “This means more to me than you know, thank you.” She glanced down at the journal in her hands once again and you could see how much she meant the words she said. She opened it to the first page again, her fingers lingering on your message. “I don’t think anyone else has ever captured how I feel about all this as well as you just did.”

You smiled, reaching for her hand. “You’ve worked so hard, Alexia. You deserve a place to write down every dream and every idea you have, whether it’s about football or something even bigger.”

She leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for understanding me,” she murmured. “And thank you for being here. You’ve made this the best Christmas party yet.”

As you rejoined the festivities, your heart feeling soft after her words, Alexia kept you close, her hand resting in yours as you laughed and celebrated with the team. There was no place you’d rather be than here, in the midst of holiday laughter, love, and the magic of Christmas shared with the one who meant everything to you.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagines #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

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wolfpants · 4 months ago

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Yesterday afternoon, when I was in a bit of a frazzle getting ready to go out, the postie knocked on my door and delivered the most magical gift I've ever received 🥹

Not one, but FOUR gorgeous binds from @plor-bindery 😭

I am utterly blown away by Plor's generosity, skill, and attention to detail. These have become the most treasured items on my bookshelf... dare I say my home (don't tell my cat)?!

More incohrent gushing and pics under the cut...

Everybody Hates a Tourist

That colour combination! The texts-as-a-blurb! The magical burst of rainbows (and pineapples!)! And don't even get my started on the interiors...

The postcard picture - also found on the fic's banner and Spotify playlist - made me gasp. And each chapter has its own gorgeous illustration, and - god, can we talk about drop caps please?! And the texts?

Under Giant Mountains

The foiling here is just *chef's kiss*, and that colour green is so gorgeous. The dragon! The quote! I also love the size of this one, it's so smart to choose a smaller format, it feels like a proper vintage book, like something found on Draco's shelf in his little cabin. Absolute perfection.

In My Room

I cannot believe I am holding a bound Dron book in my hands 😭 And one with such thoughtful artwork, so true to the story! The record player! The chess board with the chess pieces, weed and vinyls! I want the endpaper for this one plastered on my walls please... it's so Ron.

Kinkuary '23

When I opened the package and unwrapped this one last, I thought Plor had sent me a vintage book, but then after flipping through it, I realised it was covered in a modesty jacket 😈 Which I love, because again, it feels so... naughty and Victorian 😌 Picking that quote from the gay orgy fic is the absolutely cherry here. Brilliant! Inspired!

There is so much detail here I don't even know where to start. I love how each story includes its description, how each scene is separated with handcuffs, and... the index! Reading through some of my (quite frankly insane) tags had me absolutely howling (shoutout to "Draco Malfoy... is HORNY").

Here they all are, taking pride of place on my shelf. Honestly, the most beautiful gift. I can't even begin to explain what it feels like to hold my own writing, in black and white and on paper, in my hands. So surreal. I am so, so grateful. Thank you so much Plor, you lovely, lovely human!

#I am crying #truly I was as I was opening all of these #fanbinding #bookbinding #ficbinding #typesetting #typeface #hp fanfic #drarry #drarry fic #dron #dron fic #wolfpants kinkuary 23 #under giant mountains #everybody hates a tourist #in my room

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paigesbasketball · 18 days ago

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A December to Remember

Paige x Reader Warnings: smut, cursing (i think) notes: I saw something similar to this months ago and though i would do a Christmas version.. Inspiration from: iceinmyveins on a03!

The holiday season was always a magical time of year. Snow fell softly, dusting the world in white, and the air was crisp with the chill of winter. But for you, this December felt especially full of surprises—and a little mischievous fun. Your girlfriend, Paige, had been teasing you with a mysterious “secret admirer” gift exchange that started on December 1st, and by now, you were fully caught up in the game.

It all began innocently enough: A small, beautifully wrapped gift appeared on your doorstep. You opened it to reveal a soft red scarf, the perfect shade to brighten up a cold winter day. A note attached simply said, “To make your days warmer.” You smiled, knowing that Paige had a playful side, and it felt just like something she’d do. But as the days went on, the gifts became more personal and more thoughtful. The 3rd brought a cozy blanket. On the 5th, a cute snow globe. On the 7th, a pair of fluffy socks that matched your style. Each one had a little note, each one a flirtatious tease.

By the time you hit December 12th, you were certain that Paige was behind it all. Her playful hints, the way the gifts reflected your tastes—there was no way it wasn’t her. You were thrilled and amused by it all. The mystery was exciting. But when you received another gift on the 14th—this one, a hand-knitted sweater—you knew Paige was stepping up her game.

But December 20th, the day before your team’s away game, brought even more confusion. You were in your hotel room with the rest of the team, preparing for the upcoming game when another gift arrived at your doorstep. You opened it quickly, expecting another thoughtful piece, and this time you found set of lingerie, a soft lavender. It wasn’t from Paige—was it? You still didn’t know, but now you were getting frustrated by the mystery. Had the gifts taken a wrong turn somewhere?

You decided it was time to talk to Paige about it, but there was no opportunity. The team was leaving for a series of games, and you were all holed up in a hotel for a few days. With a little time to kill before the evening’s game, you tried to ignore the strange gifts piling up, but your mind kept drifting back to them, trying to connect the dots.

The day of the game arrived, and the mystery surrounding the lingerie gift only deepened. You could feel your curiosity building. But before you could bring it up, you got another surprise. Paige wasn’t there when you returned to your room after the game, and there, on your bed, was a package. Another beautifully wrapped gift. You opened it to find a another set of lingerie. This one, a deep wine-red, more elaborate than the others, with delicate lace details. Your stomach did a flip.

You froze for a second before reading the attached note: “For when you’re ready. Merry Christmas.” It was signed with a small heart, the handwriting that didnt look fully like Paige’s. Your heart skipped a beat. The note sent a clear message—this was something more intimate, something that meant more than just a playful joke.

As you sat there holding the gift, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, but confusion clouded your mind. Was this part of a larger surprise? Or was it a mistake in the grand plan? You were starting to feel overwhelmed and unsure of how to approach Paige with this gift.

“Hey, I got another gift from my secret admirer,” you said lightly, trying to gauge her reaction. Playing a cat and mouse game with her had to be one of the best aspects of your relationship

Paige's eyes narrowed almost immediately, a slight flicker of confusion crossing her face. She didnt sent you your gift today…atleast not yet…“Another one? What did they send this time?” Her voice was tight, and you could tell she wasn’t as playful as usual.

You hesitated for a moment before showing her the lingerie. “This came today… from my secret admirer.” You grinned, waiting for her reaction. But instead of a teasing smile, Paige’s face turned red with frustration.

“What the hell is this?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly. “I did not send this. Who the fuck sent you this? She paced in frustration, her hand rubbing her temples.

You blinked, a little stunned by her outburst. “Wait, what do you mean? You didn’t send it?”

“No!” she snapped. “I mean, i sent the others and I had a plan, and it wasn’t supposed to go like this. This wasn’t my idea! I don’t even want to know who did this, but clearly, someone is messing with me, and I’m pissed.”

You were taken aback by how upset she was. You had expected teasing and maybe some playful jealousy, but not this level of frustration. “Okay, so you didn’t do it. Who do you think it is?”

Paige took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I don’t know. Maybe the team? They’ve been way too interested in my secret admirer game. I’ll bet they’re behind this.”

You frowned. “So, the lingerie…?”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Paige muttered, her face flushed with both anger and embarrassment. “I had something sweet planned for you, not… this mess.” She glanced over at the lingerie, then back at you. “But now? I’ll make them pay. I’ll find out who did this, and when I do, they’re going to regret it.”

You sat there, still processing the sudden change in tone. “What are you going to do?” you asked, half-amused, half-nervous.

Paige smirked, her anger quickly turning to a devious grin. “Oh, I’m not going to let them off easy. I’ll make them pay for messing with my plans.”

The next day, you were all gathered at the hotel, preparing for the evening game, when Paige finally confronted the team. They were lounging in the lobby, clearly relaxed from their day off, when she stormed up to them, her eyes narrowed with determination.

“Alright, which one of you idiots thought it’d be funny to send my girlfriend lingerie?” Paige demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

The team members exchanged confused glances, trying to figure out if she was joking or genuinely angry. One of them, kk , raised her hand sheepishly. “Yeah, uh, sorry. We thought it would be funny.”

Paige’s eyes darkened. “Oh, it was funny, huh?” She smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “Well, i can do something funny too.”

The team members laughed nervously, clearly unsure of what was coming. “What do you mean?”

Paige’s grin only widened. “You’ll see.”

Later that night, after the game had ended and everyone was winding down, Paige led you into her room. “I got my payback,” she said, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “And you won’t believe how. Let’s just say, they won’t forget this for a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How so?”

Paige walked over to you, her eyes full of affection and something darker—playful and a little wicked. “Let’s just say they’ll be hearing of you tonight,” she whispered, before pulling you close and kissing you deeply.

She moved down to kissing your neck and sheds you of your clothes leaving you bare in front of her.. After she asks you to change into the lingerie that the team has so graciously given you.

Once you emerge from the bathroom she stares at you with a mix of hunger and a wicked as a small smile forms on her mouth. “You’ll help me with my prank won’t you honey” she says forming hickies on your neck, and rubbing the soft flesh of your breasts through the lace making my npples peak. “ I- umm do you think the team-” I was cut off with my own gasp as paige starts to rub the little nub of my clit. Whimpers fill the room as I try to be quiet and considerate to the team members in the hotel room next door. Little did I know thats what paige wanted.

She takes the hand that clamps over my mouth and the one that bunches her shirt and holds them in one hand of her own proving how bigger she is than me. My knees buckle as she shoves two fingers into my heat moving back and forth a couple time before she picks me up by the back of my thighs and throws me on the bed.

The next few hours passed in a blur of lovemaking and teasing moments between you and Paige. It was a Christmas to remember. When the team finally found out what Paige had done to get her revenge, they all knew better than to ever mess with her again. But it was clear: Paige had won this round—and she had made sure to end it with, a playful victory, and a promise that the best gifts were yet to come.

I do not usually write smut so i apologize for this....

-Caty Writes

#paige #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #catytuesdays #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers smut

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evansbby · 2 years ago

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𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞'𝐬 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: daddy!kink, smutt, bunny lingerie, babying, mocking, misogyny, poyt!Steve being kinky and controlling, 18+, minors dni

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve buys his omega a very special gift.

𝐀/𝐍: This is a drabble for my fic POYT. I got super inspired by this ask by @foxyprincessworld . Enjoy!

“Come here. I have a surprise for you.”

You look up from your novel to see Steve standing in the doorway, an oddly excited look on his face and a brown package in his hand. Immediately, you put your book down and go over to him as he sits down on the edge of the bed. He pats his knee and you waste no time in sinking down on his lap, looking up at him shyly.

“A surprise?” You whisper, reaching out to stroke the unassuming-looking brown package. You wonder what it could be, but seeing the wicked glint in Steve’s eye, you know it can’t be anything good.

“Yes. Go ahead and open it, omega.”

Steve’s big hand has snuck up underneath your hoodie, stroking your bare back sensually. It makes your breath hitch in your throat. You can feel him hard underneath you, which tells you exactly what you and him will be doing for the rest of the night. But what did this package have to do with it?

Carefully, you tear it open, a gasp dying in your throat when you see what’s inside. At first, all you see is pale pink tissue and shiny paper. After pushing all that aside, you’re greeted with soft pink lace that feels like butter on your fingertips. It’s lingerie – adorned with pretty embroidery and ribbons. So intricately stitched, and in Steve’s favourite colour for you – pink.

“It’s pretty.” You breathe, stroking the soft lace. You examine the G-string panties, feeling the blood rush up to your cheeks. That wouldn’t cover anything, you think to yourself. Steve had told you in the past that he found your regular flowery panties to be extremely sexy, so this was something completely different.

And then you feel something fluffy. Heart skipping a beat, you gingerly hold the G-string up and gasp softly when you see the fluffy tail sticking out from the back. Glancing back into the package, you see a pair of fluffy white bunny ears that completely match with the tail.

“This is… Steve, oh my gosh, I…” You don’t know what to say, and your alpha looks extremely smug as he clutches you close, grinding you down on his hard crotch and pressing his nose against your hairline and inhaling deeply.

“A cute little bunny costume.” Steve grins, giving your cheek a condescending pat, “For a cute little baby omega like you. Do you like it, baby?”

Like it? You were kind of intimidated by it, and mortified by the idea of wearing it. It could barely even be classified as a costume, what with how revealing it was. But you know that Steve expected you to have good manners, and so you nod. “Y-Yes. It’s very nice, thank you.”

Steve licks his lips, his hand which was stroking your bare back under your hoodie slips sideways and grabs your breast, giving it a harsh squeeze. You gulp, feeling your nipple harden and poke against his palm. Oh, he was doing that thing again! Where he made you all dumb just by touching you, making your mind all foggy and susceptible to whatever depravity he had in store for you.

“Say, thank you daddy.” Steve commands you darkly, his thumb and forefinger casually tweaking your nipple.

“Th-Thank you, daddy.” You squeak out submissively.

Your alpha smiles, and it’s crazy how quickly he switches from intimidating and strict to playful. He reaches down to give your ass a squeeze, his other hand still cupping your breast. You bet he can feel your heartbeat quickening as you swallow in anticipation and slight dread about what’s to follow.

“Why don’t you put on your gift for daddy?” Steve asks you, except you know it’s not a request.

“B-But I… I don’t think… Steve – I mean daddy – I, uh…” You grimace, your stutter worse than ever. “Please, I d-don’t think I would look good in it.”

Steve smirks, his eyes dark with wicked lust. He presses his lips down against the soft skin of your neck, baring his teeth and grazing them threateningly over your mating gland. He traces your jagged mark with his tongue, and your head falls in submission as your body begins to buzz with an innate need to obey him.

“Put it on, omega.” Steve says quietly against your skin, a threatening edge to his tone as he continues playing with your nipple, “Don’t make me ask you again.”

You stand in front of him fifteen minutes later, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. The lingerie feels soft against your bare skin, but also tight as it pushes up and accentuates your curves. Your butt is practically on complete display, with the bunny tail nestled against your tailbone. The fluffy bunny ears are crookedly attached to your hair (you couldn’t get them straight) and your bare feet tap nervously against the carpet. (Steve always insisted you leave your feet bare – no socks or anything around the house ever).

“Fuck.” His jaw tenses as he looks you up and down, lust-blown navy eyes drinking in your curves as his hand meanders down to his crotch. “You look so hot, baby. Like a slutty little bunny. Keep your hands down to your sides.”

You sigh, lowering your arms from where you’d instinctively pulled them up to cover your chest. Steve’s gaze looks like he’s about to eat you up, with the way he’s staring at you. But what exactly does he see? Because when you’d glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror before stepping out to show him, all you’d seen was an extremely insecure girl who looked very uncomfortable and kind of silly.

“Turn around for daddy, omega. Slowly, so I can see you.”

You do as he says, turning slowly. And you hear a sharp intake of breath behind you, followed by the sound of his zipper.

“Goddamn that little fucking bunny tail. Fuck, baby, you have no idea how sexy you look right now.”

“Th-Thank you– OW!”

Steve smacks your ass hard, and you stumble forward. You’re about to fall but he grabs your arm and yanks you back till you’re standing between his legs. You breathe hard as you brace yourself, your back still facing him. His large hand lands on your ass again, stroking the soft, bare flesh while you quiver under his touch, waiting for the blow.

“You have such a cute little ass, baby. Even cuter with your little bunny tail poking out.” Steve murmurs, his voice thick with lust as he grabs a handful of your ass and gives it a jiggle. “Fuck, this cute little bunny butt is just begging for a slap, huh?”

He slaps your ass again, the harsh sound echoing off the walls as you whimper, held captive by his tight grip.

“C’mon, omega. Tell me to slap your cute bunny butt again. I know you like it.” He chuckles darkly, stroking your sore ass and jiggling it lewdly like it’s a toy for his own amusement. “And say it just like that, say you want daddy to slap your cute little bunny butt.”

You scrunch your eyes shut, glad that you’re facing away from him and he can’t see how mortified you look. But of course, his dirty talk and babying has your slick beginning to drip down to your thighs – the G-string doing nothing to stop it.

“Daddy, p-please slap my cute little bunny butt.” You mumble, thinking about how you’d absolutely die if anyone else saw you like this or heard what you were saying.

Steve moans, giving your ass another firm slap, “That’s a good fucking girl, doing exactly what you’re told just like you always do. You’re a submissive little baby bunny omega aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“And by the looks of it, you’re also a horny little bunny. Can’t help but get wet from a spanking, can you, omega?” Steve smirks, yanking you back into his lap and immediately pressing his big palm squarely against your mound. The thin triangle of lacy fabric barely conceals anything, and the string part of your panties is completely soaked through with your juices. “God, you’re so fucking slutty, baby. I wish the guys could see this.”

Your head jerks up in alarm, “N-No!”

SMACK.

His hand draws back and lands a harsh slap on squarely on your pussy. The wet sound resonates across the room and you gasp as jolts of pleasure spark up your body. You can feel your bundle of nerves tingling at the contact and you whimper and grab his muscular forearm hard.

“Don’t forget your manners, dumb bunny.” Steve flicks your already crooked bunny ears and chuckles darkly, “You can never say no to your alpha. And anyways, I think the guys should see you like this. It’d remind them how they could never have an innocent little bunny omega like you because you’re mine, and all their girls are dumb whores. But not you.”

He dips his head down to capture your lips in a kiss, grabbing your hand in his and squeezing it as he kisses you. And oh, you wish he’d kiss you forever! As depraved as his words and actions are, his kisses are still so passionate, so deep, so wonderful! You sigh and melt into him, enthusiastically kissing him back, trying desperately to get closer to him without making it to obvious. His scent is rich and potent, and you know he’s very turned on as the two of you desperately rut against each other.

“You’re leaking on my jeans, baby omega.” Steve pulls away and laughs, grabbing your hair and not-so-gently pushing your head down to look. Your eyes widen at the sizeable wet spot on his jeans under where you’re sitting.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Steve, I didn’t mean to–”

“Shhh, you’re just a baby bunny, you can’t help having accidents, can you?” Steve says, patting your cheek before pulling it condescendingly. “Tell daddy how baby bunny omegas like you enjoy wetting yourselves all over daddy.”

He seemed to really be into this whole bunny thing – despite the fact that you still felt extremely uncomfortable and silly in the outfit. But Steve looked feral and incensed. He was playing with you on his lap right now like how a predator plays with its prey before devouring it. But you knew you’d be devoured soon, and you knew the animal inside him would take over any second, making him rough and unforgiving as he often got when he was feral and turned on beyond belief.

“B-But I haven’t wet myself like that.” You can’t help but say shyly, because he was acting like it was… the other kind of wet. And you’d never do that. Your juices staining his jeans was mortifying enough for you, but peeing on him? Oh god… You’d bury your head in the ground right then and there.

Steve tickles your side playfully, holding you flush against him when you squirm. And then his eyes take on an entirely new type of glint, and he presses your back to his chest, his hand which was resting on your pussy slipping up to press against your bladder.

“I could make you wet yourself for real, you know.” He says slyly, giving your bladder another hard press while you freeze in fear, looking up at him with wide eyes. He wouldn’t…

He seems to read your thoughts as he snickers, “I mean, imagine what everyone would say if they found out? My cute little baby omega wetting herself and ruining the cute bunny outfit daddy gifted you. Bet you’d be so humiliated, huh?”

He groans at the thought, grinding your body down on his hard, clothed dick as he presses against your bladder again. You whimper, softly begging him to stop but he’s too turned on to even hear you. But even if he had heard you, you don’t think he would’ve listened. All you can do is silently pray that he doesn’t follow through with his depraved ideas.

Steve’s lips press soft kisses down the nape of your neck while he fondles and explores your body. He can’t seem to get enough of the lingerie you have on, tugging your panties and snapping your bra strap against your shoulder blade, laughing cruelly when you yelp. He tugs at the fluffy tail attached to your G-string, all the while making out with you like he’s been starved of touch and contact all day.

Not that you’re complaining.

“Don’t worry, baby omega. We’ll save that for another day.” Steve assures you, giving your bladder one last press and savouring it as he watches you squirm in his lap. “Maybe when we’re in more of a public setting, hm? There’s a party at Ransom’s house tomorrow night, it would be cute to see you piss yourself on my lap in the middle of a crowded room with all my friends watching, huh?”

You don’t answer, instead just looking up at him with a pleading expression, which your alpha ignores as his gaze shifts elsewhere and he grows distracted.

“Fuck, I see you got that pedicure I asked you to get, hm, omega?” Without warning, he manoeuvres you sideways on his lap and grabs your ankle, hoisting your foot up. Your toes gleam with fresh white polish – you’d just gotten them done this morning after Steve had sent you the money and specially requested it. The anklet he gave you (the one which spells his name out) also gleams in the light, making your alpha grin.

“Y-Yeah,” you answer, eager to change the subject. “The pedicurist said that white is the most popular colour to get.”

“It looks fucking hot.” Steve says, yanking your foot up further and pressing a kiss on each of your toes while you gape at him. He did seem to have a fixation with your feet, always grabbing them and massaging them whenever the two of you were together — during sex and even just casually.

You remember once, Steve had called you to sit with him while he watched TV downstairs. And to your absolute chagrin, Bucky and Sam had been there as well. But that hadn’t stopped Steve from grabbing your bare feet and holding them in his lap, massaging and caressing them till you started feeling all tingly and embarrassed. He’d even kissed your toes then, how he was doing now, and you really hoped Bucky and Sam hadn’t seen that. But Steve had soon pulled you into the bathroom to fuck you, clearly having worked himself up by touching your feet.

You’re jolted back into the present when you feel his lips part, and he sucks on your toe sensually, all the while keeping eye contact with you. Oh my… he’d never done that before! You don’t know how to feel about it, but your body makes that decision for you when your pussy throbs and you clench.

“I see you getting wetter, baby.” Steve releases your toe with a pop and shoots you a smirk, “Little baby omega getting turned on by her daddy sucking her toes, just like last time.”

Last time? But you have no time mull over what that means before Steve is manhandling you onto the bed. It takes him two seconds flat till he’s leisurely lying down on his bed, his back propped up against a bunch of pillows. His fingers grip your hips as he holds you in place on top of him.

“Take daddy’s dick out, dumb baby bunny.” Steve orders you, tugging the fluffy tail on your G-string again.

You do as he says, feral desires overtaking your entire being when your hand comes into contact with his cock. He’s hard as a rock and thick as a soda can, your fingers don’t even wrap all the way around him. And he’s so hot and pulsating, so angry and red as you take his fat dick out of his pants.

“Fuck yeah,” Steve hisses, watching your every move as you hold his dick in your hand. “Look at you, such a little fucking baby, staring at my big daddy dick like you don’t know what to do with it. Like you’re a stupid, innocent little baby bunny who’s never seen her alpha’s cock before. Fuck, baby, jack me off.”

You bite your lip, the feral omega inside you taking over as you begin to stroke your hand up and down his thick length. He feels like a steel rod underneath you, and his blue eyes are sharp as they watch your every move.

“Uh…Is this…is this okay, daddy?” You ask.

“God, you’re so fucking innocent, omega. You’d think you wouldn’t be such a fucking baby… You know, since you’ve been taking my dick up your little baby pussy daily for the past month.” He exhales, blowing a tuft of his blonde hair out of his face as he laughs at you. “Spit on daddy’s dick, dumb bunny. And go faster.”

Your senses are buzzing with this feral need to please your alpha. Your mind is clouded in lust and the desire to be submissive for him. It’s encoded in your DNA, and you can’t help but do exactly what he says. Spitting down on his dick, you smear your saliva up and down his length as you pump harder. Wanting nothing more than to make him cum, give alpha the pleasure he deserves because he takes care of you so good, and he’s in charge, and you’ll do whatever he says, and –

“Don’t think I can’t feel your little bunny cunt rubbing up on my leg, omega.” Steve’s voice is thick with lust as he grabs your wrist, taking control of the pace at which you’re jacking him off. You yelp, unknowing your hips have begun grinding down against the deliciously rough material of his jeans.

“S-Sorry,” you squeak, only for your alpha to grab you by the back of your neck and drag your lips to his, capturing them in a heady kiss. His teeth bite at your lower lip, almost drawing blood with the carnal way he’s making out with you. But you can’t help but kiss him back with equal vigour, whining when he pulls away and snickers in your face.

“You know what baby bunny omegas do best, right?” He asks you softly against your lips.

“Wh-What?”

“They bounce on their alpha’s dicks.” Steve answers, giving your ass a lewd squeeze and jiggle. “Can you do that for me, baby omega?”

“Yes, daddy.” You scramble to obey him, turned on so beyond belief that your cream is dripping freely down your thighs, and Steve’s nose twitches as he smells your desire. You reach down to tug your panties off, only for him to slap your hand away.

“Keep those on, baby.” He says darkly, “How’re you gonna be my baby bunny if you lose your sexy little tail, huh?”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know…”

“Turn around for me, omega. Daddy wants to see your sexy tail and your cute little ass bounce. Do it now, before you go completely dumb when my cock splits your baby pussy in half.”

You try to obey him but prove to be too slow, your limbs already feeling shaky and like jelly because of how turned on you are. You can feel your clit throbbing, all puffy and swollen and neglected. Steve huffs impatiently, grabbing your hips and manhandling you till your back is facing him.

In one swift motion, he tugs your G-string aside and sits you down on his dick.

“OH FUCK!” You cry out at the burning pain. You’re so wet but taking his larger than average dick is always a struggle to get used to. Your insides feel stretched out by his inhumane length, and Steve wastes no time in grinding you down on him till he’s stuffed his huge dick all the way inside you, and you can practically feel him in your womb because of how deep he is.

“Bounce, baby bunny.” Steve whispers, grabbing a handful of your fluffy tail and giving it a tug, his other palm colliding with your ass cheek and making you jump. “And make sure to shake your ass on my dick, omega. I know how shy you can be, but you’re a fucking freak in the sheets so don’t make me ask you twice.”

What follows is extremely depraved. You lose yourself in your desire and submission to him, doing every single thing he asks you to do. Fuelled by his praise and his pleasure, you rut back against him, grinding down on his thick dick as it tears up your insides. Bouncing up and down to the best of you r ability, while Steve slaps your ass over and over again, calling you a horny little bunny who can’t help but ride her daddy.

“Good baby,” Steve praises, grabbing a handful of your ass and you know he’s got his eyes trained on where you two meet, his dick sinking in and out of you. “You’re making daddy feel so good, omega. I wish the guys could see you now, dressed up like a slutty bunny and servicing your daddy like the good omega you are. You like making me feel good, don’t you?”

“Y-Yeah – oh, oh my!” you whimper at how deep he is, how the tip of his dick is hitting that special spot inside you so deliciously. How it hurts because he’s so big but it’s a good kind of hurt, a good kind of stretch that makes you desperate for more. Desperate for him to fuck you, and not just have you service him by bouncing on his dick. You need him to take control. “D-Daddy, please!”

“Getting tired already?” Steve mocks, yanking your hair to make you look back at him. You pant and nod helplessly, hoping to gain his sympathy as your muscles begin to ache from bouncing up and down on his thick dick. But he only laughs, pulling your cheek condescendingly, “You gotta tell me what you want, baby bunny. You want daddy to take control and fuck you like a little bunny omega in heat? Like I always do?”

“Y-Yeah!”

SMACK.

“Then use your fucking words, omega.”

“Please, daddy! P-Please fuck me, okay? N-Need you to do it, daddy, please, please, please!” You cry, all dignity flying out the window as you grow desperate, your hands making grabby motions as you needily try to clutch at your alpha. But again, he just smirks and bats you away, giving your ass another hefty smack that leaves you howling.

“Fine. I guess daddy will have to fuck you on your hands and knees like a dumb breeding bunny bitch, and pump you full of my babies, huh, omega?”

His filthy words only turn you on further, and true to his word, Steve has you on your hands and knees in the next few moments. And that’s when he truly goes into jackhammer mode, the only thing keeping you from collapsing underneath him is his arm around your stomach. His other hand grips your hip tightly as he fucks into you like only he ever could. His hips a blur and the steady smacking sound mixed with your cries of pleasure and his name the only sounds bouncing together around the room.

“Goddamit, omega, how the fuck are you still so tight, huh? After I’ve ripped you apart more times then your dumb bunny brain could count.” Steve slaps your ass one, two, three times in quick succession. “Tell me you’re a dumb little bunny who only thinks about getting fucked.”

“ ‘m a dumb – little – bunny – oh, oh daddy! Oh my god!” Your eyes practically roll to the back of your head when you feel his thumb rubbing your clit. You lose your train of thought completely, going limp in his arms as he fucks you like you’re his little rag doll, his little fucktoy. Like you’re just a hole for your alpha to use and abuse.

The coil inside you breaks, and you cum hard. Waves of hot pleasure searing through your body, your pussy clenching and clenching, milking his big dick as he continues to rut into you. Your walls pulsate around him and he lets out a string of profanity, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them hard.

“Stupid little bunny, you just couldn’t hold it in, could you? Fuck!” Steve swears, clutching your butt so hard you know it’ll leave a bunch of bruises. But that’s the last thing you’re thinking about now as you ride through the immeasurable pleasure of your orgasm, and Steve continues to fuck you through it. “Goddamn this tight baby bunny pussy. Fuck, baby, daddy’s gotta keep fucking you. I don’t care if you’re done, baby. Gotta get you pregnant tonight.”

Steve’s insatiable the whole night, fucking you in every position possible. Till your pretty lace bra is torn to shreds by the feral hands of your alpha, and bruises litter your body, and you’re panting and out of breath and covered in your slick and sweat. But Steve is incensed, flicking your bunny tail and growing hard as he comes back for round two, three, four, five – his stamina never ending.

“Gonna knock you the fuck up, baby bunny.” Steve murmurs in your ear, holding you up because you’ve all but passed out from the different ways you’ve been fucked tonight. Your G-string somehow still remains on your body, despite the fact that everything else has been ripped off or broken. “Think you can put this sexy little bunny get-up on for me and not expect daddy to get you pregnant? Fuck, baby, you’re killing me. You’re so fucking sexy and you’re killing me.”

By the end of it, your limbs burn with soreness, and you lie flat on the bed, breathing hard and fucked out into a stupor. Steve, finally giving you a reprieve, jacks off his still half-hard dick (he’d pumped you full of his load three times tonight) while playing with your fluffy bunny tail and your ass, fondling it and smacking it and squeezing it like it was his toy. You even feel his teeth graze against your butt cheek, but you’re sapped of all energy. All you can do is lie there and take it, your poor hole abused and leaking his cum onto the bedsheets.

“You make a sexy little bunny, omega.” Steve tells you, one hand still playing with your fluffy tail while the other meanders down between your legs to swirl his leaking cum around your raw pussy. You whine softly because it hurts, but your alpha pays no heed, shushing you by feeding you his cum.

“I think I’ll dress you up as a bunny when we go to Ransom’s party tomorrow.” Steve muses, stroking your ass sensually. “That way, everyone can see all the new tricks daddy taught you tonight.”

AHHHH THE END!

GUYS. What do you think?!?! PLEASE give me feedback!! i love you a lot mwah thank you for reading!!! pls pls pls reblog n all that, i will love you forever!

#poyt #poyt drabble #steve rogers #chris evans #dark steve rogers #steve rogers x reader

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starminzoo · 6 months ago

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╰─▗ ▘➤𖥸 obsession in the shadows

꒰ risa's note ꒱ was just watching a show and the sudden inspiration hit so i thought why not just write it down but with yunho. I love my pretty boy sm <3 hope you guys enjoy!

warnings: stalking (not cool), fingering, consent (not verbally but it's there), dirty talk, pet names, pervert behavior, threats, creepy behavior (not much) , not proof read

it all started when yunho the quiet yet charming, shy yet talented student from the art department asked you to be his muse for his painting project which was due in 3 weeks. you said yes and how couldn't you, when he asked you in such polite and hushed manner your nearly folded when he said a silent 'please' for you to become his muse. since that day you started visiting his apartment for the project, you always went to his after your classes, first few days were spent in finding a perfect pose, clothes, and sketching. during that you guys made small talk here and there. since yunho was mostly quiet in college and he used to talk when spoken too you were charmed by his voice soft and smooth as you barely talked with him. when you were posing for him he always made sure you were comfortable or you could try another pose, he always kept his distance and remained respectful which drew you more close to him.

the reason yunho decided to choose you as his muse was that he had enough of hiding in the shadows he had enough of admiring you from a distance, he wanted you in his arms, to kiss you, to love you, to make you his, your enigmatic smile, captivating eyes casting a spell over him, at first it was small crush but slowly it turned into a dangerous obsession, he started to study your every move, kept his eyes on every action he started invading your privacy. he had lost count of how many times he had climbed up the window of your room, lost count of how many hours he had spent sitting on your bed, lost count of how many panties he had stolen from you, he knew this was dangerous but did he backed down? no but the real question is that he thought he was the only obsessed one? wrong as his obsession deepens he also started to take in the strange happening around him, his hoodies, sweatshirts and some other things started to vanish one by one,he started to receive love letters in his locker which were really creepy alongside with a black rose, he had gifts left at his door with no address or name, he was not alarmed and just took it as prank until he received a package as usual no name or anything but as he opened it his jaw slightly fell seeing his black hoodie shredded into pieces, he was wearing this just yesterday as he contemplated on his thoughts , his eyes fell on a note opening it he read it "Next time it will be the girl not the hoodie"

you had just arrived back from yunho's house it had been a long day for you and yunho was mostly done with his painting so the sessions had gotten longer to perfect the painting you took a shower and got ready for bed you decided to go commando and just threw a hoodie over yourself and went to bed. the familiar scent lulling you to sleep, it hadn't been long since you started to drift to sleep when you heard some soft rattling outside your window you smiled slightly in your pillow knowing who it was, to make sure the unwelcomed guest doesn't get the hint of you not sleeping you moved to turn on your back slowly while face snuggled in the pillow, few minutes later you felt the bed dip near your feet as he sat down hands landing your naked legs, warming your body up "you look like an angel, so innocent so pretty" his whispered out his words, god you wanted to ruin him so bad and show him how much innocent of a girl you were there was silence for sometimes before he started to drag his hands further up, you pretended to stretch and spread your legs a bit causing your hoodie to ride up providing him with the view of your bare wet cunt "fuck angel no panties today, you are gonna be the death of me" you chuckled in your mind you wanted to test him you wanted to see if he would give in his urges as he never did anything against your will well except for stealing your panties causing you to buy more and more. you heard his breath becoming shallow as he continued to stare at your cunt, you slowly felt a finger press against your clit causing a soft moan to leave your mouth " i am sorry baby so sorry" you wanted him to have you but you didn't wanted him to be guilty of it so you opened your eyes and stared straight at him. "fuck yunho I want you baby please please touch me" you begged in a sleepy voice.

his face became beet red when his eyes made contact with you, he felt so guilty and embarrassed but as he heard your words he was shocked. you were ok with this? you wanted him? were you sure or just in sleep? weren't you going to call the cops on him? he had many questions but when he felt your on his rubbing it against your cunt , he watched you hump his hand as soft moans left your mouth as you did you he sat there shocked but you snapped him out of it quickly "I don't have my legs spread just for you to qawk yun fuck do something please" as you begged him pathetically your whining and lust filled eyes sending blood to his dick. he wasted no more time climbing up on you kissing your lips furiously one hand holding your throat and the other swatted your hands away as he pushed two fingers inside your gaping hole the action ripping a loud moan from your throat as he swallowed it, his fingers scissored you hitting your g-spot. god bless yunho for having long fingers as they drove you insane his lips busy painting another masterpiece on your neck, your hands in his hair as one attempted to get him naked but before you could he fastened the pace of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge you held onto him for dear life, legs threatening to close but he kept them apart with his thighs "fuck you look so gorgeous falling apart for me angel" his name fell from your mouth like mantra as you finally reached your high your legs twitching, around his hips, eyes rolled back from pleasure, while mouth wide open as moans and whimpers left your mouth. yunho pulled out his fingers and put them in mouth "hmm as sweet as i had imagined" he kissed you making you taste yourself on his tongue. you both laid there him on top of you, both too mesmerized by the soft kisses you shared.

after cleaning you up he climbed back in bed removing his jacket and now just in his hoodie. you pulled him close to you snuggling in his scent which was more strong then the one on the hoodie "so what are we now yun" "whatever you want baby" he smiled and softly kissed your head " but wait is that my hoodie" he glanced down at you as you sheepishly snuggled in his chest and giggled " oh god so it was you, my little stalker" "oh don't act like you are innocent ok you climbed up my window several times, stole my panties which were expensive by the way, so if I didn't had my own little obsession with you I would have called the cops on you long time ago ok mister" you retored back as you playfully glared at him, he put his arms up surrending himself before you both fell asleep peacefully in each others arms.

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ssa-dado · 3 months ago

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15 - Epistulae ad Lucilium

Aaron Hotchner x fem!professor!reader Genre: fluff... I think? Summary: Late at night, Aaron struggles to comfort his inconsolable son, Jack. Desperate, he turns to a book and a plush, gifts from you, which momentarily soothe Jack. However, work interrupts as another case calls him away, deepening the rift with his family. At the FBI, the team investigates a series of murders rooted in something up your alley. Warnings: DAD HOTCH DAD HOTCH DAD HOTCH, Haley being mad at him, CM case in detail. Word Count: 9.8k Dado's Corner: Not only did the brilliant mind of @c-losur3 inspired the "dad Hotch" part, but she also gave birth to Aaron "You sound exactly like her" Hotchner. Show her some love! This entire chapter is written from Aaron's POV. Fun fact: when he's with Jack, he’s simply Aaron. But the moment the phone rings, he shifts back into being Hotch. fun, right?

masterlist

It was late into the night, and the house was quiet... save for the soft hum of the baby monitor and Jack’s persistent cries echoing through the walls.

Aaron paced back and forth, cradling his crying son against his chest, his heart sinking a little more with each sob. He had tried everything - rocking Jack, singing lullabies in a low, soothing voice, even walking him in circles around the room. But nothing worked. Jack's cries, relentless and heartbreaking, filled the quiet house.

Jack was inconsolable.

Hotch was no stranger to pressure. He had faced down killers, stared into the eyes of danger, but this? This was different. This was Jack, and the stakes felt infinitely higher.

He had held off on trying this one last thing, but now, he had no choice. He paused, glancing at the small bookshelf in the corner of the room. There, among the rows of children’s books, sat one that he hadn’t reached for yet tonight. His eyes settled on the small brown plushie sitting nearby that had arrived months ago in a giant cardboard box - your gift.

It had been an unexpected surprise, that day. A package too big for the porch had appeared, and if it hadn’t been for the Croatian postage stamp, Hotch might’ve thought it was a mistake. But no, he knew it was from you. You had mentioned in one of your letters that you were off to Croatia for a teaching stint, and he'd expected maybe a postcard or a quick note, but instead, there was this - a large package filled with something quirky, something that was so... you.

When Haley had seen it sitting by the door, she’d raised her eyebrows, eyeing the box with suspicion. “What on earth is that?”

Hotch had smiled faintly, already guessing. “It’s from her.”

Opening the package had been an experience in itself. Nestled inside was the plushie - a strange-looking creature Haley hadn’t immediately recognized. Her brow had furrowed as she picked it up, holding it at arm's length. "Is this... a brown skunk?" she had asked, her tone teetering between amusement and confusion.

But Aaron had found it endearing, charming in that odd, thoughtful way. Attached to the plushie's tag was one of your signature sticky notes, written in your unmistakable blue ink. It read:

"Hi Jack, meet your new friend, the pine marten. I read that humans are the greatest threat to the European pine marten, hope you can prove them wrong. He's a cool guy! He is also the national animal of Croatia (a privilege reserved for a select few). P.S. Here's your first word in Croatian: Kuna. It means marten."

Aaron had smiled at the note, his heart warming as he imagined you carefully writing out those words, taking the time to craft something special for his son. The gift was thoughtful, filled with meaning, as all your gestures were.

But that wasn’t all. Beneath the plush toy lay a small book, its cover adorned with a cartoonish pine marten embarking on what looked like an adventure. There was another sticky note stuck to the front:

"To Jack's parents: Here’s a complimentary book with the pine marten’s adventures. You’ll find translations in English, but I encourage you to try reading it in Croatian. Aaron, if you ever actually attempt it, give me a call. I’m always up for a comedy show."

Haley had chuckled at that, shaking her head. “I always wonder how she comes up with these ideas…”

Aaron, flipping through the book, hadn’t replied, too caught up in your careful handiwork. Each page was thoughtfully illustrated, with colorful hand-lettering in the margins. You had even drawn little pine martens on the sticky notes, making it seem as if they were the ones doing the translating. You’d put so much thought into it that he could feel it in every page he turned.

And somehow, since the day Jack was born, that pine marten plushie had become his favorite - maybe he could feel the love and care that came with it, the way only children could.

Now, as he grabbed the toy and the book, a small glimmer of hope sparked in his chest. Jack’s cries had softened just a bit when he saw the plush marten.

Maybe this would work. It had to.

Aaron sat down in the creaking rocking chair, gently cradling Jack against his chest as he carefully opened the familiar book. The title, "Male Pustolovine Kune Borove", made him smirk as soon as he saw it, the memory of his first attempt at reading it aloud bringing an amused warmth to his chest. The way he had butchered the pronunciation was miserably laughable, even to him. He was certain you had picked it just for that reason, knowing full well he’d struggle, probably just to get a good laugh out of him.

And, knowing you, he was probably right.

"Alright, buddy," He murmured softly, his voice a low and soothing balm as he turned the first page. "Let’s see what Kuna is up to tonight."

Jack’s tiny fingers instinctively reached out for the plush pine marten, gripping it tightly as he nestled deeper into his father’s arms. The gentle rocking and familiar sound of Aaron’s voice seemed to finally calm the little boy, his sobs quieting, his body softening against Hotch’s steady frame. As he read, Aaron’s hand gently brushed through Jack’s soft hair, soothing him further with each tender stroke.

“You know, buddy,” He murmured, more to himself than anyone, his heart swelling with affection, “the person who gave you this book is very special to me, she’s one of the most amazing people I know. Of course," he added with a soft chuckle, “you come first. But she’s right up there.”

Jack, too young to understand the words, let out a soft sigh, comforted by the warmth of his father’s embrace and the gentle rhythm of the story. As Aaron continued to read, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to you. They always did, especially in quiet moments like this. It felt natural, comforting even, to talk to Jack about you - someone who meant so much to him, yet had been far away for so long. Aaron had always wanted you to meet Jack, and speaking about you made it feel as if, somehow, it brought you closer to him, closer to them.

“Did you know,” he whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “she’s accepted a teaching position in Quantico? She could’ve gone anywhere, but she’s coming here. Closer to us. You’ll get to meet her soon.”

A small smile crept across his face as he thought about the letters you’d sent over the years. “Don't look at me like this, buddy, I liked getting her letters, even if she does like to make things difficult for me sometimes,” he said, glancing at the Croatian text in front of him with an amused sigh. “But I don't think I'm going to miss them, not at all. Not when she’ll be close enough to just… be here. And trust me, Jack, you’re going to love her, just like I do.”

Jack stirred slightly, his little hands gripping the pine marten even tighter, as if he already knew who his father was talking about.

He chuckled softly, glancing down at the beloved plush toy in his son’s arms. “You know, you’re inseparable from that pine marten all because of her,” Aaron said, his voice filled with warmth. “And here I am, reading you this story in Croatian... because of her too.”

He paused for a moment, watching as Jack’s eyelids began to droop, his tiny body relaxed against him. He couldn’t help the swell of love that filled him as he kissed his son’s forehead, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You’ll meet her soon, Jack,” He whispered, his voice soft and full of affection. “And when she holds you for the first time, I need you to do me a favor, alright buddy? You have to avenge me,” he said with a playful glint in his eye. “Because she’s never going to miss a chance to mess with me. So, when you’re in her arms, you give her a look - like this,” Aaron made his best serious ‘Hotch’ face, one of his famous stoic expressions. “Make her think you’re onto her.”

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound barely above a whisper in the quiet nursery, but then he leaned in closer to Jack, his voice dropping to a playful, conspiratorial tone. “And listen, buddy,” he whispered, “if she ever starts saying words that sound like ‘Hegel’ or ‘Plato,’ you go ahead and start crying, just like you did earlier. Alright?” He smiled, brushing a gentle hand over Jack’s soft hair. “In the Hotchner household, we’re lawyers, little man. We don’t have time for all that abstract philosophy,” he teased, his grin widening. “You just make it clear to her, no funny business, okay?”

Jack sighed contentedly in his arms, his tiny fingers clutching the pine marten as he drifted off to sleep. He kissed his forehead once more, the weight of the day finally beginning to melt away as he continued to read, the warmth of the moment enveloping them both.

Just then, Haley appeared in the doorway, her hair tousled from sleep and her eyes filled with frustration. "Aaron, is he still crying?" she asked, though her tone softened when she saw Aaron sitting with Jack and the plush marten in his lap. "Are you reading him the brown skunk story again?" she asked, her voice a mix of exasperation and disbelief.

Aaron, too tired to defend himself, simply nodded. “It’s the only thing that works.”

Haley leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching them with a half-smile. “Does it put Jack to sleep, or you, Aaron?”

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed on the side table. The noise cut through the soft moment like a knife, pulling him back into reality. He knew what it meant before he even looked at the screen.

Another case.

Haley’s smile faded instantly, replaced by a familiar frustration that he’d seen in her eyes too many times before. She straightened up, her voice rising just a bit. “Are you serious? It’s the middle of the night, Aaron. You’ve barely been home, and now you’re leaving again?”

Hotch rubbed his forehead, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He didn’t want to go, not tonight. But he had no choice. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, already reaching for his phone. “It’s a new case.”

Haley let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head as she turned to leave the room. "Of course it is," she muttered, her words fading into the stillness as her footsteps echoed down the hall, each step a progressively quieter reminder of the growing distance between them.

Hotch's heart clenched, a sharp ache spreading through him as he stood frozen, watching her retreat.

The nursery felt unnaturally heavier now, the excessive silence thick and oppressive.

He looked down toward Jack, who was still nested peacefully in his arms, his tiny chest rising and falling in the soft, rhythmic cadence of sleep. The gentle glow of the nightlight bathed his son’s face in warmth, casting a tender light over the innocence of his slumber.

The small pine marten, nestled against Jack's cheek, stared back at Hotch with its beady, lifeless eyes, but it seemed to carry a weight of its own, its presence a reminder of the thoughtfulness and care that had come with it, a symbol of the love that lingered even in absence. Jack's fingers clutched the toy tightly, as if it were the one constant in a world where his father’s presence was becoming less and less frequent.

Haley's words, bitter and sharp, lingered in the air like a distant storm, a shadow that refused to leave. And as Hotch stood there, caught between the quiet of his son’s peaceful sleep and the echo of Haley’s retreat, he couldn’t help but feel the vastness of everything slipping through his fingers.

He wanted nothing more than to stay here, to hold his son and be present. But the buzzing of his phone on the side table pulled him back to reality. With a heavy sigh, he glanced down at the screen. His heart sank even further.

“Hotchner,” he answered, his voice clipped with resignation.

As JJ's voice filled his ear with grim details of the new case, the weight of Haley’s words pressed even harder against his chest. It was the same cycle, always the same. Each time he left, Jack would wake up alone, Haley would grow more distant, and the gap between his family and his job would widen. His guilt gnawed at him, a relentless ache that never truly subsided.

But he couldn’t ignore the call.

He never could.

---

Hotch arrived at the FBI building late, his mind still replaying the scene at home, the way Haley had looked at him with a mix of frustration and defeat. The team was already gathered in the briefing room, the fluorescent lights too harsh for the late hour.

He still felt the pull from the nursery, the warmth of Jack’s small body against his chest. But now, here, the weight of duty replaced it. He had to push it aside, at least for now.

“We’ve got six confirmed victims so far,” JJ began, her voice level but laced with tension. “But the local police didn’t connect the dots until the sixth victim. The MO keeps changing with each murder, which is why it slipped through the cracks for so long.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, his mind snapping to the present. “The unsub might be experimenting. They could be evolving, trying to find their signature. Or…” he paused, considering the alternative, “we could be dealing with someone who’s familiar with different methods, someone who knows how to disguise their work.”

Gideon crossed his arms, his expression unreadable but intense, his eyes narrowing as he processed the information. “What’s the timeline?”

JJ scanned her notes, her brow furrowed. “The first victim was found three months ago. Then the second and third within two weeks of each other. But the real concern is the escalation. Victims four through six were found in the past ten days.”

Hotch's mind raced through the details.

Three months.

Three months of missed opportunities. Every minute wasted in connecting the dots could’ve been a life saved. The guilt returned in a wave, a reminder of every moment he hadn’t been there, both at work and at home. He shook the thought off, burying it as deep as he could for now.

He had to focus.

“There’s no clear pattern in terms of location or victim profile,” JJ added, her voice quieter now.

“That suggests escalation,” Morgan said, stepping forward and leaning against the desk, his arms folded across his chest. “The unsub’s confidence is growing. They’re moving faster.”

Reid, who had been staring at the evidence board in silence, finally spoke up, his voice thoughtful and measured. “Changing MOs could mean we’re dealing with someone new to killing - experimenting with different methods. But,” he hesitated, “it could also mean there’s a purpose behind each change. The way the kills are evolving might have a deeper meaning.”

Hotch took a breath, grounding himself in the task at hand. “Gideon, Prentiss, Morgan,” he said, his voice taking on its usual command, though there was a subtle edge of weariness to it. “Head to the latest crime scene, we need fresh eyes on it. JJ, Reid, and I will meet with the local authorities and review their files. Reid, I want you to start working on the geographical profile, see if there’s any consistency in the locations.”

The team moved with purpose, their steps quick and deliberate as they gathered their bags and made for the door. But Hotch lingered, just for a heartbeat longer, rooted in place as a familiar heaviness settled in his chest. The guilt wrapped itself around him like a tightening vine, threading through his thoughts with every passing second.

It wasn’t just the weight of the case that pressed down on him - it was the aching truth that once again, he had chosen this, chosen the relentless pursuit of justice over the quiet, fleeting moments with his son.

He pushed the thought away as best as he could, but the ache remained, a constant reminder of everything he was losing while trying to save others.

---

There was nothing quite like the hollow hum of a six-hour flight to clear his mind, though the thoughts clung to him stubbornly at first, like shadows he couldn't shake.

As the plane crossed the first timezone, the weight of realization settled in: he would never be the husband Haley deserved, not in the way she needed.

By the time they passed the second timezone, another truth pressed against him like a bruise: he would never be the father he wished to be, not enough to erase the empty spaces he left behind.

But it was during the third stretch, as the world below darkened and the hum of the plane grew louder, that he understood the final piece of the puzzle. If he let these thoughts consume him, if he lingered too long in the ache of what he couldn’t be, he would lose the only thing left to him: his ability to be good at this, at the one thing that demanded his whole being.

As the plane descended, Hotch leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. He couldn’t afford to dwell on the cracks forming in his personal life, not now, not with a case like this waiting for him. The moment the wheels hit the tarmac, the emotional turbulence he’d been wrestling with needed to be packed away, stored in a corner of his mind that he could no longer afford to visit.

He was good at compartmentalizing, too good.

By the time he, JJ, and Reid stepped into the stifling heat of the local precinct, Hotch had already shifted fully into his role, his mind sharpening, refocusing on the case that had now become his only priority. The quiet turmoil of his personal life faded, replaced by the pressure of a killer they were struggling to catch.

The exhausted police chief approached them, his face haggard from sleepless nights and the mounting pressure of a case that had spiraled out of control. "We’ve been spinning our wheels on this one," the chief admitted, his voice weary.

He motioned to the evidence board, where the victims' photos were tacked haphazardly, a mess of lives lost without a clear thread linking them. “It wasn’t until the sixth victim that we started connecting the dots, and by then, we were already behind. These murders don’t make sense together.”

Hotch approached the board, his eyes moving methodically from one image to the next. The crime scene photos were brutal: faces frozen in death, bodies contorted, each one telling a different story. He took a deep breath and gestured toward the chief. “What have you got so far?”

The chief’s sigh was heavy. “Every victim is different. Male, female, different ethnicities, different ages. The methods vary too: strangulation, stabbing, blunt force trauma. It’s like we’re dealing with multiple killers, but we know that’s not the case. There’s something linking them, but we can’t find it.”

Reid was already pacing, his eyes flicking from the board to the map on the wall. His mind churned as he analyzed and reanalyzed the positions of the bodies and the evidence scattered before him. His hands traced invisible connections between the dots as he muttered to himself, sorting through the details that still felt elusive.

Hotch turned to Reid, his tone even but commanding. “Reid, what are you thinking?”

Reid didn’t tear his eyes from the board, his voice steady but quick as he processed the flood of information. “At first glance, it seems chaotic. The changing MOs, the lack of a clear victim profile - it all suggests disorganization. But…” He paused, picking up the file of the third victim, and his brow furrowed. “There’s hesitation here. The killer hesitated during the third murder. This wasn’t just random. This murder feels… intentional. Like the unsub was evolving or refining something.”

JJ moved closer, her gaze scanning the file Reid held up. “Intentional how?” she asked, her voice edged with the need to understand.

Reid pointed to the victim’s wounds. “Look at the pattern of injuries. The cuts are precise, controlled. The unsub took their time with this one. This isn’t just about killing, it’s about making a statement. It’s as if there’s a theme here.”

Hotch, his instincts alert, zeroed in on Reid’s theory. “A theme?”

Reid nodded, grabbing the other files and spreading them across the table like pieces of a fractured puzzle. “The first victim,” Reid began, pointing to the photo of a middle-aged man found in an alley, his body aged prematurely, his face drained of life. “Time. He was killed slowly, methodically.”

Hotch continued, understanding that the young doctor was onto something, “His watch was broken, and the time stopped at exactly midnight. He was forced to watch it happen, minute by minute. The unsub was playing with the concept of time, as if controlling it.”

Reid nodded and swiftly moved to the second victim, a young woman found posed in front of a mirror, her body displayed almost like a work of art. “The second victim represents virtue. She was strangled, but the way she was posed afterward - like a Madonna figure - suggests the unsub was making a comment on purity or morality. The unsub didn’t just kill her, they transformed her into a symbol.”

JJ glanced at the photo, her brows knitting together. “So, the killer’s trying to send a message?”

Reid’s voice picked up momentum, his eyes gleaming as he continued to unravel the pattern. “Exactly. The third victim, it’s the theme of friendship. He was stabbed multiple times, but the placement of the wounds shows care. Almost like the unsub was reluctant at first, then deliberately chose each strike. This murder represents betrayal, the wounds symbolizing a broken bond.”

Hotch’s gaze darkened as he took in the significance of each murder. “What about the fourth victim?”

Reid flipped through the files, landing on a young man found at a cemetery, his body arranged as if in sleep, with his hands folded over his chest like a corpse in a casket. “The fourth victim represents death itself. He was already dressed in funeral attire when he was killed. The unsub buried him halfway in a grave that had already been dug, leaving him in a liminal state, neither fully alive nor fully dead.”

JJ’s breath hitched slightly at the thought. “The unsub’s not just killing. They’re staging these murders to symbolize something deeper.”

Hotch’s jaw clenched as he processed the unfolding realization. “And the fifth victim? Religion?”

Reid nodded, pulling up the photo of a woman found in a church, her body draped across the altar, surrounded by religious symbols. “She was killed in the church, posed like a martyr. The unsub’s making a statement about faith, morality, and sacrifice. It’s almost ritualistic.”

Hotch’s gaze sharpened. “And the sixth? Freedom?”

Reid picked up the most recent file, the image of a man found in a wide, open field, his body scattered with wounds, as if he had been tortured for hours. “He was bound at first, kept restrained for days, but when he was finally killed, it was in an open field. The unsub let him go, only to take that freedom away in the end. It’s the ultimate act of control - giving the victim a taste of freedom, then ripping it away.”

JJ stared at the crime scene photos, her expression shifting from confusion to horror. “So, the unsub isn’t just experimenting with methods. They’re following some kind of philosophical framework, each murder connected to a larger theme.”

The word ‘philosophical’ hit Hotch like a trigger, and instantly, his mind began to drift. It was as if that word had become synonymous with you.

He barely registered the rest of JJ's sentence because the moment she mentioned philosophy, his thoughts were no longer in the room.

They were with you.

Over the years, it had become an automatic reflex. Any time the conversation veered toward deep concepts, philosophical debates, or ancient texts, his mind would latch onto memories of your voice, your insights. You were the one who could crack these kinds of cases almost effortlessly. The way you connected with these abstract ideas, how you always found the hidden thread - he could practically hear your voice explaining it, guiding him.

He missed you in moments like this, missed working by your side.

The cases felt heavier without your presence.

Especially now, with you back in Quantico, just within reach but not close enough. It made his itch for your partnership even more acute, more frustrating. You were always the one who could decode the intricacies of a mind like this. He craved your insight, your steady presence, the way you challenged him and calmed him all at once.

He could almost picture you now, sitting at your desk, flipping through files with that slight furrow in your brow as you connected the dots others couldn’t. This case felt like it was made for you, and the itch to call you, to have your insight cut through the confusion like a knife, gnawed at him.

It was more than just missing your professional brilliance, it was the familiar rhythm the two of you had shared, the way you could pick up on each other’s unspoken thoughts with a glance. You had always been in sync, a partnership that felt more like second nature than work.

His gaze stayed fixed on the board, but his mind was far from the room. "Focus on the first victim," he said, his voice low but more urgent than before. "The first kill is usually the most significant. What can you tell us about the theme of time?"

Even as the words left his lips, the thought tugged at him - he needed to call you. You would see what they were missing. And, truthfully, he just wanted to hear your voice again.

But he couldn't.

Not yet.

You were likely teaching, and the last thing he wanted to do was disturb you in the middle of class. Even though it was morning in D.C. and he knew your lessons wouldn’t start until the early afternoon, he could picture exactly what you were doing.

If he knew you well - and he did - you’d be hunched over your desk right now, a double espresso halfway emptied beside you, scribbling down notes for your upcoming lesson. Schemes, summaries, diagrams, anything that would help your students grasp the material. Every scribble was made with the same care and thought you always gave, just like the book you had gifted Jack.

He could see you clearly, writing as fast as you could, racing to keep up with the faster pace of your mind. On topics that especially interested you, your hand would move so quickly that the gel blue ink of your pen would smudge across the page. That was the only imperfection in your otherwise meticulous notes. But to him, even that smudge was a detail he cherished. It was another way you showed your heart and passion, pouring yourself into every word.

He couldn't interrupt that.

Not now. But the urge still lingered, and the longing to share this case with you, to hear your insight, gnawed at him with every passing second.

His attention snapped back to the present as Reid’s voice filled the room, his philosophical lecture flowing uninterrupted. Hotch hadn’t even noticed that Prentiss, Morgan, and Gideon had returned from the crime scene, now quietly listening to Reid’s ideas.

“Time, philosophically speaking, is a concept that has been debated for centuries,” Reid began, his voice steady and thoughtful. “Kant believed time was a construct of the mind, a way for humans to make sense of their experiences. Augustine argued that time is divided into past, present, and future, but none truly exist in the same moment-”

Before Reid could continue, Morgan cut in, shaking his head with a half-smile. “Slow down there, professor. Not all of us are ready for a PhD lecture on time.”

The brief moment of levity brought a faint smile to Hotch’s lips - barely there, just a twitch - but enough for Gideon to catch. It wasn’t the first time Hotch had heard this kind of deep dive into philosophical musings, and the memory was enough to stir something inside him.

You, again.

He could almost hear your voice over Reid’s, see you pacing, effortlessly turning philosophical debates into a practical narrative. There had always been an energy between the two of you, a mental chess game where each new idea or concept clicked together in a way that made even the most abstract notions understandable,at least to those who could keep up.

Across the room, Gideon noticed the change in Hotch's expression, the subtle flicker of something unspoken. He raised an eyebrow knowingly, understanding exactly where Hotch’s thoughts had wandered. He had seen this look before way too often now.

Hotch quickly noticed Gideon’s silent observation, his smile fading as his face hardened back into its usual stoic mask. He stepped toward Reid, signaling him to wrap it up, the professionalism sliding effortlessly back into place. As he passed Reid, he muttered just low enough for him to hear, “You sound just like her.”

Reid paused mid-thought, blinking in confusion. “Her who?”

Hotch didn’t answer.

The room seemed to still for a moment, the tension subtly thickening as the rest of the team exchanged glances. It wasn’t hard to guess who Hotch was referring to. Even though you were never part of the team, your presence lingered in moments like this, your intellect, your connection to him.

Everyone in the room knew it.

Before Reid could press the question any further, Hotch’s phone buzzed again, the sound cutting sharply through the quiet. The vibration echoed ominously against the table, pulling everyone’s attention. Hotch glanced down at the screen, his expression immediately hardening as he read the message.

“Another body,” he said, the grimness in his voice pulling the room back to the brutal reality of their work. His earlier thoughts of you were now pushed to the background, swallowed by the urgency of the case.

The unsub wasn’t slowing down. If anything, the kills were escalating, the pace quickening, leaving them scrambling to piece together the next part of the puzzle. Hotch could feel the pressure mounting, time was slipping through their fingers, and they still hadn’t cracked the philosophical code that would lead them to the killer.

But even as Hotch mentally prepared for the next step, a thought lingered at the edges of his mind: You would have seen it already. You would know what they were missing. It gnawed at him, the need to reach out, to hear your voice offering clarity. But there was no time for that now.

---

At the crime scene, something had shifted. This time, it wasn’t just the brutality of the kill that had the team on edge, it was the new element, a disturbing and cryptic message left behind.

Beside the body, stark against the wet pavement, was a large "X," crudely drawn, yet deliberate in its placement. The symbol, bold and unmistakable, seemed to pulse with meaning, as if it were taunting them, daring the team to uncover its secret.

The victim’s body told a different story: this murder was tied to the theme of lust. Everything about the scene - the suggestive placement of the victim, the meticulous positioning of the clothes, and the intimate nature of the wounds - hinted at the unsub's twisted interpretation of lust. But it was the "X" that radiated significance, a signature of sorts, demanding their attention and indicating a deeper layer to the crime.

Back at the police station, the air buzzed with tension as the team tried to decipher the meaning behind the mysterious mark. Hotch stood silently at the head of the room, his mind swirling with the ideas being tossed around by the team.

Morgan leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and scowled at the photo of the "X" on the evidence board. "What if this unsub’s just messing with us? Like on a treasure map. 'X marks the spot,' right? Could be their way of saying, 'Hey, look here, you're getting warmer.' Could be a taunt."

Reid, pacing near the board, rubbed his chin in thought. "Historically, an 'X' can represent a crossroads, a point of decision. In medieval times, it symbolized judgment - both in religion and law. It could indicate the unsub sees themselves as a judge, perhaps someone deciding the fate of their victims."

Prentiss chimed in, her voice thoughtful, eyes scanning the crime scene reports. "It might even be a form of signature. In some cases, killers leave marks, symbols to claim their work. Maybe it's less about us and more about the unsub marking their territory. This ‘X’ could be their way of saying, ‘This is mine.’"

As the ideas bounced around the room, Hotch remained unnervingly still, his eyes locked on the photograph of the bold "X" scrawled beside the body. The image seemed to pulse with meaning, but the answer eluded him, hovering just beyond reach like a word on the tip of his tongue.

Each theory felt plausible but incomplete, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that didn’t quite fit together. Hotch’s mind churned through the ideas, but something - something vital - was missing.

Gideon, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, finally stepped forward. He watched Hotch closely, noting the tension in his posture, the way his brow furrowed with concentration. Gideon knew Hotch well enough to see when he was wrestling with something more than just the case.

“You should give her a call,” Gideon said quietly, his voice cutting through the murmur of ideas.

Hotch blinked, pulled from his thoughts by the unexpected suggestion. “Why?” he asked, his tone guarded, though deep down, he knew exactly what Gideon was implying.

Gideon’s eyes held a knowing glint, his expression calm but certain. “She’s already a step ahead of us, Aaron. You know how she is. She can see the bigger picture, the themes, the patterns that might be slipping through our fingers. These murders, this complexity... she’ll catch what we’re missing. She always does.”

Hotch hesitated, the weight of your name hanging between them. You were the first person who came to his mind - philosophy had always been your language, and you had a way of translating the abstract into something that made sense, even in the darkest of cases.

But calling you felt so complicated.

“She’s got a lecture at the academy this morning,” Hotch said quietly, his gaze drifting away. “And even if she could help, it would take her hours to go through the files.” His voice softened, as if he were reasoning with himself as much as he was explaining to Gideon.

Gideon raised an eyebrow, his faint smile betraying how far ahead he had already planned. “That’s why I had Garcia send her the files yesterday,” he said smoothly. “She’s been going over them ever since Reid made the connection with the themes.”

He had anticipated this. Of course, he had.

Hotch straightened, the hesitation still tugging at him as he pulled out his phone. The urge to hear your voice, to let you guide them through the confusion, gnawed at him. He dialed your number, his thumb hovering over the call button for a second longer than necessary. The phone rang, and anticipation built with every ring until finally, you answered.

“I was waiting for your call, partner,” you said, your tone familiar and easy, as though no time had passed since you had last worked side by side. Your voice alone brought a sense of comfort, one that Hotch hadn’t realized he needed in that moment.

Before Hotch could respond, he picked up on the faint sounds of a classroom in the background - soft murmurs, the scrape of chairs, and the faint shuffle of papers. Then your voice came through, a bit more formal than usual, though laced with the familiar hint of humor. “Now you’re on speaker. Everyone, this is SSA Aaron Hotchner, Unit Chief of the BAU.”

Hotch’s smile faded slightly, the weight of the situation settling in. “It’s an active case,” he cautioned, his tone firm but gentle, a reminder of the need for discretion. “The details are confidential.”

You laughed, the sound rich and unburdened by the darkness that often filled his days. “I know, I know. But Gideon told me I could bend the rules just this once, and you know that I’m the first one who always wants to play by the book. But sometimes you have to bend the law, because ethics are more important… just don’t write that down in your notes.”

Hotch shook his head, though the faint tug of amusement softened his otherwise stern expression. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured.

Then your tone shifted, growing more serious, more focused. “That ‘X’ isn’t just a letter. The way it’s drawn, the graphics - it’s too condensed. It’s too deliberate to be a regular ‘X.’ What if it’s not a letter at all? What if it’s the Roman numeral for ten?”

Reid, who had been silently pouring over the files, immediately perked up at your suggestion. His face lit up with recognition, as if a light had been switched on in his mind. “Yes! Roman numerals, that makes perfect sense. But why ten? What’s the significance?”

Hotch’s mind whirled as he stared at the photograph again, the symbol suddenly taking on new meaning. “In Roman numerals, ten doesn’t just represent the number, it signifies sequence. It could mean ‘tenth,’ like this is part of a larger series. The unsub could be following some kind of plan or pattern.”

Prentiss, still studying the details, looked up sharply. “What if this is the tenth victim? The police didn’t connect the earlier cases until recently. There could be other victims we don’t know about.”

Gideon nodded, his face unreadable but thoughtful. “That’s possible. The pace of the killings has picked up recently, but that doesn’t mean the earlier victims weren’t just as important. We might be missing the full picture.”

Your voice cut through the air again, focused and clear. “If that ‘X’ is the Roman numeral for ten, then Penelope should start pulling data from unsolved homicides in nearby areas, cases that might have slipped through the cracks. If there are other victims, they’ll be there.”

Hotch didn’t hesitate as he patched the call through to Garcia, his fingers moving swiftly. The line clicked over, and Garcia’s familiar, playful voice came through with her usual flair. “Spank me, teacher. I’ve been a bad, bad girl.”

Laughter erupted in the background on your end - the unmistakable sound of your students, likely stunned at hearing such an exchange from an actual FBI technical analyst. Hotch’s face remained serious, though he could picture the small smile tugging at your lips. You were probably trying your best to let it slide, convincing your students that it never happened and brushing it off as a figment of their imagination.

Or so he thought.

You didn’t let it slide, not at all.

You chuckled softly, your voice warm but teasing. “Penelope, I think we need to keep it professional this time. But if I weren’t engaged, I might just ask you to show me your Python. What do you think? Was that good enough?”

Of course, once again, you proved him wrong.

The laughter from your classroom grew louder, borderline hysterical now, clearly not expecting such a quip from someone like you. Hotch, despite his best efforts, couldn’t entirely suppress the smile tugging at his own lips. There was something about the way you matched Garcia’s banter, unexpected but effortlessly fitting. Still, the reality of the case loomed, pulling him back to focus.

“I knew it! Deep down, you’re a naughty girl just like me!” Garcia shot back, her voice full of mischief before quickly shifting gears. “All right, all right. Let’s get serious. Let’s see what I can dig up.”

As Garcia’s voice faded and the team fell back into their analysis, Hotch leaned back slightly, his thoughts racing. Despite the levity, a sense of weight pressed down on him. The murders weren’t just random - there was a deeper thread running through them, something that tied everything together, but it remained elusive.

“There’s something we’re still missing,” Hotch muttered, half to himself but loud enough for the others to hear. “Something that ties these murders together in a way we haven’t seen yet.”

Your voice came through the speaker again, this time with an edge of intensity. “What if the X isn’t marking the number of victims? What if it’s connected to something literary, related to the theme of that murder - lust?”

Reid, always quick to piece together intellectual puzzles, murmured, “It could be connected to a text, a framework. The killings are following themes, and they might be related to a specific work of literature.”

You continued, your voice growing more thoughtful, “The theme of lust makes me immediately think of Dante’s Inferno - the second circle of Hell, where the lustful are punished.”

Reid’s mind raced, picking up on your line of thought. “Yes! In Dante’s Inferno, the lustful are driven by uncontrollable winds, symbolizing the way they’re tossed by their desires. But… wait…” He paused, pacing in front of the crime scene photos pinned to the wall. “In the fifth canticle of The Divine Comedy, the second circle represents the punishment of lust. Multiply the fifth canticle by the second circle, and you get the number ten.”

Gideon's gaze intensified as he considered the details of the case. "This isn't just a random act. It’s carefully and mathematically calculated," he observed, his tone thoughtful yet troubled. "But something still feels off. The message should be clearer—it’s already masked beneath a Roman numeral. It shouldn’t involve any additional complexity like a multiplication."

Hotch's eyes brightened as the realization hit him, the missing piece finally clicking into place. “What if this isn’t just about the sin of lust?” he said, his voice sharper now with clarity. “What if it’s about the negation of lust? Maybe the unsub isn’t punishing the victims for acting on lust, but for failing to avoid it. It’s not about the act itself, but about their choice not to resist. You live a life of indulgence, and you die for it. But the real question is - how could they have saved themselves? What did they fail to do?”

Suddenly, your voice broke through again, sharp and full of clarity. “Living a life through reason: that’s the real theme of the murder. Epistulae ad Lucilium. Seneca the Younger. In the 10th letter to Lucilium – he talked about the importance of living a life through the stoic ideals, the key is self-control, avoiding indulgences like lust”

The room went silent for a moment as everyone absorbed what you had just said. Reid’s face lit up as he immediately followed your line of thinking. “Exactly! In the 10th letter he mentioned ‘Sed ut more meo cum aliquo munusculo epistulam mittam, verum est quod apud Athenodorum inveni: 'tunc scito esse te omnibus cupiditatibus solutum, cum eo perveneris ut nihil deum roges nisi quod rogare possis palam'.”

It felt like you could see the confused look on each agents’ face, even if you were in Quantico: “That translates to ‘But as is my custom with sending a letter with some small gift, it is true what I found in Athenodes: 'then know that you are freed from all desires, and with it you will come to ask nothing of God except what you can openly ask.'”

You further explained the meaning “For us mortals, it means that when you free yourself from wanting things for yourself, you reach a peaceful state. In this state, you will only ask for things that are good and honest, with nothing selfish or hidden behind your requests. To find inner peace by we need to let go of desires and living with clear intentions.” You paused “Wow Spencer how did you know the entire passage in latin?”

Hotch unintentionally cut off Reid’s response - who had been beaming from your recognition, his boyish grin spreading across his face as he began, “Eidetic memory, I read the entire book when I was only twe-.” But Hotch, ever focused, quickly steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. “Are you saying the unsub is following Stoic philosophy?” he asked, his tone sharp with urgency, seeking clarity in your analysis.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice steady and thoughtful. “The killings are modeled after the teachings in Epistulae ad Lucilium - also known as Letters from a Stoic.” Hotch swore he could hear the hint of a suppressed giggle on the other side of the phone, but you quickly returned to the matter at hand.

“These letters weren’t just philosophical musings; they were moral teachings. Seneca was writing to his student, Lucilium, urging him to live a life governed by reason, virtue, and restraint. Each letter deals with a specific theme - like friendship, time, death, religion, virtue, and freedom. Seneca believed that by controlling our desires and passions, we could free ourselves from the things that enslave us - namely, emotions like lust, greed, and fear. Sound familiar, Unit Chief?”

Before Hotch could respond to your unexpected jab, your tone shifted back to focus on the case. “In these killings, the unsub is punishing people for failing to live up to Stoic ideals. The crime scenes aren’t random at all: they’re deliberate, calculated representations of the failures Seneca warned about. The victim of lust was killed because they lacked control over their desires, which is a fundamental tenet in Stoic philosophy. It’s not the first letter Seneca wrote, and it certainly won’t be the last.”

Reid jumped in, clearly excited by your insight. “Exactly! Each murder is a representation of one of Seneca’s letters. The victim of lust was killed because they didn’t live a life of restraint, but the other murders also follow this pattern. Virtue, time, friendship, freedom, religion, death - they all correspond to themes Seneca explored in his letters. The unsub is picking people who fail to live up to these ideals and killing them as if it’s a lesson.”

Morgan, still crouched beside the latest crime scene photo, looked up, his expression darkening as he tried to connect the philosophical themes with the brutality of the murders. “So we know why the unsub is killing—to punish people for failing these ancient ideals. But how does this help us catch them?”

You spoke again, the gears in your mind turning quickly. “There’s something else you need to consider. If these murders are following Seneca’s teachings, then we know there’s a deeper message behind each kill. Seneca’s letters were instructional, they were lessons written for his student, Lucilium. So if we think of these killings as lessons, then it’s possible the unsub isn’t just acting alone. They’re teaching someone.”

JJ frowned as she processed your theory. “A message... to who? Who’s the student in this scenario?”

Gideon, who had been silently contemplating the unfolding theory, stepped forward, his voice grave. “The unsub is taking on the role of Seneca, but every Seneca has a Lucilium. They’re not just killing; they’re teaching someone. These murders are lessons, each one showing their ‘student’ how to live, or rather, how not to live.”

Hotch, his mind racing with the implications, pieced it together quickly. “So there’s a ‘Lucilium’ out there, someone the unsub is guiding. Someone they’re grooming, possibly teaching how to kill.”

Prentiss straightened, her face hardening as the realization sank in. “Which means we’re not just dealing with one unsub. There’s a mentor and a student. Seneca is teaching Lucilium to follow this twisted moral code.”

Hotch stepped back from the evidence board, his brow furrowed as the weight of the case began to fully reveal itself. “We’re looking at two unsubs. The one we’ve been calling ‘Seneca,’ who’s leading these murders, and a second unsub, ‘Lucilium,’ who is learning from them. The second person is still in training, which means we have a chance to stop them before the lessons are complete.”

There was a heavy silence in the room as the team absorbed the gravity of the situation. The realization that they were up against not just a killer, but a teacher guiding an apprentice, added an entirely new layer of urgency to the case.

You broke the silence again, your voice more serious than before. “If you find ‘Lucilium,’ you’ll find Seneca. But there's more. In Epistulae ad Lucilium, Seneca also discusses two more themes that haven’t yet appeared in the murders: slavery and the crowd. If the unsub is following the structure of Seneca’s letters, then we know what to expect next.”

Gideon, always focused on the broader picture, spoke with quiet authority. “If Seneca is teaching Lucilium how to kill, it means Seneca has a criminal record. No one just starts teaching murder out of the blue. Garcia, start running a search for known offenders with a background in philosophy, particularly Roman and Stoic philosophy. Look for connections between any of these offenders and known students or proteges.”

Garcia’s voice crackled through the speaker, her usual lightheartedness replaced with focus. “Already on it, boss. Cross-referencing every offender who’s mentioned Seneca, Stoicism, or anything close. I’ll narrow it down as quickly as I can.”

---

Back in his office, Hotch sat slumped in his chair, exhaustion pulling at his every muscle. The scattered papers in front of him were neatly organized, but his mind was a tangled mess, caught in the lingering grip of the case.

This one weighed heavier than most, the usual closure that came with catching an unsub evading him. They had barely stopped him in time, so close to another life being stolen under the theme of slavery. The image of what could have been haunted him, the brutal calculation of the murders, the way each victim had been a lesson, twisted and final.

Hotch's weary eyes drifted toward the window, where the darkness of the night had now just settled in, casting heavy shadows across his office. The weight of the case pressed down on him - how close they'd come to failing, the lives that had hung in the balance. It wasn’t just the exhaustion in his bones, but something deeper, a quiet, lingering ache that refused to let go.

The near miss with the last victim, the theme of slavery still fresh in his mind, gnawed at him in a way most cases didn’t. Just as the silence became suffocating, a soft knock at the door broke through, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. Without looking up, his voice low, he said, “Come in.”

He assumed it would be Gideon. They still had loose ends to discuss, details of the case to tie up before the night slipped any further away. He braced himself for another long conversation, expecting Gideon’s familiar, steady presence to fill the room.

The door creaked open, and someone stepped inside. Hotch didn’t glance up at first, still scribbling notes on the corner of a file. But the sound that followed wasn’t the shuffle of Gideon’s footsteps. Instead, there was a lightness, a familiar cadence, and Hotch frowned in confusion.

“Jason?” he asked, looking up, only to freeze as his gaze met yours.

You stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. “You really thought I was Gideon? You’re slipping, partner.”

For a second, he was caught off guard. He offered you a soft smile, one that came more easily than expected. “I wasn’t expecting you.” he said, his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

You sauntered in and sat down across from him, the easy confidence in your posture disarming him further. “Well, you should always expect the unexpected from me, right?” you teased, your smile growing.

Hotch chuckled softly, the sound surprising even himself. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this, missed you. He’d been so focused on the case, on the mission, that he hadn’t let himself dwell on it. But now, sitting across from you, the memories of all those years working together rushed back, hitting him harder than he anticipated.

Hotch’s gaze softened, but there was a heaviness behind it. “Your help was crucial. We never would’ve figured it out without you. The connections, the philosophy, it was all you.”

You waved him off, shaking your head as if brushing aside his praise. “Reid deserves the real credit,” you insisted. “He’s the one who picked up on the themes firsthand. I just... connected the dots. Besides, I was only on the phone. You and the team did the real work.”

But Hotch wasn’t about to let you downplay your role. “You did more than connect the dots,” he said firmly, his eyes holding yours. “You always see things others don’t.”

For a moment, your teasing demeanor faltered, replaced by something softer, more sincere. You held his gaze, and for the first time since you’d walked in, the banter between you faded into something deeper.

You broke the silence first, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Careful, partner. Compliments like that might go to my head.” The dynamic between you two had always been one of mutual respect, even if it was sometimes hidden behind teasing and banter. Now, after all these years, it felt even more significant.

His expression softened even more, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as well. It was in moments like this that he realized how much he missed you being a constant in his life. Even though you were closer now, taking a teaching position at Quantico, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough. The case had stirred something in him, made him realize that the distance between you wasn’t just physical.

“So,” He asked after a moment, his curiosity piqued, “what brings you here? Shouldn’t you be celebrating, considering we finally cracked the case?”

You raised your eyebrow, giving him a look as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “I’m here for the paperwork, of course.”

He blinked, taken aback. “Paperwork? You helped us close the case; there’s no need for you to be bogged down with reports. I won’t let you do that.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head as you leaned forward. “Oh no, partner. I deserve to fill out each one of those reports, especially since I might’ve bent a rule or two helping you out under the pretense of ‘teaching material.’” You gave him a cheeky grin, but he could hear the seriousness beneath your words. You weren’t just here to wrap things up, you wanted to take accountability.

“I already told you,” He said, his voice firm but warm. “It’s my team, my case, and I’ll take full responsibility. I’m not going to let you do the paperwork for bending a few rules.” He was firm in his stance, not wanting to drag you into the mess of administrative fallout.

But of course you didn’t back down. “Arguing with me is a waste of time, partner. Let me do the paperwork. We both know if you let me handle it, you’ll get out of here sooner.”

Before he could protest, you leaned in with a grin that hinted at something more. “And if you get out of here at a decent time, you, Haley, and Jack can come over for dinner. Pete’s been looking forward to meeting you two after all this time, and I’ve been dying to meet Jack.”

He froze for a moment, surprised by the invitation.

Dinner?

With you and Peter?

The thought had never crossed his mind, and yet, hearing you suggest it now sent a strange warmth through him. “Dinner? You never mentioned this.” he echoed, his eyebrows raising in surprise.

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Yes, Aaron. Dinner. Pete’s already planned it, and I figured using food was the best way to bribe you into giving me those reports.”

He chuckled, a warmth spreading through him at the thought of the invitation. “Dinner, huh? What’s on the menu?”

You gave him a smug look. “A few Mediterranean recipes I’ve been perfecting. Trust me, you’ll love it.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You’re not going to poison me, are you?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’ll never know unless you hurry up and let me help with those files.” The tension between you broke, and he shook his head, smiling. But before he could respond, you added, “Want to bet I can finish the paperwork faster than you?”

He leaned forward, his voice playful now, catching onto the game. “And what happens if I win? You’ve never beaten me in a bet before.”

You leaned in just a little closer as well, close enough for him to catch the soft, fading notes of your rose perfume, lingering faintly after a long day. There was a glint of mischief in your eyes as you matched his tone, voice low and teasing. “You tell me.”

Without missing a beat, Hotch's playful expression shifted, his eyes growing more serious, though there was a flicker of anticipation that softened the weight of what he was about to say. The words came out before he could second-guess himself, as if they'd been lying in wait, building with every shared glance, every passing moment between the two of you.

“If I win,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, something vulnerable, “you come back to the BAU. You work with me again, together.”

His heart thudded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the space you had left behind when you had gone, a void he had tried to fill but couldn’t.

He hadn't expected the words to feel so heavy once they were out in the open, hadn't realized how much he wanted you back, not just for the casework, but for the way you steadied him, the way you saw through the layers he kept so tightly wrapped around himself.

He watched your grin slowly fade, your eyes searching his as if you were weighing everything, and for a moment, he wondered if he'd pushed too far, revealed too much. But then he remembered the years you had spent together, the unspoken trust, the way you could read him just as easily as he could read you.

The silence stretched between you, thick with shared history and unspoken feelings, until finally, you broke it.

“We’ll see, Aaron,” you said quietly, your eyes holding his. “We’ll see.”

---

taglist: @beata1108 ; @cuddleprofiler ; @c-losur3 ; @fangirlunknown ; @kyrathekiller ; @lorereid ; @lostinwonderland314 ; @prettybaby-reid

Dado's Corner pt.2: Here's a pic of Kuna the pine marten - aka Jack Hotchner's fav plush toy

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #hotch #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year ago

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Ravel

A Seams Christmas special oneshot | Moodboard

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: T

Summary: Joel swings by yours with a little something before Christmas dinner at Tommy and Maria's.

Warnings: Unapologetic fluff and softness, inspired by this ask from @casssiopeia from the beginning of the year, no use of Y/N, very lightly edited

Word count: 2k

Notes: I'm so proud of writing up this little drabble. I've been in such a weird place with my writing, I'm just happy to end the year on a creative high. Obviously, I'm a few days late to Christmas, but better late than never!

There is a voice in my head telling me that this isn't good enough, that it doesn't hold up to what I was writing earlier this year. But I need to rewire my brain. There is no such thing as 'good' or 'bad' when it comes to fanfiction. All fanfiction is good fanfiction. This is our hobby, not our jobs, and we need to be kind to ourselves.

I am posting this at 11:59pm on New Year's Eve. Happy new year y'all, I hope Joel and Pin can bring you some festive cheer ❤️

Joel is this close to have a fucking breakdown.

He would measure out how close this is between his thumb and index finger if they were not currently tangled in webs of yarn, rapidly unravelling from from the bottom of what is supposed to be a sweater.

Your sweater.

The book that Lucy lent him months ago lies on the table before him, the pages yellowed and dogeared, open at the the easiest pattern of the lot to knit - a simple pullover in chunky yarn, in your favourite colour.

Well, it was supposed to be easy, anyway.

Despite Lucy basically holding his hand throughout the whole project, he’s had far less time than anticipated to work on it. Too many nights he finds himself at Tommy and Maria’s, elbow deep in dirty baby’s clothes and diapers, making himself useful for whatever needs to be done around the house.

Even Ellie chips in without being asked, often bringing back food from the canteen and making sure the severely sleep-deprived adults are eating, if not well fed. Joel honestly doesn’t remember how he did it with Sarah as a clueless twenty-something, with an even more clueless younger brother.

As he attempts to free himself from the quagmire of wool, he grimaces at the stiffness all over his body, feeling it especially in his back after sleeping in an armchair all night with a rapidly growing two-month old.

He’s too old for this shit - but there’s no saying no to the little rascal with Tommy’s nose and Maria’s eyes.

The knitting needles clatter to the floor when he jumps at the front door opening and slamming shut, a frustrated fuuuuuuck slipping past his gritted teeth.

Ellie’s voice rings out loud and clear as she scampers up the stairs, getting progressively louder until she’s outside his study. ‘Hey! Did you remember to put the potatoes in the oven? We have to leave for Tommy’s in an hour - dude, what the fuck is happening?’

‘What do you think is happenin’?’ he growls.

Crossing her arms, Ellie leans against the doorframe wearing a far too amused expression. ‘Maria said no gifts.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘It’s not for Maria.’

The teenager squints, perplexed, at the bits of wool in his hands. ‘What is that meant to be?’

‘... A sweater.’

Ellie bites her bottom lip, holding in a poorly concealed giggle. ‘I think a sweater is meant to have sleeves.’

‘You think?’

‘Want me to go get Lucy?’

With a heavy sigh, he mutters, ‘Fine.’

At the arch of her half-eyebrow, Joel adds begrudgingly, ‘Please.’

Ellie grins, sneakers skidding on the floorboards as she takes off. ‘Hang in there, old man!’

Despite the cold, his palms are sweaty, sticking to the kraft paper wrapped haphazardly around the even more haphazard package clutched tightly in his right hand.

The night air mists before him in puffs of white as he shuffles a path through the falling snow. His ears are tingling from the cold, and flexing the stiff, frozen tips of his fingers, Joel knows he should’ve worn his gloves. They weren’t in their usual place by the door though, and he was so frazzled that he barely got his shoes tied up before dashing out the door, sending Ellie ahead with the potatoes (that are definitely undercooked) to his brother’s.

Your cottage glows yellow and orange in the darkness, and your stairs no longer creak when he trudges up them, having fixed them just in time before the first snowfall.

He hears your footsteps come from deep within this house when he knocks. Your eyes are wide when your door cracks open tentatively, but then your lips curve into a smile - the smile that he takes with him and keeps him warm when he has to leave Jackson for days-long patrols.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, ushering him inside, not batting an eye at the snow he tracks inside. ‘I thought we were meeting at Maria’s.’

Pressing a kiss to your lips, he softens at the way you lift your face towards him to catch it, careful to keep the parcel out of sight behind his back. ‘Yeah, we were, but thought I’d see if you need a hand with anythin’.’

‘Such a gentleman,’ you tease.

A low fire burns in the hearth, the wood he chopped for you in the fall stacked in a tidy pile next to the mantelpiece. Sweeping his eyes across the living space, he spots the book with the cracked spine that he reads when he’s here on the coffee table, next to yours. On the other side of the couch is the Christmas tree that he cut for you, and he watched you dress it up in tinsel and fairylights one night after a quiet dinner and before hot cocoa under thick blankets.

He likes seeing himself at your home. In the things he does for you; in his things, casually scattered around - like they belong in your space.

‘The pies are in the kitchen, could you please put them in a bag?’ you ask. ‘I’ll just grab my coat and we can go.’

‘Sure, sweetheart,’ he answers, waiting until you’ve disappeared into the bedroom before setting down the present under the tree.

He’s leaning against the back of the couch when you pop back in, a few layers deeper than when you left him, the pies nestled safely in a carrier bag by his boots.

‘Shall we?’ you ask brightly.

Joel hesitates, wondering if he should wait until after dinner to tell you about the present. It only takes his eyes darting to the foot of the tree for the briefest moment for you to catch on. The slow smile that stretches your cheeks and lights up your eyes warms him from the inside out.

You cock your head to one side, playing coy. ‘What’s that, Joel?’

He shrugs, feigning cool. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and find out?’

His chest physically swells at the way you dash towards the tree, landing on your knees in uncharacteristic recklessness, the impact only softened by the rug underneath. You cradle the lumpy package to your chest like something precious. ‘You got me a present.’

He settles on the end of the couch next to you, his heart beating harder in his ribcage than he’d like to admit. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart.’

You frown at him. ‘Why?’

‘You’ll see, but I wanted to give it to you anyway.’

You open the package carefully, as if it was wrapped in the fancy paper people used to buy at the shop. Joel holds his breath when you peel it away to reveal what’s inside.

He’s far too inside his own head to hear your inhale that sounds a lot like wonder. You pick up the sweater gently, shaking it out, and Joel winces when he sees it in the flicker of the firelight.

Disastrous doesn’t begin to cover it. Lucy managed to connect the sleeves to the shapeless body in a last-ditch salvage attempt, but one is clearly longer than the other. The stitches are untidy, some have obviously caught onto something and pulled loose. Rough around the edges is putting it kindly.

Joel wants to reach out, grab it, chuck it into the fire and let the flames swallow it whole.

Finally, the silence gets the better of him, and he blurts out. ‘I’m sorry.’

You stare at him, stunned. ‘What?’

Under his whiskers, his cheeks flush in embarrassment, and he rambles, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinkin’. You deserve better sweetheart, here, let me -’

You almost lose your balance keeping the sweater out of his reach. ‘Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.’

Confused, he watches you rise to your feet, shucking your outer coat and another layer. ‘What are you doin’?’

Grabbing the sweater, you slide it over your head and thread your arms through the sleeves. The soft knit drapes over your curves, too big over your shoulders and the hem falling unevenly, higher on the right side than the left. One sleeve is long enough to cover half your hand, while the other sits right on the wrist.

And yet.

You’re beaming like you just picked up something at Bloomin’dales or whatever the fuck those department stores were called back then.

‘I love it,’ you declare, no trace of irony in your voice, as hard as he’s trying to find it.

He scoffs in disbelief. ‘C’mon, sweetheart, you’re just sayin’ it -’

You surprise him, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and dragging him towards you to plant a firm kiss on his lips.

‘I love it,’ you repeat slowly, with conviction, as if willing him to believe you. ‘Thank you.’

He doesn’t quite still, but he smiles and kisses you back. ‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’

‘Since we’re doing this -’ you trail off, sliding out of his grip to reach around the back of the tree, pulling out a neatly wrapped gift. ‘This is for you.’

Joel pauses.

For him.

For the longest time, nothing had been for him unless it was soul-crushing grief and pain.

And yet here it is - his name on the tag written in your neat handwriting. Something he can hold in his hands. For him.

His fingers tremble when he reaches out. The package is soft, and the paper crackles under his grip. He all but tears it open, uncaring of the way the wrapping falls to the floor.

A laugh bubbles out of his throat, and you look relieved at his reaction. ‘You like it?’

It’s not quite a Santa hat. It’s a chunky dark red beanie with a white brim folded back, and topped with a white pompom.

‘My ears were so cold walkin’ over. It’s perfect,’ he says, pulling it over the crown of his head. Of course, it fits just right, sliding soft and warm over his ears. He adds with a wink, ‘Y’know what, I might just shimmy down some chimneys after dinner.’

‘As long as you shimmy down mine too,’ you retort, not hearing the euphemism.

Joel quirks an eyebrow at that, one large palm squeezing your backside through the layers. ‘That an open invitation, sweetheart?’

You duck your head, more out of habit than actual shyness, with mischief in your smile. ‘Don’t be so crude, Joel Miller.’

Adjusting his new hat so that it sits comfortably, he points at the pompom and jokes, ‘Shame I can’t wear this on patrols.’

Right on cue, you hold up a finger. ‘Funny you should say that.’

He chuckles when you pull out a second, plain black beanie, as if out of thin air. ‘You really thought of everythin’, sweetheart.’

You shrug playfully. ‘I’m smart like that.’

‘I know you are,’ he smiles.

‘Merry Christmas, Joel.’

His lips find yours again in a slow, lingering kiss that has you leaning into him for more when he pulls back. ‘Thank you. For everythin’.’

You hold his gaze - heavy with meaning, light with joy. It wouldn’t take more than a tilt of the head towards the bedroom to derail your evening plans, and you both know it.

In the end, you’re the one who stays strong. Taking one step back from his warmth, you reach for your coat. ‘We’re late, we should go.’

His eyes widen. ‘Wait - you’re not wearin’ that to dinner are you?’

‘Of course I am,’ you say, buttoning up your coat over the sweater.

‘You don’t have to, sweetheart,’ he almost pleads with you.

You grin, heading for the door, blowing out candles as you go. ‘Too bad, I’m never taking it off.’

Joel shakes his head with a wry huff. ‘Well, I hope not never -’

You have one foot out the door when you suddenly remember. ‘I almost forgot - you left your gloves here last time. They’re in the cupboard by the door.’

Ah, that’s where they went. He opens the drawer and pulls them on, one after the other, the leather, worn smooth with age, creaking as he wraps his fingers around the handles of the carrier bag.

Joel is about to follow you out the door when he pauses over the threshold. Glancing down at the black beanie in his grasp, he reaches up and hooks it on the coat rack, nestled among your clothes.

He hopes that when the time comes for him to wear it for the first time - maybe on a patrol that will take him away from you for a few days - it will smell like you.

Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics ❄️

More notes: I hope I will return to the main series in the new year. I've missed these two lovebirds, I hope you enjoyed this little interlude! ❤️

#fuckyeahseams #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic #joel imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #goodbye 2023

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barama-grw-blog · 7 months ago

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Feeling chilly.... embrace the essence of the Winter Solstice, June 21st, with gifts inspired by the wondrous beauty of nature.

Picture this: delicate packages woven from earthy natural jute, adorned with a rich tapestry of greenery or nestled within a cozy hamper tray or magnetic gift box. Imagine filling these vessels with the bounties of the earth, such as comforting foods, preserves, and fragrant natural teas, each carefully selected to warm both body and soul during the chilly season.

As you assemble these gifts, don't forget the finishing touches that truly elevate the gifting experience. Select a vibrant, colourful ribbon to encircle the package, perhaps in hues reminiscent of the winter landscape, to add a delightful visual flourish. And let's not overlook the power of words—include a heartfelt message on a beautifully crafted gift card, spreading a message of warmth and nourishment to your recipient.

#winter solstice #barama #gift packaging #gift packaging inspiration #gift box #ribbons #hamper #gift card

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artofmaquenda · 2 months ago

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If you're searching for nature-inspired, pagan, or macabre-themed gifts this year, now is a great time to order! To ensure your international packages arrive on time, it's best to place your order before December 2nd, based on the timeline provided by my postal service. :) https://artofmaquenda.etsy.com

#art #artofmaquenda #animal art #spiritual art #athro #anthro #pagan #pins #watership down

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leviraaaaaa · 1 year ago

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"Coffee? This shit's expensive."

You reached for the packet that was sitting on top of the desk, surprised. Coffee was for rich nobles, not for soldiers with meager pay. Levi swatted at your hand.

"Don't touch my shit."

"What?" You took back your hand, pouting at him. "I was just saying."

Levi shot a glare at you, irritated. "Why don't you just shut up and go back to your work? My possessions are none of your business."

You groaned, eyes flicking to the empty papers in front of you that you were supposed to write reports on. "But I've been working for hours. My fingers hurts. Let me take a break."

"Stop being dramatic.

"I'm not being dramatic. You're being dramatic." You mumbled, again reaching for the package. He didn't try to stop you this time. He only glanced, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, then going back to working. You were stubborn as fuck and he had learnt long ago telling you not to do something only inspired you to do the opposite, specially when you realized it pissed him off.

"Where the heck did you even get this?" You flip the packet, eyes widening at the price. It wasn't just expensive, it was super expensive. Levi sighed.

"Must you be so nosy all the damn time?"

"Yes." You nod, eager to know. You weren't going to let it go until you got answers. You were stubborn that way. And his unwillingness only made you all the more interested.

Or maybe you just loved pissing him off. It was amusing in a way.

Your crude captain barely ever showed emotions, so you'll take what you get. Even if the only emotions he has the capacity to display is annoyance and frustration.

Getting him riled up was perhaps, the highlight of your day. Only source of entertainment ment in the four walls of this boring facility.

What made it all better was, he'd grumble, he'd complain, he'd spew curses under his breath, but he'd still let you stick around. And he'd rather die than admit it, but it made you think that perhaps, he didn't find you as 'unpleasant' as he says he does after all.

"I didn't get it." He responded irritatedly, eyes on the papers.

"Huh?" You tilted your head, not satisfied. "What do you mean? What, this packet just grew legs and started walking and came all the way up over here? Plus, I didn't think you even like coffee. I only ever saw you drink tea–"

"You talk too much."

"Okay but," You ignored his little snide remark. "No, but this is premium quality and you haven't even opened it yet. Why'd you get it of you won't have it?"

"I didn't get it." He repeated. "And I don't like coffee."

"Thought so." You nodded. That's also another reason you were surprised to see the packet. He loathed coffee, you knew. Even though the cheap shit served in the cafeteria was truly repulsive, you would chug it down without hesitation. And the face Levi made every damn time was worth it all. That's how you learnt the bitter captain surprisingly hated the bitter drink.

"So if you're not gonna have it, can I have some? Because I'm falling asleep."

"No. I can't stand the smell of it."

"Of course you don't." You scoffed. "You drink your tea just fine though. In my opinion, that tastes more horrible."

"I didn't bring you here to comment about my drink preferences."

"Volunteering. Because you have shit preferences and someone needs to let you know–"

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No." You grinned. "Where'd you get it captain?"

"If I tell you, will you shut up?" He looked up, exasperated.

You pretended to consider. "Perhaps."

He glared at you.

"Okay I might." You nodded. "No promises, but I might. Go on, tell me."

He stared at you skeptically, weighing his options of either answering your questions so that you'd let it go or smack you in the face with the heavy file. He was seriously considering the latter at this point.

Then he sighed.

"I just know this is gonna make this worse." He muttered. "If you must know, it was a gift."

"A gift?!" Your jaw dropped.

"Captain! Who gifted you something so expensive? Don't tell me you have a secret lo-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter." He snapped, cutting you off before you could say it.

"Okay." You raised your hand in mock surrender. "Okay. No secret lovers got it. Who was it then?"

He pinched his nose bridge closing his eyes. Bracing himself for the shit you were going to give him after what he's going to say next.

"Some random Garrison Regiment Squad leader I think. Captain sova or shiva or something of that sort. Carried some heavy loads for her and then she got all soppy and grateful and wanted to express her thanks, despite my insistence that I despised coffee." He explained, ignoring the change on your expression with every word. Dear walls, he can practically hear the screws turning in your head.

"...no way." You gaped at him.

"How expensive is this shit anyway?" He reached for the packet, curiosity poking him at the genuine disbelief in your face.

"50$?" His eyes widened, brows raising. He had no idea gratitude for helping out was worth that much.

"You're just noticing it now?!" You were absolutely appalled.

"I told you I have no interest towards coffee." He said defensively.

"But– how could you not?"

"Because it's insignificant?"

"It's–" You weren't sure whether you should laugh or cry. "Have you heard of the term, 'curiosity'?"

"I simply don't care. I have way too much in my plate to sit around and observe the price of a coffee package. Have I mentioned that I loathe coffee?"

"Jeez, it was a gift. You could at least pretend to care."

He only raised an eyebrow.

"I mean..you might not have a lot of interest in coffee," You said. "But she sure sounds as if she had much interest in you."

"She? The captain?" Levi furrowed his brows, clueless.

"Yes?!" You were even more confused to see his confused expression. "Who else would I talk about?"

He shook his head. "You're misunderstanding. She was just grateful."

"Grateful because you helped her heave heavy things? So she pays you back with 50$?"

Levi pressed his lips together, considering your words. Now that he thinks about it... no it's just you making the situation more than it is.

" .... How am I to know what she was thinking?" He said finally.

You rolled your eyes. "Well.." You asked after a while. "Did she try to express her gratitude in..any other way?"

"You're not gonna drop this, are you?"

"Are you kidding?"

"Of course you won't, you nosy little shit." He sighed. "She sent me a letter last monday."

You almost fell out of your chair. "You're telling me this now?!" You demanded. "What did she say?" Half of your body was practically on the desk, you were so leaning forward so much in excitement

"You're hopeless." He shook his head at the gleam in your eyes. "Not everything is drama. She only thanked me and asked if she could treat me to dinner some night."

It was how he said that with a straight face that got you. The lack of interest, the blank expressions, it all added up.

You sat back down in silence as you realized that he wasn't really trying to deny anything because he was flustered.

He simply had no fucking idea.

"Captain. Just..how dense are you?" You asked softly, almost in awe. How a man like him could be so clueless you had no idea.

"Watch your mouth, brat."

"No offence meant." You said casually, setting his irritated words aside, too invested to give a fuck. "But did you say yes?"

"To what?"

"The dinner proposal? What else?"

"Of course not." He looked surprised you even considered the idea. "Do you have any idea how busy I am? And it's annoying. She's acting as if I saved her life and now she owes me a life debt."

You internally sent words of sympathy to the unfortunate woman. Girlie couldn't have picked a worse person to flirt with.

"Oh poor her."

"What poor her?"

"Captain. Do you seriously...not realize that she..asked you out..?"

He stared at you for a few seconds, ears growing red. "Bullshit." He muttered.

It took every bit of your effort to hold back the laugher bubbling in you. It was already difficult enough to keep a straight face. He looked so embarrassed it was hilarious.

You wondered how many girls had ever flirted with him like this and he had no fucking idea, probably shook it off thinking they were just being nice. How many hearts has he broken without even realizing it?

"Well, was she pretty at least?"

He shot an incredulous look. "I can't even remember her name, and you think I memorized her face?"

"Huh. Fair enough."

A giggle escaped you despite your hard efforts to hide your amusement. That seemed to have embarrassed him more.

"Don't laugh. There's nothing funny here."

"Oh if only you knew exactly how hilarious it is." You grinned. "I'm like two seconds away from losing it."

"I will hit you if you don't stop laughing."

You pursed your lips, the corner of your mouths still quirking up.

"Captain."

"No." He cut you off. He was tired. He was embarrassed. He was flustered. He had zero desire left to talk with you and he was fully aware nothing that ever comes out of your mouth is pleasant.

But of course you ignored him.

"Have you ever even been on a date?"

He groaned, cursing internally. This is the last thing he wanted to talk about today.

"You have no sense of privacy." He hissed.

"No. I'm serious. Because that seems highly unlikely." You continued, yet again paying no mind to his pissed remarks.

"I'm too busy."

"Nah." You shook your head. "You're too clueless. You wouldn't be able to tell if someone likes you even if they held up a sign with huge red block letters spelling out the words 'I love you!'"

"Stop."

Yeah, you weren't sure how much longer you could hold that laugh back.

"You've never been on a date in this... I don't know, how old even are you– like twenty something years of your life?"

"I'm thirty. And no."

"Holy fuck, you're old." You exclaimed, caught off guard by the information. You knew he was older than you, just didn't think he was in thirties already. He looks so...young.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are."

"It's not that old. I'm hardly a couple years older than you."

"Still old." You shrugged. "But damn, you're life's as dry as sandpaper."

"You do realize my life revolves around fighting titans? So excuse me if I didn't give romance a chance because I was too busy trying not to die." He mumbled.

You spluttered a cough trying to hide the sound of the laughter choking you. He had looked away when he said the words, but the tips of his ears were so, so red.

Never in your life have you seen him this flustered.

"Can you shut up now and let me work?"

"Aren't you charming?" You raised an eyebrow.

Then you paused.

"Say, captain, let me help you." You suddenly said. You couldn't resist the urge to fuck with him a little more. You'd be damned if you didn't.

"With... what?"

You grinned. "Dating. I could be your official love life assistant."

The reaction was exactly as you thought it'd be. His face was absolutely flushed.

"Fuck off."

"Now, that's just mean." You pretended to be offended. "Tip 1: you don't speak to ladies like that."

He stood up without saying a word, walking around the table and stopping besides you. Then with two fingers, he flicked your forehead. Hard.

"Ouch." You cursed under your breath, rubbing your temple and turning to look at him as he walked towards the door. "What was that for?"

"Youre insufferable." He said as he twisted open the door.

"Why thank you." You mumbled as he slammed the door shut behind him. "You're extremely lovable as well, beloved captain."

Levi leaned against the door, the corners of his mouth twitching up the slightest as he heard your laugher through the door.

Oh, but here's the the thing Levi hadn't told you.

That maybe, maybe, the reason he never even considered the approaches of the admirers, or even sometimes realize their intention wasn't because he was clueless. Maybe it's because he barely ever processes the words or the actions, think about it for a second for the situations to make sense.

That maybe, he had no intention to let anyone new in his life because he already had you. What more could he possibly want?

How could he? Not when you existed in his life, with your stupid face and your stupid voice and your stupid, stupid, stupid laugh.

Maybe, just maybe.

He doesn't notice faces much because yours never leave his mind.

@sad-darksoul

#aot #its kind of weird #just thinking #idk #captain levi #levi fluff #levi ackerman #snk #levi heichou #aot fandom #levi #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction #levi x yn #captain levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x reader #levi x you #levi thoughts

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rwrbficrecs · 6 months ago

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The Monarch Haven by @redlightsandicedtea (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I found this fic through @lieselsart's wonderful illustration. Alex isn't the First Son, but his parents are high-ranking politicians. Due to serious mental health issues, he lives secluded in Texas, where he runs a mental health refuge for teens— the Monarch Haven. Secluded, until a real prince seeks refuge there. Alex isn't thrilled but still wants to help. What follows is 76k words of slow burn and domesticity! It's beautifully angsty, with a gradual and moving development. A total comfort read !!

Whiteout by HarmonyWhitlock (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Snowboarder Alex and skier Henry almost collide on the slopes, followed by a heated exchange of words. At the end of the day though, they meet at the bar and, well... This story is part of a series which is all about the CMQ-influenced trope 'In every universe'. I got all giddy with every beautiful story I read: So carefully composed and very well crafted, the emotions and attraction swept me away. Hopefully many more to come !!

I Want Candy by @vanillahigh00 (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Alex as a dad and Henry's house being his daughter's first stop on her quest for Halloween candy are the ingredients to this very sweet fic!

Tiempo de Vals by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Authentic Hispanic details (that are always one of my favorite things about this author's writing), a high school AU, and firstprince dancing- what's not to love?

Workin' On My Fitness by bananamilks (book-verse)

@na-dineee: After gushing to Pez about how hot fitness trainer Alex on Instagram is, he is actually indignant when Pez gives him a gift certificate for a training package to reach his (decidedly not) fitness goal: to be able to lift hot men onto countertops. As always, these two have the hots for each other. And the story around it is really sweet, two seconds angsty, also funny, and just delightful.

If U Seek Amy by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@dot524: Such a cute and meaningful 5+1 centering on Amy Chen and how she views the different members of the First Family. Love an outsider PoV and the sweet moments in this one.

Adrift by @milowren29 (book-verse)

@read-and-write-: An addicting pacific rim AU. I don't even go here and I fully enjoyed it, packed with action, life-threatening monsters and alex-and-henry typical obliviousness and refusal to talk about their feelings which is y'know, canon. Everyone needs to give an opportunity to this one.

In Plain Sight You Hid by @nontoxic-writes (movie-verse)

@dot524: Ever reflect deeply on why everyone hates Miguel? This story fleshes out what he did to Alex and expands on what happened during that hookup and what it had to do with Henry. This is also a study of Alex’s relationship with Henry and what made it special. An insightful and angsty (and sexy) addition to the movie canon.

the beagle, the ghost, and the wardrobe by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@suseagull04: I was immediately intrigued by this fic title's Chronicles of Narnia inspiration, and the fic itself didn't disappoint! Ghost Alex, star-crossed lovers- what more could you ask for?

Jump in with your heart first by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is a blind date that, despite a hiccup or two along the way, will make you believe in soulmates!

Foxden Park by @myheartalivewrites (book-verse)

@dot524: Really enjoyed the slow burn of this one as the story unfolded. So many fun scenes - horse riding, canoeing, sneaky rendezvous in the library. An addicting, enjoyable read!

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

#monthly faves #rwrb fic recs #firstprince #firstprince fic recs #red white and royal blue

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kirammanswifey · 16 days ago

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《Beyond Love, Only Chaos Remains》

Jinx

writer's note: i think that this has been one of the most toxic and sick things that i have ever written, but still, loved it, it's my cup of tea you guys. anyways, if you guys don't know this little twisted histories comes from my arcane imagines, i'll let the link down there if someone's interested, tomorrow it's vi's turn ;)

link:

warnings: smut, lesbian sex, fingering, squirts, spitting, use of drugs, mentions of blood and weird kinks, emotional manipulation, stalking demeanor, obsessive and toxic relationship dinamyc, jinx and reader have a lot of mental issues but they still cool... i think that's all, have fun!

You always knew Jinx was special. From the very first moment you saw one of her videos, something clicked inside you, as if her colorful chaos and her manic laughter were the perfect echo of a dark corner in your own mind. It wasn’t just admiration; it was devotion, an inexplicable connection that made you feel like you were destined to find her, to know her… and maybe, to be part of her world.

Your room became an altar to Jinx: the walls covered in screenshots from her streams, printed cutouts of her most iconic photos, and even a monitor dedicated exclusively to playing her best clips on repeat. Each item had a purpose; every detail about her, no matter how insignificant, was another piece in your puzzle. You knew that her real name was Powder, but she felted comfortable being called by Jinx. You knew she about her taste for sweet things, that she preferred “Overblast” matches in chaos mode, and that despite her constant laughter, there were moments of silence between each stream, where she seemed… alone.

The obsession started as a normal interest, at least that’s what you told yourself. But soon you found her postal address in a stream where, by accident, her camera captured the name of her building. It was just curiosity at first, right? You convinced yourself there was nothing wrong with being near her world, even if it meant spending hours in front of her building, imagining what she was doing, if she was thinking about her fans… if she was thinking about you.

Your username, HexedByJinx, first appeared in her chat months ago, when you dared to donate a significant amount during one of her streams. "Oh, wow! HexedByJinx, thanks for the support. I guess someone’s really enchanted by me, huh?" Her laugh echoed in your ears for days. You saved the clip and played it over and over until you could almost recite every word in the exact tone she used.

Soon, HexedByJinx stopped being just a name in the chat. You started sending her carefully selected gifts through her fan mailbox: a package of crumble cookies with a note that said, "To keep your energy up during those long matches," a necklace with a small rocket to match her explosive aesthetic, and a handwritten card that took you days to perfect. You never received a direct response, but in one stream, you saw her wearing the necklace. Your hands shook with excitement.

When she announced an event to meet fans, your chance finally arrived. You knew you couldn’t just be another face in the crowd. You spent weeks planning what to say, what to bring, and how to make Jinx remember you. You even designed a small digital painting inspired by her aesthetic and printed it as a gift. "She’ll see how much I care. She’ll know I’m different," you thought.

On the day of the event, you arrived early, watching the other fans as you waited for your turn. Jinx’s fans filled every corner of the place, many with blue or pink-dyed hair, as a tribute to their favorite influencer. Others carried signs and laughed nervously, but you stayed silent, studying them all. "They don’t understand how special she is," you thought, with a mix of pity and disdain. You were among them, but you weren’t like the others. You were completely focused on one goal: for her to notice you.

"Next!" shouted one of the organizers, signaling that it was your turn.

You took a deep breath and stepped forward. When you finally stood before her, your heart was beating with almost unbearable intensity. There she was, Jinx, with her vibrant blue hair and mischievous smile, like a living work of art. But what struck you the most was seeing her up close, so real.

Upon seeing you, Jinx’s eyes locked onto yours with that intensity you’d always seen through the screen, but now it made you feel naked, vulnerable.

You took a cautious step forward, trying not to show any nerves. You extended the painting you had brought for her, a vibrant, chaotic portrait reflecting her personality.

"This is for you. I made it thinking of everything you represent," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

She took the painting and examined it closely. Her fingers traced the lines of the design as a satisfied smile formed on her face.

"Wow, this is… amazing." Her eyes lifted to meet yours, filled with curiosity. "Wait, you’re…?"

"I’m… well, I’m a big fan," you said, feeling your words sounding clumsy. You decided to take a risk. "I’m the one who always comments on your streams… HexedByJinx."

For a second, her expression changed. She tilted her head, as if trying to remember. Then, her eyes lit up and a wide smile spread across her face.

"Oh, of course! HexedByJinx. I thought you were a bot or something. You’re real. How crazy."

Her reaction made you laugh, easing your nerves a bit.

"You’re the one who always sends those donations with weird messages and crazy gifts. What was it you said? 'Make the world explode a little more'?"

You laughed nervously, nodding.

"Yeah… I tend to say that. I thought you wouldn’t remember."

"Remember? Please, you always make my streams more interesting. Plus, those gifts you send…" She held up the painting. "Like this one. You’ve got style, you know?"

You felt your cheeks heat up under her attention, but you forced yourself to keep composure.

"I just wanted to thank you for everything you do. You inspire me to be braver, more… free."

She studied you carefully, her gaze more intense than you expected. Then, a sly smile crept onto her face.

"Brave, huh? That sounds fun. So, what do you do to be so brave?"

You hesitated for a moment before responding.

"I’m a streamer, like you. Though not as big, of course…" you said, laughing nervously. "But I try to create content that connects with people, like you do."

Jinx rested her chin on her hand, looking at you with renewed interest.

"Streamer? That explains why you’re always in my streams. And what kind of content do you make? Something explosive, or are you one of the boring ones?"

"A bit of everything, but nothing as cool as yours," you admitted, shrugging. "Actually, I wanted to propose something…"

"Propose something?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow with a smile that seemed like a challenge. "Alright, go ahead."

You took a deep breath.

"I wanted to see if we could collaborate on something. I think we could do something unique together, something that combines my art with your… well, your madness."

For a moment, you thought she might reject you. But to your surprise, Jinx burst out laughing.

"Collaborate with me? I like the way you think. You know what? It could be fun."

She leaned back, pulling a card from one of the pockets of her jacket, and slid it across the table to you.

"Here’s my manager’s contact. Talk to her and let me know if you’ve got something crazy enough to surprise me. But you better not bore me, alright?"

You took the card with trembling hands, but you managed to nod with confidence. Before you left, Jinx gave you one last look, leaning toward you with a mischievous smile.

"See you, Sugar Rush. Don’t disappoint me. Call me if you survive my manager," she joked, winking at you.

You stood frozen as the rest of the line moved forward. She gave her a nickname. To her. She was special to Jinx. That night, when you got home, you placed the empty painting where you’d planned to hang a picture of you and Jinx. It was only the beginning. She was already part of your life, but now, you were going to be part of hers.

The emotion you felt when you received Jinx's card didn't fade, even after you got home. You spent the whole night looking at the card, your fingers brushing over the printed letters as if they were the key to a world you now felt a part of. You knew you couldn't let this moment slip away, that you had to do something with it, something that would impress her. The idea of collaborating on something creative with Jinx filled you with adrenaline. The possibility of doing something that would truly leave a mark kept you awake late into the night, until you finally realized the inevitable: the only way to make this collaboration happen was to go beyond the expectations you had set for yourself.

It wasn't just about creating something for her; it was about creating something that reflected the chaos, the madness, and that unpredictable spark that so perfectly represented Jinx. You had to do something striking, something that showed you not only knew her, but understood her essence better than anyone else. Art could be the key, but you needed to go further. You decided you couldn’t present just any proposal. The work you wanted to present had to be completely aligned with what Jinx represented: breaking the conventional, transforming the ordinary into something entirely unexpected.

During the following week, you immersed yourself in creating something truly unique. You drew inspiration from the worlds she herself had built through her streams, the chaotic environments where her explosive energy seemed to bring everything she touched to life. But you also delved into her vulnerability, that strip of silence that snuck between the chaotic moments in her broadcasts. The art you were going to create wouldn’t just be for her; it would reflect everything that lay beneath her mask. You had to make her understand that you had noticed what no one else saw, the complexity of her being.

In the days leading up to your meeting with her manager, you became a whirlwind of ideas, sketches, and calculations. Every brushstroke, every element of the proposal seemed to require more attention, more dedication. You knew you couldn’t fail, not after everything you had done to get this far. Your purpose became a silent obsession: to make Jinx feel seen, not just admired, but understood.

The day you finally decided to send the email to her manager, you felt like you were sending a letter to the future. With a mix of nervousness and determination, you attached the proposal file. You knew everything could change in that moment. Maybe they would call you for a collaboration, or maybe they would ignore you completely, but it didn’t matter. You had come this far, and that in itself was an achievement.

Days later, the message arrived. The contact from her manager had responded, and there was something in their tone that filled you with anxiety. It said that Jinx had seen the proposal and wanted to talk to you, but there was a little unexpected twist: it wasn’t just about the collaboration you had imagined. The message also mentioned something about a new project for Jinx, one that was even more... risky. Were you ready for that? Fear and excitement mixed within you, but you knew you couldn’t back out. This was what you had been waiting for.

The next step was clear: the answer was yes.

The response was affirmative, and although the confirmation came through a formal email, you felt like the whole world stopped in that moment. What seemed like a simple step toward a project was transforming into an opportunity you couldn’t let slip away. Jinx had seen you, recognized your proposal, and now she wanted something more. You knew this meant the line between admiration and collaboration, between the fan and the creator, was completely blurring.

A few days passed before the call actually came. The manager’s number appeared on your phone, and as soon as you saw it, your heart skipped a beat. You answered with your breath catching, trying not to sound like just another fan, even though you knew deep down you were more than that. It wasn’t just the excitement of being part of her world; it was the possibility of getting closer to Jinx, of proving to her that you understood what no one else did.

"Hello, am I speaking with…?" The voice on the other end was professional, direct, but still had a friendly tone.

"Yes, this is… HexedByJinx." The name rolled off your tongue with a familiarity that no longer sounded strange. You felt like this whole journey had led you to this very moment.

"Ah, of course." A soft click in the background, as if the manager was checking something. "Jinx saw your proposal and is interested in seeing more. But before that, we need to talk about the direction you want to take this. She mentioned that you have some... unconventional ideas. That’s something she likes. So, tell me, what do you have in mind?"

A knot formed in your stomach, but you didn’t let fear stop you. You knew this was your chance to shine, and you couldn’t let it slip away. You spoke with a mix of confidence and excitement, detailing everything you had in mind: how you wanted to incorporate Jinx’s chaos, but also her vulnerability, how it all had to feel like an explosion of colors and sounds, but without losing the heart of who she really was. What you had planned wasn’t just visual art; it was an experience, one that could transcend what everyone thought they knew about Jinx.

"Perfect. Jinx is very intrigued. We’ll call you next week to discuss the details. Get ready for the unexpected. There’s no turning back once this starts." The manager hung up before you could say anything more, leaving you with a feeling of adrenaline, but also uncertainty. Something bigger was brewing, something that would change your life forever.

The call left a deep impression on you. It wasn’t just the first step toward a real collaboration, but a reminder that your world was about to be completely shaken. You could feel it, that strange pull toward the unknown. And as the days went by, you found yourself reviewing the details of the proposal again and again, adjusting and perfecting. You knew the work had only just begun.

The day of the meeting arrived faster than you expected. You found yourself again in front of Jinx, this time in her studio, surrounded by the same neon lights you had always seen through the screen, but now so real you could touch them. The air was charged with energy, a palpable chaos that made you feel like you could explode at any moment. She was there, as unpredictable as always, with that smile of hers, as if everything in the world could be destroyed by her laughter.

"Sugar Rush, you're here!" Jinx exclaimed when you walked in, her voice full of that energy that made you feel like nothing was impossible.

You sat across from her, your mind racing with all the ideas you wanted to share, but you knew it was time to listen. The proposal you had made was just the beginning; now you wanted to know how Jinx saw things, how far she could take this collaboration.

"I love the way you think. Have you realized that we're about to do something totally... fucking epic?" Jinx leaned forward, her eyes shining with a mix of excitement and a hint of mischief.

You nodded, trying to keep up, but with every word from Jinx, every gesture, you felt more connected to her, more a part of her world. What had once been a fantasy, an impossible dream, was taking shape, and everything was starting to feel real.

"I know," your voice came out more confidently than you felt, but that was exactly what you needed. You weren't going to let fear hold you back now. "I'm ready to take it further. I'm ready for the world to see what you and I can do."

Jinx smiled again, this time with an unexpected softness, as if she were recognizing something more than just a fan. As if, finally, she was seeing you not only for what you had done but for what you were capable of creating.

"Then... let's get started. And brace yourself, because this is going to be one hell of a ride," her smile widened, and you couldn't help but smile too. You knew what was about to come would change your life forever, and you couldn't wait to see it.

Jinx's studio was lit only by the dim glow of the computer screens, which blinked incessantly, reflecting colors that never seemed fully defined. The place was a chaos of organized disorder, with scattered cables, tools, and fragments of what looked like unfinished experiments. The atmosphere was imbued with the energy of someone who lives on the edge, someone who doesn't fear the unknown, but seeks it, consumes it.

You found yourself staring at everything, feeling the tension rise as Jinx explained what she wanted to do. It wasn't just an artistic project, no. There was something much deeper, something dark behind her words. The intensity in her gaze penetrated to your bones. You knew that what was being forged here could change everything, and the idea of being so close to that chaos, that power, excited and terrified you at the same time.

"What we're going to do isn't just art; it's a statement. Something that will make everyone who sees it, who feels it, in their very core. Not some Mister Beast shit," Jinx said, her voice charged with that unpredictable energy only she could project.

You didn’t need her to explain any further. You understood what she was hinting at. There was something in the way she spoke, something in her proximity, that pushed you to enter unknown territory. The adrenaline started pumping through your veins, a mix of danger and excitement. Chaos had never been so tempting.

You leaned in closer to her, and for a moment, words ceased to matter. You were completely absorbed by her presence. There were no doubts in your mind, only an urgent need to connect with her, to immerse yourself in that darkness that so easily defined her.

"What we're going to do is going to shatter expectations. It won't just be a visual spectacle; it's going to be a clash of sensations, a direct hit to everything people think they understand about art and chaos. We're going to push those limits, make people feel every vibration, every reaction," Jinx said, getting closer and closer, as if guiding you to something you couldn’t walk away from.

The proposal was clear. What they wanted to create wasn’t just a visual installation, but an immersive experience that would take the participants and bring them to the edge of their fears, their darkest desires. A world where sensations would feel too real, where the viewer couldn’t distinguish between what was part of the installation and what was a reflection of their own mind. Chaos, uncertainty, discomfort. All of it would be translated into an emotional test so powerful that those who dared to enter would never leave the same way.

Art, in this case, wasn’t just something to look at. It was something to live.

Jinx was staring at you with an intensity that seemed to consume everything else. Every word, every gesture, was charged with a palpable urgency. She was so determined to bring her vision to the world that everything she touched became part of that vision.

And then, almost impulsively, you took a moment to look at her closely. The spark in her eyes, the way her lips curved into a smile that only true chaos could generate, hypnotized you. You realized you were facing something much bigger than just a project. You were facing a dangerous connection, and you couldn’t say no.

"I want you with me in this. Not as a spectator. As someone who understands what we're about to do," Jinx moved her face closer to yours, her words filled with uncontrollable desire. Her breath was warm on your skin, and her proximity made you feel like you were about to crumble.

And, although you knew it, you couldn’t pull away. This was the strongest attraction you’d felt in a long time. The fear that would normally have held you back faded, replaced by a burning need to be part of her world. To be part of that darkness, of that destructive energy that seemed to define her. You didn’t know if it was her madness, her magnetism, or something much deeper that kept you close, but you had surrendered without even questioning it.

"What do you need from me?" you asked, and although the words came out calmly, your voice was filled with something far more visceral.

Jinx smiled, with that smile that you knew would change everything.

"I need you to use your skills to bring this to life. To make it so real that no one who sees it will ever forget it. It’s going to be a spectacle that will make them question everything they know about fear, pleasure, madness. But I also need you. Without you, this doesn’t make sense."

In that moment, you realized something. This wasn’t just a project. It was an invitation to enter her world. A world where there were no rules. Where chaos was the only constant. And you, by your own choice, were handing yourself over to it.

The connection between both of you was so deep, so intense, that there was no room for doubt anymore. You didn’t need to think. All you could do was move forward. You knew that what you were about to create would be as destructive as it would be addictive. But, in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to sink further into the abyss she offered.

She looked at you, and in her eyes, you could see what she truly wanted. She wasn’t just looking for someone to help her create something. She was looking for someone willing to follow her to the end, to embrace the chaos by her side. And you knew that, for the first time, you felt completely alive.

The air in the warehouse was thick, heavy with the smell of mold and rusted metal. Every step you took echoed with a macabre sound, as if the place itself was alive, waiting for something. Jinx, with that crooked smile you never knew if it was malicious or simply excited, watched you as you moved forward. The room was lit only by dim lights, flickering on the ceiling, giving the place an even darker feel. You knew what you were about to do, and it was impossible not to feel a mix of excitement and tension in the air. This wasn’t just a show. This was art in its rawest, wildest form.

"Are you ready for what we’re about to do?" Jinx asked, her voice charged with an energy that sent shivers down your spine. There was no room for doubt. You knew there was no turning back, and you were surprised by how eager you felt, how your body responded almost automatically to her energy.

"Let’s do it," you replied firmly, though the uncertainty burned inside you. You felt the weight of what was coming. You felt yourself sinking deeper into this chaos, this madness you were creating together. Jinx was the fire, the spark, but you were the one holding the reins, the one who knew how to make it all fit, make it all make sense. Or so you thought. Or so you wanted to believe.

You moved into the center of the warehouse, the stream was on since minutes ago, where the screens and projectors were ready to be activated. Each one was placed with precision, yet there was a touch of disorder, as if it were something that should never be ordered. The perfect combination of chaos and control. Like the two of you.

The first participants arrived, and you felt the energy in the air shift. It was a mixture of anticipation and fear. One by one, the spectators entered the dark corridor you had designed, the lights flickering around them, casting shadows that seemed to move as if they were stalking them. You could see how their eyes filled with doubt, with insecurity, but also with a strange fascination. The sound, a deep rumble that grew in intensity, seeped into their veins, taking hold of them. Their pulse quickened, the air thickened.

They didn’t know what was waiting for them. You did.

As they moved forward, the projections began. They were fragmented images: distorted faces, broken memories, their own fears projected on the screens. The chaos was palpable. The walls, which at first seemed like mere ruins, came to life. You couldn’t help but smile. Everything was working perfectly.

But then came the moment to give them what they really needed. The space darkened completely. The light vanished as if it had never existed. The sound turned into a low, heavy pulse, as though the universe itself was breathing in their ears. In that overwhelming silence, the shadows rose again. Something was changing. Something big was about to happen.

When the corridor ended, the participants were called one by one to enter what you had named "the fear chamber." A small, enclosed space, isolated from the world, where the rules of reality ceased to exist. The first one entered, trembling, unsure of what to expect. You watched everything from a dark corner, your breath steady, your eyes fixed on the screen. Inside the chamber, the lights flickered, then went out. A distorted figure appeared in the projections. The image of a face, and then another, one that quickly faded, leaving behind something that shouldn’t exist.

It was chaos made into an image. But the most interesting part was what was happening in their minds. Their own fears, their darkest desires, their insecurities… all of that was projected in front of them. They couldn’t escape. They couldn’t do anything.

You focused. You knew when to tighten, when to let the pressure build. It was such a precise control that it almost felt like an art of manipulation.

Jinx, in the back, was smiling. She was watching how each one of them cracked, how reality dissolved, but you were in your element, enjoying the chaos with a calm that only you could possess. In this moment, you were completely connected to the spectacle, to what you were creating. Jinx was your ally, your muse, your chaos, but you were the one shaping it into perfection.

Though you never said it aloud, the connection between you and Jinx grew deeper. It wasn’t just the art. It wasn’t just the show. It was something darker, something more personal. The way your ideas merged, the way your minds complemented each other in this game of shadows. It was as if together you could create something no one else could understand, something so intense and visceral that it left marks on the soul. You knew that Jinx needed you to give shape to her madness, and Jinx knew that you were the balance that gave it meaning.

The images on the screen now showed something different. A distorted figure. Your own face merged with Jinx’s. In the projection, both of you seemed to merge, transforming into a single entity. In that moment, you felt it deep inside: it was as if you could no longer live without her.

You looked at her face, at her crooked smile, as she manipulated the controls with almost obsessive precision. You felt that all of this was taking shape faster than you had imagined. The show was going to be something no spectator would ever forget, but the most shocking thing was what was happening inside you. The line between art and reality had blurred, and now, every moment with Jinx consumed you.

The end was near. You knew that the final phase, the climax of the show, was going to break them. The participants were already on the edge of despair, but you didn’t know how far you could push them. Every stimulus, every image, every sound, every smell, was designed to disturb them, to break them. The impact would be brutal. The chaos would be absolute. And you, watching from the shadows, were the one in control.

It was when everything seemed to collapse, when everything became unsustainable, when the participants felt like they were losing their minds, that the show reached its final moment. The lights went out. The sound turned into a roar, a scream, something that pierced their chest. The screen shattered, showing images of them, their own fears spilling over.

When the silence fell, you realized something. You had done what you wanted. You had brought to life something so dark, so deeply disturbing, that no one could forget it.

And by your side, Jinx kept smiling, waiting, enjoying the madness you had just unleashed.

You return to Jinx's apartment after the show, and the air between the two of you feels electrified. The success is palpable. The metrics, the comments, the followers. Everything has exploded. And it's not just because of the show, it's because you and Jinx have touched something deep in each viewer. The chaos you've created has left its mark.

Jinx, always restless, throws her backpack onto the couch and turns on a dim light in the corner of the room, casting shadows that dance on the walls. The music, a pounding industrial sound, begins to play in the background. Both of you are exhausted, but there's something undeniable: the tension between you two is stronger than ever.

You approach her without thinking too much. The celebration moment is no longer about success, but about what has been built between you. The silence between you two stretches on, but it’s not uncomfortable. It's the prelude to something more.

Jinx looks at you with those bright, unpredictable eyes, as always. "Aren't you tired of surprising me, Sugar Rush?" Her tone is playful, but there’s something darker hidden in her gaze, something that attracts you even more.

"No… I'm not tired of you," you reply with a raspy voice, taking another step closer to her. The distance between you two narrows until the electricity is palpable. Jinx doesn’t wait a second, grabs your neck, and kisses you wildly, as if all the madness you’ve unleashed on the world needs to escape in that moment. Her lips are demanding, and you don’t resist. The kiss is brutal, like a clash of overflowing passions.

You pull away a bit, looking into her eyes. You’re breathing fast, as if all the air in the apartment has been exhausted. "Jinx, I… I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but… I’m completely obsessed with you. Every time you’re not around, I lose control. I’ve done things... crazy things, things no one should do, and I feel sick for you."

Jinx doesn’t take a step back. Her smile grows, and although you know it’s a smile of madness, you also feel it excites her, everything you've just said. "Oh, Sugar Rush, I love it when you get so... intense."

Without being able to help it, your hands slide over her body, touching her skin, her tattoos, feeling the chemicals between you. "I’ve spent hours following you. Hours, Jinx. I wake up thinking about you, I fall asleep thinking about you. I’ve searched for every picture of you, every video. Sometimes I watch you without you knowing, and all I do is imagine what would happen if I had you closer. And then I realize I already have you close, and that... drives me crazy." Every word escapes your mouth with desperation, as if confessing it, all the weight of your obsession collapses.

Jinx laughs softly, but it’s a laugh full of evil and desire. "I’m driving you completely crazy, huh? I like it." Then, with unexpected speed, she pushes you against the wall, her body pressing against yours almost aggressively. Her hands explore your body with overflowing fury, as if she’s anxious to confirm that everything you just said is true, that she’s completely inside of you.

The touches between the two of you become more and more desperate. You’re afraid of what you might do if you keep giving in to this whirlwind of desire and madness. But at the same time, you can’t stop. Your mind and body are trapped, and Jinx is the only escape.

"You know, right?" Jinx whispers in your ear as her lips trace fiery kisses on your neck. "There’s no turning back. You’re mine, Sugar Rush." Her words are like sweet poison, and something inside you burns with more intensity. The truth becomes clearer, and you don’t want to escape it. You want more.

"Yes… yes, I’m yours," you murmur between gasps, losing yourself in her, in the heat, in the madness that consumes you. "And you… you’re mine. You’ll always be."

Jinx, hearing your words, smiles again, satisfied, and slides closer to you, taking your lips in a kiss so desperate and full of passion that you feel like the whole world is falling apart around you.

The apartment is lit only by the neon lights flickering, casting psychedelic shadows on the walls, like an ezquizofrenic show. The feeling of triumph has already faded, replaced by a much more urgent and dangerous need. You’re consumed by a flame you can’t extinguish, and Jinx knows it. You both know it. The chaos you’ve unleashed on the digital world has been nothing compared to the chaos now taking shape between you two.

In one corner of the room, Jinx pulls out a small box, opens it with a twisted smile, and inside, a white powder glows faintly under the light. She takes a spoonful, looks at it, and then, with a casual gesture, offers it to you.

"Come on, Sugar Rush, don’t you want to fly? We need this. All of this... this is ours. This is the last level."

You’re scared, for a second, of what you’re about to do. But the desire consumes you, temptation takes over. You’ve been through a lot in the last few months, and this... this feels like an escape. Making this decision is almost like, by doing so, you can finally release everything you’ve been holding back.

Taking the powder, you inhale it, feeling the burn in your nostrils, a direct hit to your brain. Instantly, warmth spreads through your body, euphoria begins to take control, and your thoughts become blurry, bubbly. Jinx looks at you intently as the powder begins to take effect, her eyes shining brighter than ever. "That’s it… you’re mine now, completely."

Reality begins to fade, and all that remains is the sound of the music and the sound of labored breathing between the two of you. Jinx approaches you again, this time with unexpected violence. It’s as if everything that was in her before is exploding. Her lips meet yours, and the passion that was once intense becomes something wild, insatiable. The contact between you two is like a clash of uncontrollable forces.

"I’m devouring you, can you feel it?" Jinx whispers between kisses, almost as if she’s talking to someone else, as if the conversation is a delirium. Her voice mixes with the music, creating a strange, thick melody. "You’ll never escape from me, never."

Your head spins. The powder makes everything you touched before now feel more real, more raw, more intensely sensitive. Every touch of her skin makes you shiver, and every word, no matter how absurd, drags you deeper into the madness. You don’t know if the desire you feel for her is real or if it’s just a fantasy fueled by what you’ve inhaled, but you don’t care. The only thing that matters now is that you can’t stop touching her, you can’t stop losing yourself in her.

Jinx's fingers slipped under your shirt, she smiled widely when she noticed you were braless, easy work. Her fingers squeezed your left nipple mercilessly, she rubbed it with her palm from top to bottom to make it more and more sensitive, so sensitive that it was impossible to bear, it was like a delicious torture. Your moans were not long in coming, from one second to the next you found yourself asking for more. You needed more. You needed her.

"What did you say, Sugar Rush?" Jinx asked, moving closer to your neck and biting hard, she sank her teeth in as deep as she could, and when you were about to scream she choked you with her hands to stop you, and that only made you more excited.

She didn't let go of your neck until she felt blood in her mouth, then she grabbed your hair.

"Open your mouth," She demanded, dominant and amused.

You could see her lips stained with blood, with your blood. Exquisite, red had always suited her so well. Without protest you obeyed, opening as wide as you could, sticking out your tongue that was dripping with excess saliva, drool sliding down your throat.

Jinx bit her lip and squeezed your cheeks, her extravagant half-painted nails digging into your skin, then she leaned in and spit in your mouth. You had no other reflex than to swallow and smile at her, grateful for what she was giving you.

Jinx laughed mockingly, she was using you as her toy, and you were more than happy to be.

"Let's try one more time. What do you want from me, Sugar Rush?" Jinx asked, still tasting your blood in her mouth.

"I want you to fuck me, but if you don't want to it doesn't matter. I'd settle for just this, you can keep biting me and drinking my blood, I don't care. I'm happy with anything that comes from you," You were lucky you were so high you couldn't hear yourself, because you really sounded pitiful and not very sane.

And Jinx loved it. She loved the power she had over you.

"You're kind of pathetic, Sugar Rush. You'd settle for anything, huh?" A dangerous glint lit up Jinx's eyes. "I mean, I could pull my pants down right now, piss on your face and you'd still thank me?"

And the saddest thing was that you didn't have to think about it, your head bobbing up and down in a way that was almost mechanical. "I love everything about you," You confessed hoarsely, imagining the scene vividly in your twisted head.

Jinx stifled an awkward laugh.

"Don't worry, baby, I won't go that far... yet," Jinx smirks, her eyes flashing with a dangerous light, and she pushes you against the wall again. "That's what I want to hear, Sugar Rush. I know you want me. I know I'm controlling you. Now shut up and enjoy."

Jinx squeezed her neck with one hand, putting special force where she had hurt her, and her other hand traveled from her mouth to your lower part. She put her hand under your skirt and with her legs she made yours open to have better access. Her index finger moved your underwear to the side and she stuck a finger in you, she took it out and put it in repeatedly, not going too deep, just testing its capacity. Her thumb rubbed your fluids against your clit, pressing it lightly, she was killing you slowly.

You writhed in her clutches, your body made involuntary contractions that harassed you with blows to the face for your stubbornness, Jinx hated it when you didn't listen.

"It seems that someone is a little restless. Maybe I should increase the intensity and see how long you can take it."

And without warning she inserted three more fingers, a scream escaped from deep in your throat, your eyes rolled back. Jinx's hand was busy all over your pussy, her four fingers penetrating you and her thumb never stopping punishing your clit. It was perfect. Simply perfect.

Jinx looked at you with her typical crazy smile, while she masturbated you she brought her face closer to yours to start filling you with licks all over. It was so wild, it was such a basic instinct, so primal. For a moment it felt like they had returned to the Paleolithic period, where they only had to eat, fuck and survive. And the truth is that it sounded like a good plan, the best, actually.

You couldn't take the intensity any longer and you came in a guttural, almost superhuman growl. Your juices were sliding through Jinx's hand, who still hadn't taken her fingers out of you, she was using you as her personalized Xbox controller, overstimulating you in a way that would make you lose your mind at any moment.

Luckily for you, she got bored after a few minutes and let you rest. Her reflex was to wipe your juices off her hand, and seeing this you almost felt like you could cum again.

"Can you sit on my face?" The question came out of your lips without any filter.

Jinx looked at you still with her sticky fingers in her mouth, she smiled and bit her thumb, smelling your essence on it.

"Lie down on the couch."

And you didn't need to hear it twice, even with your legs shaking you ran to the furniture and positioned yourself in the best way, with your head resting on the headboard, waiting patiently for your prize. God, this would be like a dream come true for you. But it all got even better when you looked to the side and were met with the scene you never thought you'd witness in real life.

Jinx was stripping in front of you. Your lustful gaze traveled all over her body, from her slim ankles, to her plump thighs, to those dreamy hips, and of course, to her tiny waist. Her nipples were the same shade of pale pink you'd bet on.

"Don't stare at me like that, you lil' freak," Despite her teasing tone it didn't sound like it bothered her at all.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it, you're gorgeous, the most..."

Jinx rolled her eyes and shushed you with a mime gesture. She stretched and her bones creaked exquisitely, she was warming up her muscles, because the position she would be in next required a lot of physical endurance, especially as time passed.

And meanwhile, you just waited in silence, delighted by the sight. Jinx climbed onto the furniture with her back to you, first staring at you, her pupils dilated.

"Enough talk, get that pretty mouth working. I want to cum too, fuck," And without warning, as was typical of Jinx, she sat on your face, and not in a delicate way, it should be noted.

She jumped on you as if you were an inflatable ball. Leaving you without air every two minutes, and in a very macabre way, you found yourself pleased with that idea. You could die like this and you would be happy.

"Your nose tickles me, Sugar Rush, it's amazing. I think you've become my favorite seat." Jinx alternated between breathy giggles and long sighs, it was a crazy experience, literally.

You were enjoying it, but not completely. You wanted to taste her, make her feel good, show her your full potential. So you took a chance and grabbed her by the hips, digging your fingers into her bones to keep her still.

Jinx moaned loudly as your tongue penetrated her deeply. You buried your face in that glorious pussy, breathing in her scent and only became more addicted, hungrier. You licked without stopping, interspersing it with occasional little bites.

Jinx looked down at you, you looked so cute like this, beneath her.

"I bet I'm fulfilling your biggest fantasy. I'm sure you used to masturbating while watching my streams, you little pervert."

And your muffled moan only proved her right.

"It feels like I'm helping a charity cause," Jinx humiliated you with her words and you could only continue to please her, because it was what you had to do, you were born to do it. "Shit, I'm gonna cum. Open your mouth." She bellowed in a high, whiny voice.

Jinx put pressure on her numb legs and stood up a little, she leaned on the couch and with her other hand she quickly caressed her clit in search of her orgasm. An orgasm that shot not only to your face but to part of your body, Jinx had had the biggest squirt you had ever seen in your life.

Exhausted, she let herself fall on top of you. Your naked and sweaty bodies intertwined like two threads of the same piece. Her long blue hair wrapped around you like a cloak, you stared at the ceiling and smiled big. Is this what happiness felt like?

"Why are you smiling, Sugar Rush?" Jinx asked, poking your cheek.

"Because I'm happy." It was the first time in your life you were able to say such a phrase, and yet you still couldn't believe it. You couldn't believe any of it—couldn't believe your luck.

"Aw, how sweet. Wanna do it again?" The sudden shift in conversation left you stunned.

Jinx didn’t wait for an answer. She kissed you, hard and rough. Your hands moved frantically across her body, searching for more than just skin. You wanted to go deeper, to tear her apart and reach her very heart. It felt as though everything was slipping away, as though reality itself was unraveling, and the only constant was her.

"Do you want to, Sugar Rush? How far would you go for me?" Her voice was husky, dripping with dark energy. She cupped your face gently, almost as if this were some twisted game. "I’ve made you mine, you know that, don’t you?"

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. You could only react. Her lips, her skin, the chaos surrounding you both—it all blurred into a single, undeniable truth. She was the only thing that mattered. Only her.

The kiss grew more desperate. Your bodies collided, pulled, and clawed at each other, as if devouring and becoming one in the process. Words became meaningless, empty. All that remained was the raw, unrelenting need, the way you were both destroying and remaking each other with every touch, every breath, every frantic caress.

The early morning had fallen when, finally, exhausted and caught in a whirlwind of emotions and adrenaline, they fell into silence. The room was filled with a mix of sweat and the heavy air of what had happened. The glow of the computer screen still illuminated their faces, even though the stream had ended, and the numbers kept rising.

Jinx lay back on the bed, still smiling with that overflowing spark in her eyes, but something had changed. She wasn’t the same crazy, attention-seeking lunatic anymore, but a more vulnerable, more human version of herself. However, you knew that this moment of vulnerability was as fleeting as everything else that passed through her mind. She was at your side in this chaotic world you’d created together, but you couldn’t help but feel that the connection being formed was also a cage.

You stayed sitting on the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, your mind filled with disjointed thoughts, with the truth you had unleashed. You had confessed everything, every dark corner of your obsession, your fears, your desires, your addiction. You had let it all spill out, and instead of rejecting it, Jinx had accepted it as if it were just another game.

“You see, I told you,” Jinx whispered, slowly sitting up. She approached you, taking your chin with a crooked smile. “What we have is unique. And you know what? I love it.”

Her voice was softer, but her eyes still held the madness she always carried. You looked at her, feeling yourself burn even more, unsure if what you’d been searching for was an escape valve or a chain.

“It’s more than that…” you answered in a broken voice, unable to help yourself. The memories of everything you had done, of the hours spent waiting for her to notice you, flooded your mind like a storm. “It’s not just obsession, Jinx… it’s… I need to have you close all the time. I can’t let you go. I can’t.”

Jinx leaned in toward you, her warm breath on your neck, and her red lips left a soft kiss on your skin. You felt the tingling of her touch, but also that persistent sense of emptiness that never went away, that need to keep searching for something more, something you knew you would never find, but couldn’t stop chasing.

“Don’t worry, Sugar Rush. I’m not going anywhere,” she said with a playful laugh, but deep down you knew that the chaos in her mind was devouring her too. Just like it was devouring you. Just like it was consuming both of you.

Silence filled the room for a moment, but it wasn’t the silence of peace. It was the silence of two people trapped in a spiral of madness, fed by their own demons. Love, obsession, chaos, all blended into something bigger than either of them.

You lay beside her, feeling how Jinx’s breath intertwined with yours, even though you both knew neither of you would sleep that night. Inside you, everything was chaos. And that chaos, though terrifying, was the only thing keeping you alive.

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