#quinn asks

[calritchie21]

i want both.

[demonic0angel]

Prompt: Dan Phatom as an inmate of Arkham Asylum?

Part 2, part 3

Harley hummed. She eyed the newest inmate, a gorgeous hunk of meat with dark raven hair and bright blue eyes. He was wearing the usual orange suit, but he wore it like a model, with the buttons opened and sleeves rolled up, highlighting his broad arms and tight muscles. He was as beautiful as a demon, and even though Ivy was way prettier, Harley still couldn’t help but be curious.

Harley nodded to herself, thinking for only a moment. Then she waved a hand, calling out, “Yoo hoo! You there! Hey, handsome! Why don’t you come here and spend some time with me and Ivy?”

Ivy rolled her eyes next to her. “Harley!” She hissed.

The man paused, tilted his head, and then smiled, flashing his sharp fangs before he crossed the prison yard to sit down with the two. People stared at them, but the man didn’t seem bothered.

“Hello,” he said politely, “what’s up?”

“You’re new here, ain’tcha?” Harley said rhetorically. “What’re you in for?”

The man chuckled. “I thought it was rude to ask?”

“Nahhh, in here? It doesn’t matter. Everyone already knows why we’re here, there’s no secrets around here. So? What’re you in here for?”

The man smiled. “I started teasing a little bird I found and then he started getting mad at me. I didn’t like how he made Batman go after me, so I made a building explode and I was tossed into here. I didn’t even kill anyone though!”

Seeing how large and old he was, Harley was a little worried and had to ask, “Which little bird?”

“The beautiful one with the black and blue suit and the pretty smile,” the man said dreamily, curling a lock of raven hair around his clawed fingers as he looked towards the sky in a daydream. “He was pretty funny too.”

Harley immediately cooed. Anyone who thought Nightwing was funny clearly hadn’t been hit over the head by his escrima sticks while he threw out obnoxious puns, but the way he described him was so sweet! He was clearly insane, so that was completely okay in her books!

“Awww, that’s so cute! Are you a meta or what? Those fangs o’ yours don’t look human!” Harley said, while Ivy shook her head exasperatedly.

The man shook his head with a small smile. “Not exactly. But I guess I do have meta powers.”

Ivy asked, “Then doesn’t that just make you a meta?”

The man shrugged and then asked, “What about you ladies?” Harley knew that he was just dodging the question, but she didn’t mind, so she began to prattle on about the recent museum break-in she and the girls did, but Selina got away while she and Ivy were caught. Selina was planning a break out for them soon, so they just had to sit tight and wait!

The man smiled, fangs appearing again. “Can I join you? I want to see that little bird again.”

Harley beamed, “Sure thing! What’s your name?” while Ivy groaned.

The man smiled and reached over to shake her hand. His hands were cold and large, like a chunk of ice. He smiled and his pupils sharpened into slits, but oddly enough, he still looked friendly, like a tiger in a way.

“Please. Call me Wraith.”

[whereisyourpippinnow]

C: Brother. G: Put down the blade. C: You lie. G: Give it to me. C: You always lie!

Gladiator II (2024) dir. Ridley Scott | » requested gifset

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

longer aftercare with quinn after a particularly heavy intense session with him where ur deep in sub space and take longer to get out of it>>

i’m so soft for him, please i have so many other thoughts with Q and aftercare

“Did so good, so so good.” He’s mumbling as he presses slow, soft kisses against your tear stained cheeks.

“Daddy,” he cut you off.

“Nuh huh, just Quinny right now.” His hands rubbing soft circles on your reddened thighs. “Need you to look at me, baby.”

He’s sitting on his heels when your half lidded eyes meet his. “I’m gonna run into the bathroom okay? Gonna go grab the lotion for your wrists and some ibuprofen. 5 minutes and i’ll be back. I love you.”

He’s not even gone for 2 minutes. He can’t stand to be away from you after a rough session. Especially a rough session you’re barely speaking after.

Body so overwhelmed with the pleasure he was ripping from you. Brain just stuck on the mantra: daddy, daddy, daddy.

His hands brought relief to your worn skin, aches easing with each gentle touch he gave. Never letting the cold of the lotion hit you.

Once he finally looked down at you again he was quick to notice your lips perched up, chuckling to himself.

“Whatcha doing there, precious?”

“Wanna kiss.” Your strained voice let out.

“Oh yeah? Right here?” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

Noticing the shake of your head, he moved up to your cheek. “Here?”

“Nuh huh.”

“Oh! Here then?” As he pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Quinny.” You whined, dragging out his name.

“What baby? Gave you what you wanted.” He’s teasing now, he knows what you want. He always knows.

The sounds of you kissing the air made his heart flutter and his cheeks flush.

He leaned in, “oh, you mean right here” as he pressed his lips to yours. Warm, and welcoming. Moulded to him, just like you were made for him. All of you, was just for him.

“I love you so much, pretty.”

[crowwkui]

Hi, I'm just here to tell you I'm fully obsessed with your character designs for Harley and Ivy. I could stare at them for hours. Have a great day! <3

thank you so much!! i really want to get back to drawing them now that my schedule's opening up a bit more ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 

[ruinix]

God I might get in trouble for saying this but when I say I need to worship the man that is quinn hughes I mean it!

Hello, lovely. Here, you will never be in trouble, coz it is Quinn who will be in trouble for existing and being hot. 🙂‍↕️ This should be a simple thought….but….it became a full drabble. [This thot is also inspired by an excerpt i saw in Instagram (see at the end)] Severely no BETA. It is 3AM when i finish it.

Burning Touches

TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Hurt/Comfort (slight), Body worship (m!receving), Teasing, Unprotected Sex (protections, please. It’s important, lovely), Overstimulation (m), Quinn is being pathetic (kinda subby if you squint. He is definitely. / Switch notes) or he is just too weak for you 😉

Count: 1716 words | Masterlist | Taglist

Quinn shivers the moment your hands finally touch his skin after hours of you tracing soft circles over his shirt. His hands grip the sheets to prevent himself from breaking his promise not to pounce on you and let you do what you want to do, because he will. He’s so close when all he can see is you on top of him.

Your eyes are glazed as you pour every bit of your attention on him.

The longer this goes on, the more he yearns for it. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day. That is all he wants. Him occupying your mind, because you occupy his. Every fucking day of the year.

When your finger slips under the hem of his shirt, he groans, nearly jumping at how quickly your eyes meet his, falling to his throat like you’ve marked the very sound that came straight from his fucking soul. Because it truly did. He’s fully bare. All his soul. All his body even fully clothed. All his mind. Every inch of him is at your mercy.

Then up, up and up, your hand travels. You purposely scratch your nails on his skin, marking and staking your claim with streaks. Physically temporary. Mentally permanent. Do you realize that? Every scratch you’ve made on his body is forever ingrained in his soul. Every single one.

All he can do is moan, pathetically thrusting his hips up for relief that he’s not at all getting because you aren’t sitting on his cock. Just on his thighs. His fucking thighs that are covered by his fucking sweatpants. Damn it.

‘Just why didn’t he just wear his boxers? Why did he pick these sweatpants after the shower? Just why?’ he hounds past self.

"Take it off, Quinn," you order, bringing him back to his reality.

You don’t need to expound. He understands, quickly sitting up, tugging his shirt with one hand, whimpering like a fool when you climbed off him so he can also remove his pants and briefs. His heart is aching at the smallest distance from you standing off the bed, your hands behind you. Too far. You’re too far. You shouldn’t be this far away from him. This shouldn’t be allowed.

You’re just two feet away, but it feels like you’re on the other side of a cliff where the connecting bridge has rotted and broken from the middle, effectively not letting him cross when all he needs is to be stuck to your skin. It won’t matter to him if there will be a deadly drop of sharp stone edges or a raging river. He will climb down—jump down if necessary—and crawl his way up to get to you. He needs you.

Despite his need, he only stares as he burns. He’s on fire as your burning-yet-dazed eyes soak in every detail of his body, taking your time. From his tousled hair, to the strands falling on his temple, to his slightly overgrown beard, to his shoulders, to his chest, to his abs, to his leaking cock, to his legs, down to his fucking toes. That makes him squirm, sitting back down with weak knees, his breaths coming in harder and harder.

His cock twitches when your eyes land on it. When your tongue darts out to sensually lick your lower lip, he falls further down steps of insanity. It hurts. His cock aches. So much. He needs to be touched by you. He needs to be fucked by you. He needs you more than ever.

Yet he sits, because he needs you to see how good he can be. For you.

 So good as he silently gazes at you, yearning for nothing more but your slightest touch.

"Just one touch. Please. Please. My Love," is the plea that got stuck at the tip of his tongue. The plea that he hopes you can see in his eyes, in the way he trembles. You must see him. He begs you to see.

The relief he feels when you step forward, crossing the impossible distance, is overflowing. Then you touch him, your palm meeting his chest, pushing so gently yet firmly. He fucking whines. You touched him. Now, he’s shaking even more. Too rattled. The anticipation is getting too much that his eyes burn from unshed tears. He can barely think as he follows your wordless order. He moves back to lay down. He gasps when you mount him. A lazy smile on your pretty face makes his chest tighten.

Why are you so beautiful? You are literally glowing. It’s probably the warm light of the lamps that you’ve carefully picked that made his house a home for both of you.  Yeah, the lights. But it’s you. You glow because you’re you. You glow because you are the light of his life.

A beacon that saves him in the darkness of nights.

No matter how exhausted he is—from the game losses, from the harsh speculations about him leaving, from the coldness of his teammates, his friends, being moved, from the cruel reality that his happiness doesn’t—or won’t ever—matter in the team after he gave everything for the team—you’re there to make it all better.

Oh, he’s lucky to have you.

His love.

He only realizes that he is silently crying when your thumbs brush away his tears, when you lean down and start to kiss the falling drops. You’re here. Always.A broken sob finally escapes him when you press your forehead against his. No words or permissions need to be said. He brings his arms around you as he seeks more comfort. The heated moment takes a pause. He cries because he needs to let it out and you know that.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleads. “Ever.”

“I won’t,” you immediately reply with no hesitation. “I’m here.”

“Again.” He tightens his hold.

“I’m here.”You squeeze your thighs against his sides, putting your weight on his chest, to ground him. It works. It always does. You repeat, “I’m here, Quinn.”

He cries and cries. He feels so vulnerable and so safe. He can be who he is, feel what he feels, break when he needs to, because you will always walk beside him, stop with him, wait with him as he gathers his pieces back together. You see him. All of him.

And he sees you.

He loves that he matches everything you give him. He will never be tired of doing so.

For minutes you two stay like that. Holding one another. Until his tears dry. Until he purges all the negativity with the help of your light that guides and that incinerates what needs to be gone. Until all that’s left is him still being absolutely fucking horny. His cock is begging for release as you softly rub your pussy over him, so slowly, so deliberate, because you know that his need is now different.

You press soft kisses all over his face, neglecting his lips where he needs it the most. Your hands slowly guide his to the headboard where he understands it should stay. He gulps and grips the bar. Shivers run down his spine because you don’t move to secure his wrists with the shackles dangling there for him to use on you or for you to use on him. Now, it’s for the latter, but you don’t use it. You simply trust him to keep his hands there. He won’t betray your trust. Not ever.

You kiss him lower. To every part of his body that you took your time drinking in earlier. He burns and burns and burns. So much more that you are touching him. Your lips ignite goosebumps on his skin, your tongue darting out to taste every bead of sweat that appears.

Your silent yet so loud repeated and cycling murmurs strum the strings of his soul, “You’re beautiful. You’re handsome. You’re strong. You’re amazing. You’re clever. You’re tenacious. You’re the very best.”

So affirming.

So touching.

He feels worshiped. Every kiss, every lick, every word affirms him. He feels loved. You love him. Only fool would be blind to that fact. Quinn is not a fool.

So, for every compliment, he answers, “I love you.”

Even if you don’t need to, once or twice, you reciprocate, “I love you too.”

When you kiss every exposed inch of him except for his lips and cock, you move up his body with more. Only now, your kisses are more of bites than kisses like you want to eat him.

You are eating him.

And instead of ‘I love you’s, while his knuckles are turning white as he grips the bar harder that he feels his arms cramping, his soul reverberating with every beat of his heart, he says “Please. Bite down harder.”

He needs you to leave bruises.

He needs you to break into his skin and make him bleed.

He needs you to swallow the slightest drops of blood of him.

He needs it so much.

Then, instead of compliments, you chuckle against his skin. Your eyes twinkle as you meet his pleading eyes. You murmur, mocking him, “Oh, you would like that, huh, Handsome?”

You won’t leave marks.

Not even the slightest imprint of your teeth. Not even the slightest discoloring for a hickey.

Not when he begs and whines and whimpers. Not when you sink your pussy down his cock. Not even when you fuck him after telling him not to move. Not when your pussy clenches around him so hard that he comes for you.

Over and over again.

However, when his mind is raw and fuzzy from how much you milk his cock that he can’t physically come anymore and when a tear of frustration escapes him, you finally bite down hard into his neck until his skin breaks.

Pain and pleasure shoot down his exhausted body. His cock twitches, aching and wanting to come but nothing comes out.

He is blacking out, his hands letting go of the bar, falling on the bed, not even going around you. He’s so spent.

Any noise is getting muffled, yet he hears your breathless and exhausted words so clearly.

“Such a good boy, Quinn. You did so well for me.”

The excerpt (I fear I got no link to source because I only screenshotted it days ago and it didn't leave my head one bit):

Good night 💙💙💙 I love you, sweeties, lovelies.

[syu-dol]

baileyfuckers will see this n think hell yeah

[hughesybear]

thinking about baby peteyquinn

[puckinghischier]

so hi.. i keep thinking about how hot (and probably hopefully rough) sex would’ve been after last night’s game. you do with that information what you’d like.. i just thought i’d share my thoughts y’know completely and utterly innocent like.

✶ hope you had the best day alli, baby!! ‹𝟹

oh harls, my beautiful, beautiful quinn lover.

of course quinn would be in the need of some…rage activities once he got home. he’d be seething the entire bus ride back to the hotel, thinking about how cocky those assholes on the kings were all night. i mean, the hit on brock? the multiple intentional penalties? the cheap move from clarke?

it was all he could do to contain himself until his penalty, finally having had enough of the nasty plays. and while he was letting himself seethe and stew in his hatred, all he could think about is the fact you’re going to be waiting in his hotel room for him.

when he walks through the door, you’re laying on the king sized bed, having received his text he sent you from the locker room directly after the game.

naked. on the bed. now. absolutely no touching yourself (trust me, i’ll fucking know). don’t move until i say so.

he made you send him a picture for confirmation, wanting to know you’ll be so worked up in anticipation by the time he walks through that door you’ll be putty in his hands.

and while he’s already worked up and agitated from the game, the sight of your hand snaked between your legs, head thrown back onto his pillow, soft pants falling from your lips, has him seeing red.

he drops his bag loudly, seeing as you were so lost in the feeling of your own fingers you didn’t hear the heavy door open and shut.

the sound finally startles you out of your blissful state, arms flying up to cover yourself in a panic, dropping them to rest on your stomach when you realize it’s just quinn. the look on his face, however, does nothing to calm your racing heart.

“thought i told you specifically not to touch yourself,” he grits out, clenching his jaw so tightly he could barely speak.

you still, having been so ready and needy you completely forgot about the rule. sitting there, bare pussy exposed to the chill of the room, was torturous in the best way. you could feel yourself drip onto the freshly made bed, so the initial contact was simply the swipe of a finger to try and prevent any further mess. but the warm contrast of your finger on the cold slick of your cunt felt too good, spurring you to give your clit just a brief touch. just enough to hold you over.

before you knew it, you heard the thud of quinn’s bag and clearing of his throat, not even remembering how you ended up knuckle deep in your own core.

“i-i’m so sorry. it’s just, it was cold, and i was so wet, so i tried to clean myself up a bit, but my finger was so warm, and then i thought just one touch wouldn’t hurt,” you ramble out one long run-on sentence trying to plead your case.

“oh, i see” he starts walking towards you, quickly stripping himself of his t-shirt. “you were so ready for me, that you couldn’t wait on me, is that it?”

your face heats, realizing how pathetic it all is, really.

“well, when you put it like that…” you can’t even make eye contact with him, looking down at his hands instead.

quinn starts to untie the string on his sweatpants, letting them drop and walking right out of them as he comes to a stop at the end of the large bed.

“yeah…that’s what i thought,” he smacks his teeth at you in disapproval, shaking his head back and forth.

you take in the sight of him before you. toned body, pale skin, and my god, the hair. you’ve always been one to love body hair on a man, but seeing his large, exposed thighs, and the perfect dusting of the thick, dark hairs all over them, has your hand itching to find its way back between your slick folds.

he starts to palm himself over his boxers, earning a whimper from you in return. the noise piques his interest, eyebrow raising as he looks down at you.

“oh…you want this?” he reaches down to free his thick cock, sighing at the relief of the cloth restriction.

you don’t know if you should respond or not, scared of the consequences either way. you decide on an eager nod, mouth nearly watering at the sight.

“yeah, figured you did. always so needy, so ready to be whatever i need you be,” he says dismissively. “and lucky for you, i need this tonight, too. or i’d make you sit here and watch me stroke myself until i couldn’t take anymore, spewing everything i have all over you and this bed before making you go to sleep needy and unsatisfied. your punishment for touching yourself before i could get here.”

he must be able to see the panic in your eyes at the possibility, knowing he’s upset but surely he’s not that upset with you.

“but,” he starts, rubbing his thumb over his pink tip, “i think what i have planned is punishment enough. plus, i need you tonight, my sweet girl. need you to be my vice, my cure for all these…feelings i have pent up.”

you feel the physical jolt your core does, causing your body to flinch.

quinn discards his underwear entirely, placing one knee on the plush bed to start making his way to your body. you’re still sprawled out, skin buzzing at the thought of his touching yours.

once he’s hovering above you on all fours, he brings his head down to place a feather light kiss to your lips. when he pulls away, you chase him, pouting at the barely there contact.

“nope. only kiss you’ll get tonight, i’m afraid,” he sits up on his knees, in-between your open legs.

you whine out, always loving the hot, open-mouth kisses you two share while he’s inside of you.

“ehh, no more whining, either. should’ve thought about that before you broke the rules,” he scolds you, bringing his hands down to move your legs up, bending both of your knees so your feet rest flat on the bed.

once your knees are bent, he takes your hands that were resting on your stomach and splay them out on their respective sides.

“now, since you didn’t do like i asked you to so nicely, even though i’m so, so mad tonight, no touching me,” he looks down into your eyes as he says it, making sure you understand his rules.

“so, no kissing, no touching, no whining? what, i’m basically your sex doll tonight?” you sass him, rolling your eyes.

now, you expected a reaction out of him. it was your intent, actually. you expected a small smack to the leg, or a wagging finger with a stern look.

what you didn’t expect was to feel his hand come up and grasp your face, squishing your cheeks together so hard you’re forced to bite them just to allow any sort of give from the pressure.

he jerks your face to look at him, bringing his own so close you can feel his hot, angry breath on your face.

“that’s exactly right. you’re my doll tonight. mine to use as i see fit. however i want. you know why?” he pauses, heaving breaths in and out as he waits, as if you’d actually be able to answer him. “because i’m mad. i’m mad that the stupid kings thought they could beat up on my team tonight and get away with it. i’m mad that brock was taken out during the first period because of a purposeful hit. i’m mad, because the one thing i asked you to do, you couldn’t fucking do it.”

he’s seething at this point, an animalistic kind of anger radiating through his body.

your heart races in both fear and excitement. you hardly ever get to see this side of quinn, and you don’t know exactly what all was said or done on that ice tonight, but you’re sure you’re going to be able to feel the effects of it all for the next few days to come.

he releases your cheeks roughly, standing tall on his knees.

“since you claim you were so wet earlier you just couldn’t resist starting without me, too drunk on your own fingers to know what you were doing, you shouldn’t need any help then, should you?” he asks, reaching down to feel the arousal pooling in your exposed heat.

you want to whine. you want to whine and protest and complain, but before you can even think about breaking another rule of his, your breath is knocked from your lungs.

without any warning whatsoever, quinn slams into you completely, leaving no inch of your canal untouched. on instinct, you start to reach your arms up to grasp onto him, needing to ground yourself to him.

“i wouldn’t, if i was you,” he growls out, pulling out completely before slamming into you again, gripping one of your hips for stability.

dropping them back down to the mattress, you grasp the sheets so tightly you worry you’ll rip them.

your body jolts with each slam of his rigid cock into your hole, completely removing himself each time before snapping his hips so forcefully you swear you can feel it in your throat.

“god, have no clue how fucking angry i’ve been tonight”, he huffs out, not faltering his pace. “all night, watched those smug goons think they could do whatever they wanted, to whoever they wanted. then the refs wouldn’t even let me return the favor when given the chance. it’s bullshit,” he spits with a particularly harsh thrust.

you’re trying your best to lay there, unmoving, occupying your hands with the soft cotton underneath you. a choked sob of pleasure makes its way out when he hits a spot so deep inside of you, you had no clue it existed until this moment.

“but knew i was gonna get to come home to you,” he continues, distracted momentarily by the bounce of your tits with each thrust. “my sweet, sweet girl who always listens to what i say. who’s always so ready to do what i need her to do for me.”

he reaches up to pinch one of your hard nipples. you flinch, but remember to keep your hands down.

“and imagine my surprise, when i walk in the door to see you already making yourself feel good after i told you to wait on me,” he switches his hand to your other nipple, show it some attention. “made me so fucking angry all over again. was so prepared to come in and take care of you, low and slow all night. a treat for you and for me. but you just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”

at this point, even if you wanted to speak you couldn’t. you’re quite literally being fucked dumb right now. the effort of keeping your body still isn’t even a challenge anymore, limbs so heavy with pleasure you’re basically his to manipulate and use as he wishes.

you don’t even feel your orgasm approaching. one second you’re listening to his frustrations, the next you’re half deaf and seeing stars.

quinn stutters only slightly, abandoning his touch on your tits to move his hand to your throbbing clit.

“god, this was so fucking easy. this turn you on? me mad at you, not letting you do what you want, just like i didn’t get to do what i wanted?” he talks you through your bliss, watching your body shake and shiver while he continues his deep thrusts.

his fast circles on your clit don’t ease up, even after you’ve come down from your high. you try to wiggle your body away, your sensitivity making you squirm.

quinn’s grip on your hip tightens, halting your movement.

“don’t fucking move,” growls at you, basking at how easy it is for him to glide in and out of you, his dick covered in your release. “you’re gonna give me another one, i don’t care how sensitive you are. know you can do it. my own little slut.”

the name surprises you, quinn never really has been one for using stuff like that in the bedroom. you’d be lying if you said it didn’t cause the feelings of another release to start swirling again, though.

his resolve starts to deteriorate, but he’s determined to milk one more from you before he enjoys his own release.

“c’mon. it’s the least you can do f’me, really,” he grunts, somehow rubbing even faster circles on your swollen bundle of nerves. “after no one at the game would let me retaliate, and after i had to sit in the fucking box for two minutes for just returning a little bit of what they dished out all night, giving me all you’ve got isn’t a lot to ask, is it?”

you try to shake your head, but the increased pace of his forceful thrusts causes your head to bob all over the place.

he can feel your walls starting to flutter again already, knowing it won’t take much to send you over the edge.

keeping his hand in between your legs, applying both pressure and friction to your clit now, he bends his body over to attach his mouth to your tit, showing the the area attention once again. he swirls his tongue around your sensitive nub.

the feeling alone is delectable, causing you to writhe in pleasure. but the second you feel his teeth encase the delicate bud, biting down, you explode yet again.

you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your life. you cry out, so loud and so pornographic quinn worries someone will complain, but loving every second of the sound.

you’re convulsing underneath him, tears leaking from your closed eyes at the intensity of the pleasure radiating throughout your body.

“fuck, that’s it. swear your pussy’s trying to trap me in there, doesn’t want me to leave,” quinn groans, feeling like his dick is literally being suctioned into your body.

after a few more sloppy thrusts, his balls tighten and he coats your walls with his release. he moans out, mixing with your perfect whimpers and whines as the shocks of his own orgasm cause you to twitch.

after he’s sure your body has sucked him dry, quinn pulls out of you, pushing your knees down so he can roll over to the side of you, throwing his own tired body in the mattress.

you both lay beside one another, panting and letting your bodies catch back up to you. he reaches over to grab your hand, every ounce of anger having left his body through his orgasm.

he’s back to being his usual, soft self, as he rolls over to place a kiss to your temple.

you’ve come to a little bit, turning your head to look over at his smiling face.

“maybe…maybe i should start a pact with these teams you play each week to make you mad and rile you up during games more often,” you softly speak, voice slightly hoarse from your orgasmic screaming. “if this is what i get in return, think it’d be worth the price,” you smirk at quinn.

he lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, bringing a hand to brush some hair out of your face, finally placing a real kiss to your lips.

when he pulls back you open your eyes to admire him, but are met with a serious, stern expression.

“don’t push it.”

[thesecretestblogever]

can i request quinn hughes x reader accidental i love you’s with mybe sleepy domestic sex

pairing : quinn hughes x reader

w.c. : 1.4k

warnings : MDNI 18+; none really - sweet fluff, unprotected p in v, quinn saying i love u for the first time while having sex

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The warm summer sun streaming through the curtains isn’t the only thing that wakes you up. Your legs are entangled with another’s and the sheets are a complete mess. The edges of fuzzy and dark sleep threaten to consume you once more, but a soft pair of lips presses sweet kisses to your neck.

You hum at the intrusion, feeling your boyfriend’s arms hold you tightly against his chest. You’re sure it's probably nearing the afternoon now. Quinn was never one to sleep in, but when it’s the first relaxing weekend at the lake house, the boys decided to invite people over to enjoy the water, the boat, and a late night bonfire. Even now, the remnants of the smoke cling to your hair and pajamas and you know you’ll have to take a shower when you finally pull yourself from the warm embrace of the bed.

This is also the first time you’ve been invited to the house. You started dating Quinn only six months ago, and it has been a whirlwind. This is the first time you’ve felt like you’ve actually been able to relax and enjoy being a couple. He was always good at texting and facetimes despite being extremely busy and stressed during the season, but nothing compared to having uninterrupted time together. 

You raise your arms above your head and stretch your whole body, the muscles tightening and stiffening when you feel it….

“Ah, I see why you’re waking me up now,” you laugh softly and let him continue peppering your neck, shoulder, and arm with kisses.

“Can you blame a guy?” Quinn squeezes you tighter against him, the erection barely contained by the soft boxers he’s wearing. His bare chest presses hot against your back - you’re in nothing but one of his shirts and underwear. His hand pushes the material out of the way as it ghosts up to grab your boob and squeeze the flesh softly.

You melt into him, pushing your hips back into his crotch and swirling them gently. Everything is soft and warm and you could stay here all day just reveling in his touch. He’s always been a good lover, talented at making you come undone with his fingers, his mouth, his cock. He’s attentive and responsive, always listening to your body and what earns him a moan or a twitch.

His hand leaves your chest to slide down your stomach and cup your pussy, pressing his fingers there. You’re heating up quickly, his touches so light and teasing that you yearn for more. You tilt your head back so he can have better access to your neck and his lips move slowly up over your jugular, pausing to suck lightly before moving on. You crane your neck so your lips can finally attach to his, the heat of his mouth and his tongue licking into you. It’s slow and sleepy, and your skin is buzzing. He’s in no rush, despite the hardness that’s pressing into your ass. He kisses you like you have all the time in the world. It’s a welcome change to the mid-season heated quickies in the training room or a blowjob before he has to run to practice. 

When he grows tired of rubbing you over your panties, his hand pushes past the hem to touch you directly. You’re already wet, the slickness growing as every second passes. He has a way of igniting the fire in your veins, and you whimper quietly as his fingers circle your clit before sinking into you. Your hips move in tandem with his fingers thrusting into you and curling against the soft spot inside of you. He drinks in your moans, your pleasure making him so hard he fears he might snap. His hips rock against your ass, seeking some kind of friction and relief. 

He’s losing patience now, and he removes his fingers from you to pull himself from his boxers. He trails his dick through your thighs, collecting the wetness and coating himself in it before carefully pushing into you. His head falls into the crook of your shoulder as he begins to move.

“So wet for me, baby?” he breathed into your shoulder and goosebumps erupt across your skin.

His cock drags against the inside of you, filling you and then leaving you nearly empty the next second. You feel every inch over and over again and your world narrows to the feeling of Quinn’s body consuming yours. His thrusts are maddeningly slow, just enough to  elicit a dark heat deep in your belly, but the flame stays low and unprovoked. 

His quiet whimpers into your skin are what really stokes the flame. You’re so tight and dripping for him, he feels like he might explode already. His hands push your shirt up and out of the way so he can paw at your chest more, his hand alternating between squeezing them and pinching your nipples. You gasp out, your fingers twisting in the sheets. You're falling apart quickly under his touch and you move your hips back to meet every thrust. 

“Fuuuuck, I think I love you,” he groans out. It tumbles from his lips before he can help it. He can’t deny how much peace and happiness you’ve brought him since you started dating. Hockey is a brutal sport, both on and off the ice. Trying to keep a team together, dealing with not only his injuries but his friends, and putting on a brave face for the cameras takes its toll. Seeing you makes the static in his brain quiet and though you haven’t been dating for long, he can’t imagine his life without you. He trusted you enough to bring you home with him, to his most special place where he unwinds for a short while before returning to the battlefield. 

You’ve been waiting for this moment. You knew Quinn loved you - it showed in the way he looked at you, the things he did for you, and the way he trusted you when he was vulnerable. You felt the exact same way. To be honest, you didn’t expect him to say it first. He was so reserved, but the heat of the moment broke him from that and the words filled the room.

Quinn froze, but you didn’t. You flipped around, him slipping from your heat as you turned to face him. His cheeks were red like he was embarrassed that his first “I love you” happened on accident while he was fucking you. 

“I think I love you, too,” you reassured him and kissed him face to face. When you pull back to gaze into his sage green eyes, a smile breaks out on his face. He positions himself again to push into you, filling you wholly and perfectly. Your legs wrap around his torso, your nails biting into the skin on his back as you clutch him to you. His hips hit into yours with a purpose now, driven by your confessions. 

“You’re so perfect,” he moans, pushing your legs up to pin them against your chest as he drives his cock into you. The slow movements of moments before have been abandoned and replaced by the sharp, pointed thrusts that hit your deepest spots. 

“Q, don’t stop, baby,” you grab onto the brunette locks on the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss you as you come undone around him. The warmth explodes through and you fear you’ll just evaporate. A strained moan rips from his throat as you clamp down on him, your cunt fluttering and pulsing around him. He spills into you, his hips stuttering short thrusts into you before settling. His body envelopes you in it’s warmth as you come down from your highs and he’s already placing more kisses across your chest and collarbone.

“God, we probably stink so bad,” you laugh as your fingers comb through his long hair. You dread the day he decides it's time to cut it. The combined scents of old bonfire and sex are not the most pleasant, and you plan on a shower, bringing Quinn with you. And if you get distracted while in there? You have all day to enjoy each other. You have time to talk about things later, and choose to enjoy the heavy satisfaction that fills your heart now instead. 

[calritchie21]

[demonic0angel]

Inmate Dan part 2 where he meets the other orange jumpsuit "friends" in Arkham Asylum?

Part 1, part 3

"Ooh, Wraith!" Harley called, pointing to Jonathan. "That's Scarecrow! We call 'em Johnny!"

"No, you don't," he spat. "What're you doing here, Harley?"

"That's Dr. Quinzel to you, Dr. Crane!" Harley said faux-pompously, sticking out her tongue.

Wraith paused and his eyes lit up. "Wait, Dr. Quinzel? Youngest psychiatrist in the tri-state area? And Dr. Crane? Professor at Gotham University?"

Ivy leaned closer to Wraith and hissed a warning, "Stay away from him. He once drove two inmates to suicide only by speaking. He's dangerous."

Wraith grinned and his teeth flashed with fangs as he stared at Jonathan with interest. "Hello, Doctor," Wraith said, his deep voice almost a purr, "Could I get an autograph, please?”

Jonathan stared at him cooly and then he nodded once, although he looked slightly confused.

Wraith slipped a hand inside of himself, making everyone around him pause in shock as he then pulled out a textbook and a pen. He handed it to Jonathan, who stared at the textbook with a strange look before signing it. As Wraith placed it back inside of himself, he pulled out another book and let Harley sign it.

Delightedly, she realized that it was a book that she published.

“You’re a meta,” Jonathan said. “You seem powerful, so why didn’t you escape? How come you were captured?”

Wraith shrugged with a light smile. “My sister told me to relax and enjoy myself here. She also told me to explore what I want. I heard that there was a particularly hated criminal in here, so I wanted to see what the fuss was all about, so I let myself be captured.” He sighed a little. “My little birdie also personally handcuffed me, so I couldn’t get out.”

Harley tilted her head, catching onto a piece of information. “Who was it that you were interested in?”

“Someone named Clown? Jester? No, it was….”

“Joker,” everyone besides Wraith muttered disdainfully. They were all criminals who did violent things, but no one was as vile as the Joker.

Wraith hummed and nodded. “Yes, him. I wanted to see what he looked like. Thank you for signing the book, Dr. Quinzel, Dr. Crane. My sister is a huge fan and she’s studying psychiatry right now.”

Both Jonathan and Harley smiled. “That’s good!” Harley squealed. “Tell her that I’m rooting for her!”

Wraith nodded with a small, genuine smile, and Harley then dragged him around to introduce him to the other inmates, Ivy following behind as a silent guard.

He was surprisingly civil. Wraith treated Waylon with no fear or disgust despite his appearance, chatted calmly about law with Harvey (since his sister also studied law. She seemed to be a sort of genius), exchanged riddles and puzzles with Edwin, and was generally pleasant and even friendly to the other inmates.

However, he couldn’t hide his true nature to Harley. Wraith didn't allow anyone to touch him unless he initiated it. Although he seemed calm and collected, he was unable to hide his disgust and hatred of the general population. It seemed as though in general, he hated everyone around him. He had no fear of the guards and even seemed amused by the more frightening prisoners of Arkham Asylum. Although he was polite, it was clear that he hated them all, even Harley and Ivy.

Harley was utterly fascinated.

Eventually, after exploring the yard where the many inmates were lingering around, Wraith asked, “Where’s the Joker?”

Ivy answered, “He’s in solitude. He’s too dangerous to be around.”

Wraith frowned. “Where’s that?”

Harley giggled and said, “You wanna see him that badly? Maybe I’ll show you!” She wanted to see more of Wraith’s reactions, to study him like a bug. She also wanted to see what it would take to make Wraith enjoy her and Ivy’s presences.

“Harley!” Ivy scolded. “I don’t want you around him anymore! He’s a hazard to your safety and health!”

“It’s fineeee,” Harley said, dancing around her playfully, “I can take it! I just wanna show Wraith what he looks like! I promise not to fall for Mr. J anymore! Pleaseee, Ivy?”

In the end, Ivy relented and they snuck to the area of the asylum where the Joker stayed.

They dodged past the lazy guards and eventually, they were in front of the Joker’s cell. Harley stepped in front of his cage, suppressing a shiver as she looked inside.

There he was, her worst nightmare, wrapped up in a straitjacket and already watching her with a cold, cold gaze and a wide smile.

Why had she done this again?

The Joker laughed when she saw her. “Harley!” He crooned. “Here to release me? I knew you’d come around.”

This time, Harley couldn’t suppress the full shudder. “No thanks!” She snapped. “I’m not your lil doll anymore! You can’t order me around!”

The Joker’s friendly expression immediately twisted into a glare as he snarled. “I made you! And I can break you. You’re nothing but a harlequin, a toy for me to do what I want with! You’re nothing without me!”

Ivy bristled and she moved to pull back Harley, who was almost in tears, when Wraith moved first. He phased through the metal doors and with one casual click of bones breaking, the Joker laid slumped into his cell, quieted forever.

Wraith stepped back out and both Ivy and Harley scrambled to look back inside, recognizing the sound of a neck snapping, but unable to comprehend how easily it took.

Harley sputtered, “W-W-What?!”

Wraith shrugged.

“He was annoying. And I hate clowns.”

[amourtoken]

any quinn visuals but ones that show his breeding kink?? 😳

Been thinkin abt this so here's ur treat pookie <3

Letting him hit it raw for the first time? He's taking advantage of it

Quinn's the type to yap about how pretty you're gonna look pregnant against your lips while he's inside you like this

Taking a vid to take with him on roadies

Another "lake house before anyone else wakes up" type vibe

Spit kink Quinn save me

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

Hi! Can you talk about every day, casual dom Quinn? Because he just oozes it and I need him

i love this, i love this, i love this. i feel like Quinn is just naturally dominant. like im talking to whole nine, not just in the bedroom. i actually think he’s okay with letting you take control in the bedroom once in a while.

outside of the bedroom? no. no way in hell. he wants your every day life to be easy. he wants your brain to feel comfortable to just shut off. you don’t need to worry your pretty little head when he’s around.

he’s waking up before you, he’s getting the coffee ready and breakfast going and your vitamins ready. then he’ll go wake you up, soft and sweet. hands on your cheek, whispering “hey sweet girl, time to get up. got breakfast ready in the kitchen for you.”

he’s helping you in the shower, throwing your towels and robe in the dryer while you shower. he’s getting all your stuff on the counter ready, outfit set, skincare ready. when you’re out he’s brushing your hair, blow drying it and even braiding it if you have a big day ahead of you.

he’s making sure your side of the bed is ready, he’s making sure your book is on the nightstand and your bedtime tea is ready.

if you’re out in public, his hand is comfortably on your back or your thigh. you’re always closest to the sidewalk and he’s got your fingers in his hand bc he likes how small you feel in his palm.

he’s doing the grocery shopping, he knows what you need at all times.

when he’s on a roadie? you send him your outfits every morning and you check in when you leave and get to wherever you go and you always tell him what you’re doing through the day and how you miss him.

if you’re comfortable and content, that’s all he wants. then he’s happy.

[djotime-allthetime]

Freaky Red Carpet

synopsis: your final red carpet appearance with fred for gladiator ii. (your first public appearance as a couple?)

wc: 4k+

warnings: rpf! reader is specified to be inexperienced!

a/n: same general vibes as the last one but more introspective ig, but we go into more specifics here as well as some backstory.

italics are supposed to be comments under tiktok clips of the premiere. feedback is writer's fuel!

cross posted on AO3

<<previous part

The screams and chaos of the premiere crashed over you as you stepped out of the car, a security guard’s hand reached for yours to steady you. This was it, the final big event. Even though it wasn’t over just yet, the nostalgia was creeping in, soft but persistent.

“Hey, pretty girl.” Fred’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He stood only a few steps ahead of you, having just arrived himself. Your gaze softened, lingering on Fred, oblivious to the cameras snapping away. “You look…” His gaze dipped once—then again—tracing your figure. A soft, unguarded smile tugged at his lips, as if he didn’t realize he was doing it. As if he was completely enraptured by you. “You’re stunning, you know that?”

The ability to speak escaped you for only a moment, the words caught in your throat. “...Fred, you can’t-”

“No, I’m serious.” He shook his head, eyebrows raised. He walked forward and placed his hands on your shoulders, holding you in place to continue studying you, as if he was in awe. “Look at you.” His eyes finally found yours again. “You’re gorgeous, y/n.”

“Thank you.” The words felt stronger than your voice. You weren’t insecure—you knew you looked good tonight. But having someone say it like that—having Fred say it like that, like he couldn’t even keep the thought to himself—it nearly brought you to tears.

A deafening roar of cameras and voices dragged you back to reality. The glow of flashing lights blurred at the corners of your vision, and distant shouts of your name cut through the haze. You straightened your posture instinctively, smoothing invisible creases in your dress. But Fred could see it. He could see that small moment you tried to keep to yourself.

“Hey, come here.” He spoke softly, less of a request and more of a warning of the oncoming embrace. He pressed his hands between your shoulders blades once you settled into him, chin hooked against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head vehemently, the silky smooth finish of his suit rubbing against your neck. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I made you emotional.”

“You always make me emotional.” You chuckled, voice light to keep the tears at bay, unsure why they even came in the first place. “You look incredibly handsome tonight.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, his smile and excitement clear in his voice.

“Of course.” You pulled away and jerked your chin at his outfit. “We’re almost matching.”

With a quick second look at the color scheme of your outfit compared to his, Fred’s eyes lit up. “We are!”

“I think Grant and Leslie set us up.” You squinted your eyes conspiratorially. “I heard them talking about ‘all black looks’ yesterday.”

“Really?” He raised his brows at the information. “Come to think of it, Leslie refused to even entertain any of my suggestions today.” Fred laughed it off and reached down to hold you. His hands smoothly slid down your arms until they arrived at your hands, interlacing your fingers together. “Come on.” He tilted his head toward the carpet behind him. “Walk with me.”

“Down the carpet?” You gawked, frozen in place as he gently pulled you in the direction of the flashing lights.

“Yeah pretty, down the carpet.” Fred chuckled like you were joking. “It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“You wanna take pictures with me? Like us- together?” You whispered to Fred, not fully paying attention to the cameras already catching every moment. As Fred’s hand tightened around yours, you realized.

You weren’t exactly hiding this—not entirely. Your blossoming relationship, that is. Keeping things personal and quiet felt right for both of you. But this—walking a red carpet together—had never been part of the plan.

“‘Course I wanna take pictures with you.” Fred answered, eyes soft but certain. “We worked super closely on this movie, y/n. I don’t think people will over analyze if we take pictures together on the carpet.” He shrugged. His words meant more than that, though. You knew he meant that you could do whatever you wanted. That you shouldn’t limit yourself in your relationship just because you wanted boundaries. Keeping it private didn’t mean keeping it a secret, like you were doing something wrong. 

“Besides, you’re my Lovie.” His voice softened, almost shy, like he wasn’t sure if you’d still claim the title in front of all these people.

Your neck grew warm at his words.

Lovie.

That was the name you and Fred called your deliberately unnamed character throughout filming. Caracalla called her ‘my love’ almost exclusively in the script. So it became your quick shorthand between each other. And soon after, the rest of the cast and crew called your character that as well. But it was different with Fred. After a while, it stopped being her name for him. It was you. You were his Lovie.

“Oh- Okay, yeah.” You nodded at Fred, accepting the idea of walking the carpet together, though still slightly apprehensive. 

“Yeah?” He asked again, just to make sure. And with another nod from you, Fred’s victorious smile lingered as his hand settled on the small of your back, sending sparks up your spine. “Gotta show off my girl,” he murmured, his hand pressing a little firmer into you. You weren’t sure if he wanted you to hear that or not, but you did. The way Fred could unravel you, seemingly without even trying, felt wildly unfair—like every tender gesture was second nature to him. 

He led you up the crimson steps, where the carpet shimmered beneath camera flashes and distant voices blurred into a roar. Your name and Fred’s were being called from every which way. Before you could stand still and face a specific group of photographers, Fred moved away from your side all of a sudden, his steps quick and fluid. 

“Fred?” you asked, instinctively glancing over your shoulder.

“One second.” His voice was low, nearly lost in the noise. When you turned, you saw Fred at your other side by your feet. He crouched smoothly to get closer to what he was after. The train of your dress. It wasn’t that long, but the small trek up the stairs had it all misshapen. With precise movements, he tugged at the fabric to position it into place. After he straightened it out sufficiently, he stood back up and stepped around his handiwork to come back at your side, arm looping around your waist to pull you back into him.

“You didn’t have to do all that.” You looked up at him through your lashes as your hands came up to rest against his chest. You adjusted his lapels in a subconscious attempt to return the favor, brushing away the imaginary lint on his chest and shoulders. Fred visibly blushed at your words, your hands on him, the way that you were looking at him, all of it. You displayed your emotions in a way that even he couldn’t dismiss. Not that he would want to. He loved it. Every moment. Being cared for so openly made his heart flutter and his ears turn red, it was exhilarating.

“I wanted to.” He reassured you, head nodding down softly, a subtle attempt at getting closer to you.

A piercing shout of your name followed by a burst of blinding light shattered the quiet moment.

The soft bubble you and Fred had built around yourselves burst, replaced by the harsh glare of cameras and the relentless hum of the crowd.

You dropped your hands from Fred’s chest, suddenly aware of how close you were.

But Fred’s hand stayed where it was, anchoring you in the thrashing waves of it all.

You turned this way and that, following the voices of photographers as they shouted out different poses they wanted to see.

“I could get used to this.” Fred spoke quietly, leaning down to whisper into your ear. 

You frowned in confusion and turned to look at him. “Which part exactly?” You asked. 

“Having the prettiest girl in the world on my arm.”

“Was this your plan tonight?” You couldn’t hide your grin no matter how hard you tried. “To kill me with compliments?”

“Not a bad way to die, no?” Fred furrowed his brows in faux seriousness, his mouth twitching in that way it did, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes with a giggle. “You’re a horrible man, Fred Hechinger.”

‘idk if they’re together or not and i want to be respectful but theyre literally the cutest people ever and if its true then theyre perfect for each other 🥺 truly wish them the best’

‘the mouth thing he does is actually the cutest thing ive ever seen’ ↳ ‘hottest. i think you mean hottest.’

‘look at the matching outfits!! i can’t! theyre too frickin cute!!!’ ↳ ‘its just all black lol y’all read into things too much 🙄’

‘we need a lip reader up in here 🗣️🗣️’

‘we love a man who knows the importance of the dress’

‘how does she just look better and better at each public appearance?!’

‘this is flirting one million percent’

‘either theyre together or theyre idiots, because this just might be true love’

‘we can’t assume that every interaction in hollywood means something more than it is, give them the privacy they deserve!’

‘what are they SAYINGGGG?!!?!’ ↳ ‘it definitely looks like he said ‘prettiest girl in the world’ there at the end, right?? call me crazy, but i can see his mouth moving so clearly it has to be it!’ ↳ ‘you’re definitely crazy, but also you’re definitely right’ ↳ ‘you’re right!!!! isn't that so relationship goals??’

Towards the end of the carpet, the rest of the cast were gathered to take a group photo. Paul saw the two of you approaching and his eyes lit up. 

“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” He teased the two of you. “Been waiting all night!”

“Sorry,” you ducked your head as you confessed, smiling sheepishly. “Entirely my fault. I came late.”

“Ah, come here.” Paul laughed as he brushed it off and pulled you into a hug. “You look stunning.”

“And you’re handsome as ever.” You returned the compliment.

Paul pulled Fred into his side once you withdrew. You saw him whisper something into Fred’s ear, and Fred laughed and whispered something back, but you couldn’t quite make any of it out. 

When Fred pulled away, you shook your head at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. A small way of asking ‘What was that about?’ Fred smiled and shook his head, ‘Don’t worry about it.’

“Alright, you two!” Paul clapped his hands, breaking the moment. “Picture time!”

“Do I look okay?” You turned to Fred, hand coming up to make sure your hair was in place. You were facing him now, your colleagues to one side of you and the expanse of the carpet on the other side. 

“You always look perfect.” He answered, eyes struggling to stay on yours. Always dipping down to your neck, your shoulders, your waist. He had to get a hold of himself, he thought. 

As you raised your arm to make sure your earrings were on properly, one of your bracelets snagged at the neckline of your dress. Nothing had happened yet, but if you moved in the wrong way, you’d have a horrible wardrobe malfunction on your hands. A soft ‘Oh!’ escaped you as you realized what was happening. Fred’s eyes darted from yours to your hand, where your eyes were fixated on something.

“What happened?” He mumbled as he quickly moved you with his hands on your elbows and simultaneously stood in front of you, making sure the scene was as difficult as possible for the cameras to capture.

“My bracelet’s stuck,” you explained, eyebrows furrowed and eyes zoned in on the tangle. 

His hands quickly covered yours, gently moving your fingers out of the way. “Here, let me.”

You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “You’re like my own personal assistant today.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a small smile, still working on your bracelet, glad that you seemed to be enjoying yourself even now.

He was a bit worried about you today, especially after he initially saw you at the entrance to the carpet. He knew the high of working on this project was coming down for you and he wanted to be there to support you through it all. 

“Mhm,” you nodded, “first the train of my dress, now this. What next? You’re gonna pull out a powder puff and take care of the shine on my forehead?”

“If this suit had big enough pockets, I’d pull out a plane and fly us out of here.”

“Where would we go?” You laughed.

“I don’t know, the Maldives? Russia? The moon?” Fred laughed with you as he pulled your hand back down, your bracelet and your dress back to their previous intact positions.

“Well, I already told you two that I want to go take pictures.” Paul’s voice broke the bubble that seemed to continuously form around the two of you. He stood next to you and placed a hand on your and Fred’s shoulders. “Hate to ruin the moment, lovebirds, but there’s only so much time before the movie starts inside.”

Paul pushed the two of you towards the spot prepared for the photos. Ahead of you was the rest of the cast, all lined up. Pedro Pascal, Connie Neilsen, Joseph Quinn, and Denzel Washington all stood together chatting and laughing. Paul went and stood next to Pedro, and Joseph made room for Fred between him and Denzel. You slid up next to Paul, feeling like it was the best fit for you between the group of people without causing another shuffle. 

Paul scanned the lineup, eyes flicking between you and Fred when his eyes narrowed slightly. “This won’t do.”

Without another word, he began casually nudging people aside, muttering something to Pedro, giving Joseph a knowing look. Slowly but deliberately, he carved out a space beside Fred.

A space for you.

“There. Much better,” he smirked, stepping back to admire his handiwork. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder and pulled you into place.

Your cheeks burned as Fred grinned and tugged you closer into his side. Joseph smiled knowingly at you and draped an arm across your shoulders.

Paul darted back to his place and in turn the cameras flashing intensified.

‘paul fred and y/n seem like such good friends i could cry 😢’

‘we all know paul has tiktok and hes in the loop, this man knows exactly what hes doing to us fred x y/n shippers’

‘HIM FIXING HER DRESS LIKE THAT? TOMDAYA 2.0! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS 😩’

‘guys! a lip reader figured this one out! paul: ‘you’re smitten and you’re not being subtle about it’ and FRED SAID ‘who said i wanna be subtle?’ IS HE NOT THE CUTEST BOYFRIEND IN THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD?’ ↳‘paul ships it, he’s on our team’ ↳ ‘and he was telling her how good she looks at the other end of the carpet, did you see?’ ↳ ‘at one point he even says ‘you’re my love’ and i just about melted’ ↳ ‘no he said ‘lovie’! that’s what caracalla calls her in that one scene! NO SPOILERS GUYS!!!’

‘FRED THE MAN THAT YOU ARE!!!’

‘i can’t tell if i want y/n or if i want to be her’

‘paul making sure y/n is next to fred during the group photo’ ↳ ‘did you see how joseph looked at them!! everyone ships these two!’ ↳ ‘goes to show how literally everyone is rooting for these two’ ↳ ‘so true! they’re the cutest couple ive ever seen i feel like a proud mom’

‘first he fixes the train of her dress, next he helps her when her bracelet gets stuck, then what? huh? i die? is that what these two want from me?’

‘never getting over the cast making sure theyre next to each other in the group pic, theyre so loved’ ↳ ‘you mean paul specifically lol’

After a few pictures were snapped, a coordinator in charge of the media coverage told you to reshuffle. They wanted a few photos of Fred with Joseph and Denzel, and some of just the two of them. Some of Connie and Pedro, and some with Paul as well. A mixture of photos that represented their work together on screen. And of course they wanted some of you and Fred, and some with Joseph. And the last group on the list was you, Fred, and Paul.

When Paul came to join you, he placed his arm across Fred's on your lower back, both of their hands now landing on either side of your waist. “Hey,” He smiled warmly at you. “You alright?” 

You hummed in confirmation. “Thank you for that, back there.” You tilted your head to the side, knowing Paul would understand that you meant how he made sure to put you next to Fred in the group photo.

“I have no clue what you're talking about.” He smirked, eyes fixed forwards on the cameras. But his hand squeezing lightly at your waist told you otherwise. He was so perceptive when it came to you, making you feel like you were an open book. It brought you back to a day on set. A long time ago. When the concept of you and Fred was something you were too afraid to talk about out loud in fear of ruining the magic of it. Your relationship was on the precipice, the very edge of friendship before the ocean of something more.

The day, you had confided in Paul about the very thing that led him to do what he did only moments ago.

~

“You guys are cute.” He had said, catching you admiring your lock screen. It was a picture of you and Fred on a picnic blanket. Paul had taken it the day before. Everyone on set thought it was a nice idea to have lunch outside. The weather was perfect, the grass was green, and there were butterflies everywhere. You and Fred took a blanket for yourselves, to no one’s surprise. 

It was the next day that you were sitting with Paul on the set of the Colosseum and he showed you the picture he took of you. You quickly changed your phone wallpaper after he sent you the photo at your request. It wasn’t anything fancy, his film was still getting developed, though he promised you loads of pictures from that once it was done. This picture was just taken on his phone camera, but it was just as beautiful to you. He was so talented with cameras, capturing each moment beautifully you could almost hear it.

“Thanks.” You replied, avoiding his eyes. It felt strange—this fragile stage of something new unfolding under so many watchful eyes. But you knew that would be a sacrifice that you’d have to make. Especially with how slow you were going with Fred.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Paul asked. You hummed in response, asking for elaboration. “Us watching?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, needing further explanation. He couldn’t read your mind, could he? Was he really asking about the same thing you were thinking of? Were you that easy to read? Maybe to Paul, you were.

“I know you guys are taking it slow,” Paul said softly, like it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to know. Your eyes lifted to meet his. “Fred told me.”

“He talks to you about me?” You asked, your smile evident in the tone of your voice.

“Always.” He replied, smiling just as wide as you unknowingly were. You and Fred were some of his closest friends on set. You all had the same sense of humor and attitude towards life, it was easy to find companionship with the two of you. And he wasn’t surprised that you two found love within each other. But he worried about it at times. “He always talks about you.”

“All good things, I hope.” You chuckled quietly, the smile ever growing on your face as you thought of what Fred might tell Paul in your absence. Maybe he mentioned your weird obsession with stuffed animals, or how you clung to his arm whenever the two of you went for a walk.

After a beat of silence, you remembered his question and your brows knitted in thought. “Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

Paul inhaled through his nose and looked out onto the bleachers ahead of you. “I don’t know… It’s just that- I don’t think I would be comfortable in your position, is all.”

“Why is that?” You knew how you felt about it all, but you always explained away your emotions. A bad habit, you knew. But you were genuinely curious and wanted to hear a somewhat objective opinion on this whole situation. 

“Just feels so-” He looked back at you now, studying you. Hoping, even, to see something telling in your expression at his confession. “Exposed, in a way. Raw. Like these feelings that really only one person should know about are on display to everyone around me.”

“Says the guy who had a first date on a live stream.” You retorted, the playful jab coming quick to mind.

Paul shook his head with a chuckle. “You know what I mean, dickhead.”

Your head cocked to the side as you thought of his words, truly taking them in. “I guess it does kind of make me feel strange.”

“Yeah?” Paul’s brows raised, appraising your face once more.

You nodded with a hum. “I’ve never- I mean, I’ve never really had a proper relationship. I don’t think I can even call this one a proper relationship. Not yet, anyways. And when I really think of it, it does feel a little unfair that what I always thought would be intimate and private is on display like this.”

“I’m sorry.” Paul spoke morosely.

“It’s not your fault.” You smiled softly, placing your hand on his. 

“Feels like it is sometimes.” He admitted. You shot him a questioning look. “‘Cause of the pictures.” He explained. “I just want to capture the moment. For you guys, not for anyone else. But whenever I point a camera your way, it’s like I’m pulling everyone’s attention to you with it. I feel guilty whenever you two are having a moment and everyone’s staring. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I think we’re asking for it a little.” You huffed out a laugh, squinting in the sun. The underlying bitterness in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Paul. “It’s a bit dumb to try and start a relationship in an environment like this. Months on end on one set with the same group of people. It’s annoying to have everyone’s attention like that, but everyone else probably thinks we’re annoying too.”

“No, don’t say that.” Paul shook his head, his eyes sharp as he shot down your self-blame. “You don’t plan out relationships in advance, that’s not how things work. We’re not like normal people, we don’t get to clock out and go home when time’s up. We’ve moved to fuckin’ Malta, we film day and night. We eat, sleep, and breathe on this set. And if something like that does happen, where would you even hide it? You can’t! Not that well anyways… You guys are doing this well. Better than most.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, I do.” He nodded with certainty. “And I… I didn’t know this was your first relationship. I’m sorry. It’s not fair to you.” He apologized again and your heart squeezed. 

“Yeah.” Your lips pressed together in a combination of agreement and embarrassment. “But it’s okay. To answer your question, I mean. I don’t think- I don’t feel uncomfortable.”

“No?”

“No.” You shook your head. “He makes me feel safe—like I’m home. Like we’re in a bubble where nothing bad can happen.”

~

Tucked into Fred’s side, surrounded by the cameras and the noise of the final premiere, you felt that same comfort—like you were in your own bubble with him. There were still interviews, panels, and endless appearances ahead, but this moment felt like the end of something special. And you were grateful that Fred was here, anchoring you through it all.

next part>>

[puck-luck]

plz feed us a little quinn blurb i need him so bad

mattias anon and i were talking about quinn's hand after seeing this pic of the injury the other day:

and i said "how is he meant to finger you in these conditions" and she replied "good thing he has a mouth!" so here is a munch!quinn thought :)

Quinn's eyes are dark as they stare up at you, cataloguing each contortion of your expression. His eyes seem to glint with pride each time his tongue draws a moan from you, alternating between your clit and your entrance.

He'll tease you one minute, then overwhelm you the next. He'll trace his tongue along the rim of your hole before dipping inside, licking into you as far as he can before pulling away. He'll circle his lips around your clit and suck harshly until you're writhing beneath him, latching onto the bundle of nerves the same way he does with your nipples.

Quinn has never been one to complain about having something in his mouth– not when that something is as pretty and as tasty and as vocal as you.

"Does it feel good, baby?" Quinn will ask knowingly, pulling away to give you a moment of reprieve before diving back in.

"Mhm," you hum, high in the back of your throat. You're so pent up from his tongue that yours feels too twisted to form words.

"So sweet," Quinn murmurs, licking a stripe up your cunt with the flat of his tongue. Then, he peppers kisses all over your inner thighs, finally returning to your core to toy with your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks over it rapidly, sending shockwaves through your system.

Quinn's gaze seems to dance with laughter when you arch off the bed and moan, hands flying to his hair and fisting the strands. His eyelids flutter when you pull at the mess of dark waves atop his head, the vibrations from his own moan traveling up your spine.

"Gonna come from just my mouth, baby?" Quinn asks. Sounding extra pitiful, he adds, "It's too bad I can't fuck you with my fingers. I know how you love being full." His face breaks into a smile, smug as he dives back in and prods at your hole. He nudges your clit with his nose, making sure to catch your reaction.

You don't bring up that his other hand works just fine, and he could use that instead, because you're caught up in the way your stomach coils. His tongue pushes past your entrance and pets your walls, and his nose bumps your clit again, and again, and again. Your hips are moving mindlessly, grinding against his face as you chase your orgasm, and Quinn simply looks up at you though his eyelashes. He never enjoys himself quite as much as he does when you use him to find your own climax.

ps! i have a few beaquinn ideas and quinn x reader ideas that i've been playing with in my mind, but i'm trying to finish stg10 at the moment. so those will come one day. i want to be better about posting more often!! i feel like i am not... but that's allowed. just keep letting me know what y'all want to read and i'll add it to the list :)