I go by [ nix ]. I'm in my [ twenties ] and use [ she/her ]. This blog is strictly 18+ MDNI. This is a side-blog for my blurbs with DARK themes. My main blog is @ruinix for other blurbs.
Taglist & Fics are 18+. Here are some important links:
Tag Directory | Filtering Tags Guide | Update
Dark Masterlist | Taglist | Character Nav
Disclaimer | Inbox Rules | Request Format -> Requests: CLOSED
Writing Jar (for tips if you wanna spare some coins 💙)
Reminder that the photos I put on my banners are from Pinterest (much love for the Pinterest Gods 💜). Banners + Breaks are made using Canva by yours truly. I also customized my profile with stickers for MY use only. DO NOT USE.
That's it! Feel free to hit me up with requests/yaps through asks ☺️
Request detail: pls make quinn hughes bleed, pleeeeease (also if i get one more thing: can the reader character in this one be a bit less meek and cutesy? but if not that's cool) (by @everlovingdolly )
Hello, yes, lovely. I shall give 😇 (NO PROOFREAD 🥲😫)
Dark Masterlist | Taglist | Disclaimer | Inbox Rules
Quinn gritted his teeth, a hybrid of a groan and a growl rumbling out of his throat. His eye momentarily rolled up before fluttering close then open to meet your gaze. His body tensed at the sharp pain that followed the unforgiving slice of your knife across his skin below his left collarbone. He didn’t need to confirm that the cut was deeper than your first cuts which were mere scratches that you’d press to make him bleed. No. This one immediately dripped, his warm blood trickling out of the cut.
It hurt.
It hurt so fucking good.
His cock twitched, dripping with pre-cum underneath his stained boxers. The pain was sharp, yet it melted into an intoxicating blend of pleasure. His body was burning as if he would spontaneously combust. He was fucking addicted to this amount of pain, to this amount of pleasure, to this amount of insanity.
He yearned for more. A deeper slice. A heavier drip of his blood. A high higher than he had ever fucking felt. It didn't matter if he might need stitches. It didn't matter if it would leave a scar. It didn’t matter if there was an odd chance that he would somehow bleedout from this laceration. It didn't fucking matter because he was craving more. He needed more. And more you gave.
The cold metal nicked him almost in the same place, causing him to gasp, to tug against the metal cuffs that secured his wrists to the headboard, to sob out a plea that you answered with a devilish grin. He helplessly rutted his hips upwards, meeting your lazy grinds, wishing desperately that he could feel your bare pussy around his cock instead of the friction of his pre-cum soaked boxers. This wasn't fucking fair.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
He wanted to kiss you. He wanted to touch you. He wanted to carve up your perfect body the exact way you did with his as if it would make your bodies reflections of your shared darkness. He wanted you to bleed onto his bloody skin, your bloods mixing on each other's skin. He wanted to coat his cock with that mixture then he would sink into your quivering heat, painting your walls with the fluid that keeps you both alive and his cum. He wanted it all.
Quinn gritted his teeth, his whole being rattling, as you carved into his skin, swirling and pushing the sharp edge into his flesh. His blood dripped and dripped. Down his chest, down over his sensitive nipple that was still aching from your intense sucks and bites, down to his tensing abdomen, down to his waistband.
Off. He wanted his boxers off. They were in the way. His blood would've reached his cock. You would've been grinding along his length, smearing his blood on your pussy. Fuck his life.
"My Love," he panted, sounding like a whine. His watercolored eyes blurred yet zoned into your amusement. He groaned when your fingers traced over your masterpieces, sending shivers of pain to wreck his body. "F-fuck."
His eyes stung with involuntary tears. His cock painfully twitched once more, bagging to be fucked more than the torture of dryhumping. His mind that was turning with plans he was meticulously weaving turned blank and fogged over.
Fucking plans. His plan went to off the rails. He was supposed to be in charge tonight. He was supposed to strip you naked and secure you to the bedframe with the usual fleece-lined leather cuffs. He was supposed to eat you out until your pussy was swollen and ready for the smooth handle of the knife that he specifically had forged to its exact measurement and shape that would be perfect to fuck you with. He was supposed to bite into your flesh until he left you with bitemarks and bruises on your skin.That was the plan.
It didn't happen because you coaxed him into his position, kissing him so softly then roughly then back, effectively consuming his senses while you gripped his hands to your neck. The next thing he knew was you pushing his hands back and the sound of metal cuffs locking. Then you cut off his shirt, tugged off his pants, snatched the knife that he was hiding. You halted his protests by mounting him, grinding on him. You peppered him with kisses everywhere. Soft and innocent. Greedy and filthy. Then you started using his knife on him, effectively overturning his plans with yours.
Quinn had no complaints—other than to get rid of the boxers, fuck you, and fill you with so much cum that you'd complain about it during clean up—because he fucking loved it when you take what you wanted with him. He loved to be used by you. He loved to hurt for you. He'd do anything.
Literally anything.
Even if anything meant dying of blood loss when you eventually cut him too much. He wouldn't mind. His life was yours.
"My Love," he called again, trying to sit up from the headboard. ignoring the soreness on his wrists. "Please."
"Hmm." You hummed. Your hips stopped, lifting from his cock, robbing him of his pleasure. You shook your head, your other hand flattening on his left chest, pushing him back. When he stopped moving, you brought the bloodied knife to your lips, kissing its face, leaving his blood on your lips as you put it down against his skin again.
You were ethereal like his very own Goddess of both Life and Death. You excude confidence as you dragged the knife over his skin, leaving a streak of red down his sternum. While on top of him, you looked up at him through your lashes, the spark of darkness and mischief turning into a feign innocence. You blinked, smiling so sweetly that Quinn swore he could taste its saccharine lie.
"Please what, Quinny? Do you want me to stop?"
"Never," the word slipped out in a hurry. His tone was tight and laced with panic. His heart twisted, tumbling with his spiral. "Please don't stop. Give me more. You can keep me like this. Cut me up. Make me bleed. Mark me up. Just let me fuck your pussy. I need to be inside you. I. Need. You."
You discarded the knife on the bed, not caring a single bit about the mess. Your hands hooked over his nape, pulling him for a searing kiss, lips parted for his tongue, but Quinn dared to lick across your lips first, taking his essense on your lips, feeling the ghost of your smile.
He groaned, the copper taste entwining with your taste. He felt your nails sink into his nape, heat stabbing through his cock. His breaths came short and shaky as he met the fervor of your kiss while he held off his orgasm. He hoped to anything fucking holy that he could still tamped it down.
"I need you too," you replied, dragging your nails from his nape to his chest, to his waistband, prying off his boxers to free his raging problem. "Oh, Quinn, you poor thing."
You giggled, your hand wrapping around his cock, your thumb pressing on his slit, making his eyes roll upwards. You were going to kill him. Figuratively. No. Literally—
"Fuck," he stuttered, writhing underneath you as you swiftly took all of him inside your wet pussy. The feel of your warmth hugging him got him choking on his spit. His body tensed as he came. "No, no—fuck no," he whined, shaking his head, his hips rolling to ride his own orgasm. "I'm sorry. I'm fucking sorry. I tried—"
"Yes, yes. Fuck yes," you moaned, lifting up his throbbing length only to slid back down. You leaned down, your tongue lapping over his wounds, pushing him further and further as his peak dragged, spilling more cum inside you. "Fuck. Yes. Quinny."
Curses danced from his lips when he finally stopped coming and you continued to fuck him even as his cock softened, working his overly sensitized member so deliberately until he painfully hardened once more. Black spots darkened his vision as he met your thrusts. His ears rang as he heard a click of the cuffs unlocking. His mouth felt dry as he immediately gripped your hips in a bruising hold.
Quinn pushed through the pain. From oversensitivity. From his sore and probably blistered wrists. From the cuts that you continued to lick and prodded with your thumb. From his balls tightening with another load of cum ready. From the freedom that he must pretend that he didn't have yet.
He acted pliant, receiving everything you gave. He reciprocated every thrust and grind, every kiss and sighs, every moan and groan. He called out your name with tears strreaming down his face. He listened to how your body reacted, feeling the same fluttering of your walls until you came. He smiled in awe at the sight of your back arching, your neck looking so pretty and unmarked, yoour lips parted in your silent scream.
You were so pretty when you came, so beautiful when your pussy clamped down on his cock, so incredible when you panted and finally met his eyes, so cute when you squealed after he flipped your positions.
Quinn grasped the knife, perfectly gripping it and holding it to your neck, right against your thundering pulse, its blade nicking your skin, drawing the smallest amount of blood compared to his blood dripping from his skin.
Your eyes widened while your pussy clenched. "Quinn—"
He thrust into you, reaching your deepest depths, smirking when your eyes rolled up and your hands slamming onto his chest. He grinded his hips, torturing your sensitive spot with his cock and your clit with his pelvis.
"I'm gonna breed you while I cut you, my Love." He grinned, pressing the knife harder on your neck, chasing after you when you tried to move away. He knew you weren't afraid. He could see your trust and your desire. Then he slid the blade down as he slowed down his thrusts, still driving into you deeply. He traced over your collarbone. "Scream for me."
You did when he cut through your skin exactly where your first deep cut on him.
You were so loud when he fucked you through the pain that you came for him.
You were so singing your screams so beautifully that he couldn't help but grab your throat and kissed you while you rolled into another peak over and over again.
Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated. 💜
-> more thoughts? Dark List
-> Want to be notified? Join my taglist!
-> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜
-> Want to leave a tip? You can through my Writing Jar (ko-fi)! 💜
Imagine just sleeping soundly then waking up to your pussy being pounded by the dark Hugheses— (super dark. somno. free use. cnc. oral. dvp hints.) (dropping this then logging back out. 🫡)
You would just woke up to the harsh roll of your pleasure peaking into an incredible high that your body tensed and bowed as your pussy clamped around a cock that pounded right at that spot that had you screaming a helpless plea. You could barely see their eyes looking down at you because your brain was still trapped in your dreams while you could feel the ache, the soreness, the pain of the unrelentless fucking that led you over another cliff when you haven't came down from your earlier high.
"Fuck," you cried out, trying to get away, failing as a bruising grip held your hips, as a rough hand wrapped around your throat, as a cock slapped your lips before invading your throat. "Hngg—"
You would be choking around the cock, tasting the salty pre-cum dribbling on your tonge then your throat, feeling yourself get used like you were nothing but a toy. You might as well be.
When you tried to push, hands would grip your already bruised wrists. When your mind tried to keep up, your clit was assaulted with a wand vibrating until you were seeing white from the intense pleasure doubling, tripling, quadrupling—
"Stop. Please," you pleaded when the thick and twitching cock slipped out of your lips, a trail of saliva connecting your swollen lips to its leaking tip. You stared up and saw an amused gaze looking down at you before your eyes rolled at the feel of the cock brushing against the deepest parts of you. "Fuck yes."
"Such a fucking whore," someone said as you came so hard that you were drenching the one who was fucking you. "Move."
The next thing you knew besides the pressure of your orgasm threatening to burn your entire existence was the cock being replaced by a greedy tongue, lapping and the juices you squirted, gulping at the cream that dripped down your ass, spitting into your pussy to make you filthier.
At one point, you'd be passing out.
You would be too lost in your pleasure that your consciousness was fading in and out. You would be too fucked as two cocks slapped at your face, taking turns into dipping into your slutty mouth, making you choke and sputter as your legs shook from another orgasm. Again. Again. And again.
At one point, you'd be woken up by another wave of an intense orgasm followed by cum painting overfucked pussy.
At one point, you were flipped to your knees two cocks stretched your cunt and another fucking into your throat.
At one point, you would be filled by so much cum that you doubt your birth control was enough.
Request details: omg what about dark!quinn with a corruption kink!! like a sweet, goody two shoes girl-next-door who doesn’t even swear turning into a filthy slut for him 🥹 (by @xotabby )
Hello, lovely!! Yes. Gosh this is such a great idea. I love it but I strayed from the plot... but here it is...[I am still on hiatus 🫠]
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Dark, Crazy behavior and thoughts (kinda psycho?), Non-con -> Dub Con (kissing, only at the beginning), Corruption Kink (idk if it still applied, sorry 😔), Rough Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Overstimulation, Spanking, Degradation Kink, CNC (Consensual non-consent), Unprotected Sex, Masturbation. (Daaaaaark)
Dark Masterlist | Taglist | Disclaimer | Inbox Rules
The first time Quinn met you, he didn't understand that someone could still be innocent. He wasn't sure why you would wear those pretty dresses and blouse combined with your dainty shoes, why you would knock on his door and share some of your cookies with him, why you scolded him just because he took the wrong trash instead of the recyclables, why you look so cute when you huffed at him with your hands on your hips.
You were so different from him.
You were simply too sweet for your own good. You smiled at him with your eyes turning into soft crescents. You talked to him so softly that you could lull him to sleep. You existed around him in your pretty, flowy dresses and dainty accessories. You were so kind that he thought you were putting up a front, but when he showed up, all with a growing bruise on his cheek, you fussed over him with tears streaming down your face.
"Quinn, please stop joining the scrums," you pleaded at him as if he frequented the fights.
Quinn didn't fight. All he did was pull away people. All he did was get smashed with sticks to his fucking face. All he did was wipe the blood and prayed for his teeth to remain intact. He didn't do much, but you showed him extreme worry. Your reaction, your tears, your desperation, your bribe of cookies. Why would you even react like that?
Fuck, you were so fucking pure.
You couldn't even curse when he used expletives around you. You blushed when there was kissing on your romance shows. You cowered when there were sex scenes. You were so devastatingly pure that it physically hurt to hold back.
It was like his body was gearing up for a fight. His muscles were tensing like he was about to have a cramp. His bones felt heavy, weighing him down until he sank to the bottom of his desires. His skin was so tight he was breaking in sweat and goosebumps. His spine was suffering from the jolts of electric shivers that shook down his very being.
The only thing he could fix this problem was to bend you over his fucking knee and spank your ass until it was red and bruised, until your pure act finally flipped a hundred and eighty, until you were begging and crying for him to stop, until he turned you into the whore that he knew you were, until your words turned as dirty as his.
It was arduous. It was bending. It was enthralling.
It was...vexing.
Because he knew you were real. You didn't know how to pretend, stumbling on your words if you tried to lie, chewing at your lip until it was red and swollen because guilt ate you from inside out. You get spooked by your own reflection and even your shadow. Your existence hurt him, consuming him until there was nothing else that he could offer.
Quinn didn't want to be consumed. Why should he be the one consumed? He could swallow you whole.
Dark swallowing light. Dark destroying light.
That was right.
He was dark. You were light. His light to preserve, to protect, to break.
So he did. When you came to bring him your freshly baked cookies, he grabbed you by your shirt, dragging you in, pushing you against his door. He kissed you roughly that you were gasping against his lips, your cartoon of sweets falling on the floor. When you pushed him off, he pulled you closer, nipping at your lips until you finally opened up for him, your tongues flicking and tasting, your breaths catching, your heads spinning.
"I like you," he confessed, "So much. Can you feel what you do to me?"
He gripped your thigh, pulling it up, grinding against your core as your dress slid upwards.
"Quinn, slow down," you gasped, but he didn't listen, fucking you through each other's clothes. "I--Ohmygosh."
Quinn trailed his kisses to your jaw, his tongue darting to lick your skin, his teeth nipping, his lips sucking and sucking until he was leaving marks. He pressed closer as you pushed. He bit harder as you sobbed that it hurt. He slipped your panties to the side so you could soak his pants directly.
"We can't do this. This is too quick." You whimpered, weakly pushing, craning your neck so he could mark you up more. "We didn't date yet—"
There was it was. The goody-fucking-two-shoes who wanted dates as if every hangout you both did was fucking nothing. As if the cookies you brought were nothing but just blessings for your friendship. As if all the tears you shed for him were merely fucking platonic.
So, Quinn ignored you, his hand grabbing your wrists, crossing them above your head. His other found your neckline, forcefully tugging until the fabric tore painfully on your skin. he drank in your ragged breaths, your tits moving, your nipples pebbling and begging to be sucked. He sucked them, playing with them with his tongue and his fingers, listening to your soft mewls.
"Please stop," you sniffled when he parted from you, a trail of saliva connecting his tongue and your nipple.
"Do you really want me to stop?" He asked, letting you of your hands, glancing at the bruises forming on your wrists. "If we stop, you stop going here."
Then he stepped back, his head tilting, his pants fucking wet with your arousal. He drank in your messed up state. Your dress was a mess. Your neck was peppered with his marks. Your skirt fell to hide your pussy. Your cheeks were all flushed. Your eyes were so big and glassy. You stared at him as your hands scrambled to hide yourself, pushing yourself against his door, ready to fucking bolt. Too scared as you should've been from the beginning.
It annoyed him, because this wasn't his plan. He planned to confess and kiss and let you go to decide for yourself, but that didn't happen. You made him stray from his plan. Like always. You always chaos in his mind. You weren't supposed to. You shouldn't have been able to because you were pure. You were good. Why was it your light infected him instead of the other way around?
"You want a different version of me," he spat. He stripped his shirt off his back, throwing it on your lap, watching you grip it to your chest. "Leave. You can't handle me, my Love."
He turned his back on you. His chest cleaved into pieces when he heard the doorknob turning. This was it. You'd leave him, taking your perfectness that he could only wish to destroy with his imperfections.
But you wouldn't want that, would you?
Quinn tensed when arms folded around his waist, pulling so tightly, your warm breaths fanning on his cold skin.
"You called me 'my Love'?" You asked with your flawlessly gentle voice. Your hands flattened on his stomach. You moved around him, staring up at him with those kind eyes, not holding your dress to your chest. So fucking bare for him to see. "Is...is that a lie?"
Why would it be a lie? It was what you were. His Love. His destructive Love.
"Did it sound like a lie?" He pushed back, his hands twitching at his sides. When you shook your head, his cock twitched. When your eyes fell to the wet mess on his crotch, his heart healed itself. "If you don't leave, I'll ruin you."
Your eyes flashed, a little flinch jolting your body.
"If you don't leave, you'd be mine even if you changed your mind."
"Are you going to hurt me?" Your chest moved with your deep breaths. You finally grasped your dress again, holding it close.
"And so much more, my Love."
"I want a date first," you bargained instead of running out and slamming your door shut, instead of moving to somewhere he couldn't reach, instead of crying out for help. "Two dates."
Quinn didn't get why you were bargaining with him. His eyebrow twitched, rising just a fraction. He followed you as you walked around him, as you picked up his shirt, as you put it on, as you stared at him like the precious angel you were.
"Two dates, Quinny."
Then you left, leaving him to analyze what the fuck just happened.
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
Quinn gave your two dates. He took you to a picnic in a park. He gave you flowers, made you sandwiches and beverage you lied, watched you go all shy on him when he tucked a morning glory on your ear. He took you to dinner in another time. He ordered what you liked, grinned when you showed him that you packed two cookies for dessert, laughed when you giggled.
Then he found himself in your apartment. While his almost held no warmth besides the family pictures he had, yours were brimming with life. Throw pillows were everywhere. Posters and pictures littered the wall. Houseplants were thriving in their corners. A mesh of colors highlighted your neatness. Put together. Clean. Proper. Perfect.
You gripped his hand, inviting him further inside.
"I like you too, Quinn," you confessed, coming up to your toes, grasping his shoulders, pulling him for a gentle kiss.
Ahh. Still so sweet.
Not enough.
Quinn grabbed your waist and your ass, deepening the kiss almost instantaneously. He needed more and by the way you struggled to match his pace; he knew you were trying your best for him. He lapped at your lips, tasting your tiny puffs. He continued to grope your ass over the dress he wanted to tear.
"Not this dress, Quinny," you sobbed, pleading so prettily, but he wasn't listening, ripping the light fabric. "No. You are so mean."
"Yet you want me," he taunted, pushing you back and back and back until your back hit your bedroom door. He gripped your tattered dress, pulling them off your body, leaving you to your white and lacy lingerie. "You look so innocent when you are a slut, aren't you?" He smirked when you flushed and shook your head. "No? You want me to stop?"
"No," you cried.
"But you're so scared." Quinn opened your door, chasing after the steps you took. "You don't want to be my slut, huh?" He nudged you as soon as your legs hit the bed. "You're too good to be my slut. Is that it?"
Quinn didn't listen to your tiny whines, didn't pay any attention to your teary eyes when he kept emphasizing you were his slut, didn't care when you shut your thighs as he pried them open, gazing down at the wetness on the lace, giving you a slap right there.
"Ow," you sniffled, your hips pulling away as he cupped your pussy, shuddering when he did it again. Your eyes rolled up, your back arching, your lips parting in a silent moan. "Quinn, please—"
"We haven't started yet, my Love." He slid his thumb down your slit, pressing onto the lace to tease your quivering entrance. "You're going to take everything I give you or else..." He laughed at the fear in your eyes. "I'll leave."
The reason why he didn't lead you to his place was to dangle the threat of leaving you. He knew how much you feared that. He saw you crumble when he left to get you water because you were parched, when he ignored your messages for more than an hour, when he told you to leave.
He wanted to break you then build you back up until all you knew was him.
"I can take it," you announced, gulping when he leaned until your lips were brushing. "I can."
"Maybe."
Quinn kissed your again, his hand sliding underneath you to unclasp your bra, his other slipped into your panties so he could tease you. He could feel your desperation with every roll of your hips, with every little whine spilling from your lips, with every sobbing breath when he gripped you too tightly.
He kissed his way down your body, giving your tits the attention they deserved, suckling on them, imagining how incredible it would when they filled with milk. He licked at your skin, tasting the slight sheen of sweat, savoring your softness between his teeth. He made his way down, down, and down, flattening his hands underneath your thighs, pulling them up and apart. He nipped at your inner thighs, chuckling when they trembled.
Then he lapped at your pussy through your panties, earning him something he couldn't believe he would ever hear.
"Fuck," you sighed, your hands grabbing at his hair.
You cursed.
What a filthy girl.
Quinn stretched your panties to the side, so he could eat you out without anything in between. He licked and kissed and slurped. His nose grazed your clit, greedily inhaling your heady scent, groaning when you spilled and spilled on his tongue. So wet. So fucking delicious.
He didn't stop what he was doing, taking his sweet time, waiting and waiting until your pussy finally fluttered around his tongue, coming for him, being so good to him. It was only right to reward you for that, so he didn't stop even when your orgasm died down. He kept fucking you with his tongue, kept tasting you until his taste buds memorized you, kept on going until you came again, and again, and again.
"Quinn, too much," you gasped, trying to run away, but he was already there to drag you back to his mouth, his touch bruising your thighs, wounding your flesh with his blunt nails, owning you so fucking intensely you were fully sobbing. "Stop. I can't. Too much, Quinn. I don't wanna come again. Please. It hurts—"
"You'll give me more." He crawled over you, ridding himself of his clothes. His body burned as though a real fire was ignited in his chest. He pulled you close, laying his cock on your pelvis, showing exactly how deep he would reach. "You're so fucking tiny." He spat on his cock, before sliding himself on your wet slit, coating himself with your arousal and smearing his spit on both of you. "Beg for me."
You inhaled sharply, your tears sliding from the corners of your eyes to your hair fanning underneath you. Your tiredness was so apparent. Your need to cover up your pussy and hide it from him was so clear that he pressed his tip against your entrance, reminding you that he wouldn't fucking stop.
"Please?" You asked, unaware how to beg properly.
You were so delightfully unbelievable.
"Tell me you want my cock in your slutty pussy." He leaned on his forearms, his wet nose grazing yours. He drank in your hesitation. "Tell me."
"Quinn," you stuttered, your hand pressing on your chest. You gulped. "I...need..." You struggled as your pussy leaked on his cock. "I need your cock."
"Hmmm?" He held back his laugh, his amusement, his fucking happiness. "Where, my Love?"
"In my pussy," you sobbed as he slapped your clit with his cock. "In my s-slutty pussy."
Oh, you were such a good girl. The best.
So, Quinn would thrust his hard length in you in one go, not going slow, not letting adjust. He fucked into you, listening to you tiny gasps, embracing the pain of your nails digging into his back. He would kiss you so harshly that your teeth would clash, that your tongue would ache from his teeth nipping at it, that the taste of copper filled both of your senses.
He wouldn't stop his hard and deep thrusts even as you screamed your peak. One after another. Destroying your senses to the point that you couldn't beg him to stop. He would feel your pussy flutter and spasm around him again and again until you couldn't fucking stop.
"You're doing so good for me, my Love," he would praise, peppering you with kisses. His sweat dripped from his skin to yours. His blood rushed down his cock, his need coiling from within. "Keep your eyes on me. Give me one more."
An impossible ask when your pussy gripped him so tight he almost couldn't move, when your eyes were so fogged over, when you shook your head, as you plead, "Pleasepleaseplease."
As you stiffened into another orgasm, he came with you, his hips bucking harshly to fuck his come deeper and fucking deeper. His groans and moans sounded too low that they were guttural. When he felt your hold on him loosening, seeing you all pass out, he couldn't stop his laugh. A sense of victorious calm enveloped him as he gazed down at your tear-stained face.
"You're mine, my Love."
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
Quinn knew he ruined you when he came home from a road trip to you fucking yourself on his pillow, sobbing his name, calling out how much you needed him. He leaned on the doorway, taking in the mess of your clothes on the floor, the plethora of his shirts on the bed, the desperation of your movements as you chased after something you could no longer reach without him.
You broke. Your light was still shining but it was stained by his darkness. You sobbed, your hips rolling how he taught you to, your hands groping at your hips and your tits then wrapping around your neck. So utterly destroyed.
As you should be.
Now, both of you were jagged pieces of a whole.
Quinn stalked forward, silently despite knowing you wouldn't hear him at all. When your hands dropped to your tits again, his hand snapped around your throat. He grinned at your surprise, at your glazed over eyes, at the way you didn't stop fucking into his drenched pillow.
"I can't come," you complained. "Please help me come, Quinny."
He did. He slipped his other hand to your pussy, his fingers dipping into your swollen walls, his palm grinding against your clit. He tightened his hold around your throat, watching your eyes flutter and your lips twitching into a smile.
"Come, my Love," he ordered, feeling you crash over your peak immediately.
Like a perfectly trained whore.
His slutty and pure Love.
Don't ask...yeah...I missed the plot.. i sob. Sorry, corruption kink gods 😔 Good night!!!
Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated. 💜
-> more thoughts? Dark List
-> Want to be notified? Join my taglist!
-> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜
-> Want to leave a tip? You can through my Writing Jar (ko-fi)! 💜
omg what about dark!quinn with a corruption kink!! like a sweet, goody two shoes girl-next-door who doesn’t even swear turning into a filthy slut for him 🥹
Lovely!! Girly next door trope. I will DIE. I love it. Here it is!! Idk if it is still corruption but oh well...
Hello, lovelies. I will be going on a short (hopefully) period of hiatus due to personal things happening in my life rn. You might see me posting here and there—small crumbs and blurbs—but not as frequent as I have. Thank you for being here. Hope to talk you all soon 💙
Relationship: dark!Quinn, dark!Jack, dark!Luke x F!Reader : dark!Quinn x F!Reader
Side Story for Their Sweet Girl
This happened before Part 1 aka before they claimed you, but after the boys learned that they all liked you. Some scenes are before, during, and after First Time and Playing Games.
Hello, lovelies!! Another side story/blurb that got too long. This is best to be read after First Time and Playing Games, but you can do what you want! Some scenes are highly referenced/entwined. No proofread!! Please read the warnings!!
Count: ~9.2k words
Different Dark and Unhinged Personality: Dom!Quinn
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Dark, Extremely Deranged and Manipulative behavior, Voyeurism (video and audio devices, and on scene / watching another touch and take advantage of you), Breaking in, Somnophilia (non-con -> dub-con), Violence (not between brothers and not on reader), Virginity (Reader was a virgin; slight inaccuracies), Finger...fucking, Implied connections to criminal activities (bribery, hiring men, deaths), Scenes from First Time and Playing games (Implied rough sex and mentions of fucked up actions: inappropriate touchings, somno, dry humping), Alcohol Consumption.
Dark Masterlist | Their Sweet Girl AU | Taglist | Disclaimer | Inbox Rules
Quinn had always taken it upon himself to take care of the important people in his life. It wasn't because he was raised like this, but because he had understood and known that the world would never be kind.
Not to Luke, who loved to play pretend with that sweet boy mask that had been present since he first step foot in elementary, using the innocent gaze that diverted any scolding that he should've received. Especially not when he had been so focused on playing with your innocence, taking advantage of your sweet adoration, while he was closing in on himself, untrusting anyone of to unmask, so ignorant that he didn't know his oldest brother had always been aware.
Not to Jack, who was so volatile and unhinged that he was wreaking havoc wherever he went, from violence to mischief, doing whatever it was that could give him the slightest hint of euphoria. Especially not when he started riling you up, appearing to tease you but not to the point of bullying you, but the insanity in his eyes always betrayed him, barely trying to reign himself in from wanting to corrupt every bit of your soul, always begging to be let out like a wild animal forced in his cage, so wild that he didn't know Quinn had never locked the cage.
Not to you, who were the purest soul he had ever laid eyes upon, perfectly able to go out and run free but always needed to crawl back in the safe walls of your home. Especially not when you were so bright that your existence drew in the worse and vile existence that was apart from Quinn and his brothers, so pure and kind that you didn't know how much Quinn was fighting back the ones that wanted to hurt you.
Quinn would do anything for his brothers and you even at the expense of himself. He barely slept a full eight hours of recommended sleep, on and off season. He would always be calling people—initially beyond his connection until he made it—to cover and straighten things up. Things that must've slipped from Luke's intricate and secretive plans. Things that Jack definitely didn't give a shit about. Things that lurked around you that were begging to be deleted from its existence.
His brothers were a handful. Jack was the one that needed more attention, but it would be remedied by telling him what to do. A simple instruction would always be like a lit path that kept him in the present instead of being trapped in the noise in his head. Luke might need less attention, but it didn't mean he was independent. Sure, he slipped once or twice, but most of the time he didn't. However, he needed the support, the stir to the right mindset that he was never doing anything wrong, that it was okay to do whatever he wanted to do.
Quinn had embraced their versions of darkness with his much darker hue.
If they were fucked up, he was more than that. He was the one with connections to hired arms, not just measly hackers that Luke knew about and hired to make that app in your phone but actual criminals that could bury a person's death and make it into a missing case. He was the one moving their money, not just simple bribes that Jack loved to hand out, but towards organizations to actively secure protection and liberties. Most of all, he was the one controlling Luke and Jack by fanning their darkened flames, fueling their obsessions towards you until they matched his.
It was exhausting to keep up with this insanity, but it needed to happen. They needed to keep up. They needed to understand that you were the most important thing and their lives. They needed to look at you like you were the only thing giving light in their lives. They needed to feel like they were breaking day by day as long as they didn't have you. They needed to feel how Quinn felt from the very beginning.
He fell so fucking hard and harder every fucking day that past. His mind was reeling at the memory of you—your smiles, your giggles, your pouts, your tears, your sobs. There was never a time that Quinn didn't visualize you even during the games.
You made him feel calm yet restless. Focused yet distracted. Whole yet incomplete.
You consumed him.
Heart, body, and soul.
There was not a piece of him that wasn't stolen away, but he had no complaints. You could have everything and everything else. You owned him. Ever since the day you greeted him with your eyes crinkling at the sides. Ever since you giggled at Jack's teasing. Ever since you called Luke, your Lukey. You were so perfect and so sweet that you ensnared all three of them at once. Different paces of falling and realizations, but all the same.
You gave him another reason beyond hockey and his brothers. You gave him someone to lean on when he got exhausted from all the pressure and things that he must do. You allowed him a light in his shadowed view of reality. Thus, you would be his.
Scratch that. You were already his.
And so, he found himself in your house. He sat back on your couch, watching you make your cookies perfectly rounded with a circular cookie cutter, breathing in its delightful smell spreading across the room, memorizing the tune you were silently humming along with your smile. He loved that the apron you were using was the one he had gifted you days ago. He loved the braid styled your hair in. He loved you making him cookies—the doughs had already been prepped and stored in your freezer—just because he told you that he missed eating one.
"Quinn, do you like milk?" You asked, plating up the cookies. Honestly, you could've served it in the baking tray and he would be satisfied, but you were always the sweetest. You reminded him, "Cookies are best with milk."
Quinn preferred coffee, but milk it was. He nodded, his fist gripped the armrest, forcing himself from jumping in to help you carry the plate of cookies and that impossibly filled-to-the-rim glass of milk, only relaxing when you placed it on the low-center table and when you plopped next to him.
"They look different." He looked at the cookies that were slightly different from your usual. Marking the excitement in your eyes, he took one, taking a bite of the sweet treat that he normally wouldn't eat. He could taste the vanilla, the caramel tone, the bitter yet sweetness of the dark and milk chocolate mixing, and the salt on top. "It tastes so fucking amazing," he muttered, eyeing you up and down, wishing he was tasting a different cookie, "What did you do differently?"
Oh, how he had started your rambles about cookies. You were so happy to be asked about it like no one had already. You explained about browning the butter, changing up the ratio of sugars and flour, and getting a better chocolate. You were on fire with the details, even showing him your notes in your tiny notebook, drawing his attention to how small your hands were. You were so excessively cute. So fucking edible.
"Leaving it in the freezer also developed the flavors! I tested it," you exclaimed, your eyes wide and alive. "Do you really like it?"
"Yes," he affirmed.
"Okay," you chimed. "Do you...want to eat a different pastry? I am kind of planning to make apple pie soon."
"I'll grab a slice when you make one." Quinn placed his hand on the couch, his pinky touching yours. He smirked. "Whenever that'll be."
You laughed at his teasing. "Hey, I've already done my recipe research!"
Quinn was aware of your tendency to test our different recipes and methods until you found the best one that worked for you. Trying out a dish or a pastry always took time, and he had time.
Always.
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
Quinn meticulously placed a camera on top of your bookshelf after he brushed away the dust collecting on it. He carefully adjusted its angling it towards your reading nook, rechecking with the app on his phone, taping it down along with the wires. That should do it for your library, the space feeling more perfect with a device that would let Quinn watch you whenever you were reading.
He was climbing down the ladder when Jack popped in with a strip of tape sticking to his cheek. Why was it there and why on the cheek? Quinn didn't fucking know.
"We're really not going to tell Lukey?" Jack asked, frowning and crossing his arms. "This should be faster if he's here."
"Are you done with your task?" Quinn moved the ladder back to where it was, grabbing at the pan to dump into the garbage. When his brother grunted, he continued, "Luke doesn't need to know about this."
"Because he'd protest about it?" Jack followed Quinn out of your library, barely commenting when his work was being checked. "He'll be angry about being left out. He got that participation-seeking gene."
"That you also have?" Quinn smirked as Jack recoiled in offense. "Come on now."
"Hey! I helped you," the younger one grumbled, looking more like a child as he fucking pout. He was more childish than crazy today which was perfect for errands. If not, he would've been distracted before he could set up a camera. He huffed, "You would've taken another day if it weren't for me."
"I know, so thank you, Jack."
Jack's jaw dropped to the floor, his eyes growing with that weird adoration, his cheeks flushing. He nodded gingerly, eating up the simple words of gratitude. It was one of his quirks. He thought Quinn could do anything. And Luke picked that up.
Fuck, Quinn wished he could.
"So, what's the plan now?" Jack asked, not bothering when Quinn snatched his phone from his pocket. He leaned over, watching what was being done to his device. "Really? I can use it too?"
"I don't see why not." Quinn handed him the device. "Now, do your drills."
From excitement to annoyance, Jack sighed and protested under his breath about being worked to the bones, yet he still waved Quinn a goodbye and leftwith a simple huff in his breath, complaining to Quinn and appeasing himself in his whispers. He would be fine.
Now, it was time to set up other stuff.
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
After days of the cameras rolling, Quinn could do his coping mechanism in the comfort—or discomfort—of his home. He watched you throw your head backwards, your back arching, your fingers knuckle deep inside your pretty pussy. The sounds that you let out—small sighs, tiny whimpers, muttering curses—were blasting in his earphones. His balls ached as he gave his cock another harsh tug, using his cum as lube, feeling himself tether in the thin line of overstimulation and fucking dreamland.
"Fuck," you cried out, your thighs shaking, coming with your fingers slipping out of you.
You should've ridden your orgasm, but you didn't. Maybe you didn't know how to. Maybe you needed help. Oh, definitely, you did. You rolled to the side, panting while you fixed your panties back in place.
Quinn changed the footage so he could see your face, his hand stopping around his cock, ignoring the ache settling all over his cock. He was still getting used to which camera was which, but he was getting better by the second. It wouldn't be long until he memorized them.
You were already dozing but you reached underneath your stuff toys, procuring a framed picture, staring at it with such longing that Quinn's chest constricted.
He knew what it was. It was a picture of all four of you that his mom took when you first visited their house. You were sitting in the middle of the couch with Luke and Jack beside you, while Quinn settled behind, leaning down with his weight on his hands. It was an important photo, proof that you were welcomed in the Hughes family. You just didn't know how deep their welcome was.
He knew you keep it hidden and close, but he didn't know that you gazed at it almost every single night if not for the cameras.
"What are you thinking about, Sweet Girl?" Quinn asked, fingertips tracing your image while his cum-slicked hand darting over his chest. "You already have us. Just tell me what it is."
Quinn never begged for anything, but he would for you. He just needed one word. Just a hint. He could decipher what it could mean. However, he didn't receive any answers beyond the smallest kiss you had given each of them and the sight of you hugging it close to your chest until you fell asleep.
"Next time then, my Love," Quinn sighed, cleaning up his mess with wipes. He gritted, his molars grinding, "Next time." A knock pushed him out of his mind. "Give me a sec."
Quinn changed out of his briefs and pants, sprayed a sprit of Lysol in the air, shut down his computer. He stepped out of the cramped room hidden in his walk-in closet. He brushed his hair back on his way to his door, opening it to see Jack.
His younger brother was adjusting his cap, his hands visibly shaking, his pupils blowing out. Next to him was Luke who was eyeing Jack with annoyance and worry.
"I need...I need to do something." Jack's tone had a dangerous edge, his bloodlust curdling the air. "I need to go out. We should go to a bar. Let's have some fun."
Jack was craving violence. It was obvious when he did. He would be dragging both Luke and Quinn somewhere, using them both like lures to any unsuspecting assholes who would dare mess with them, so he got an excuse to fight.
While Quinn wanted to spend his unusually free night, Quinn needed to make sure his brothers were safe, so he agreed.
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
Quinn flinched when your hand landed on his sore shoulder. He immediately regretted his reaction because you looked so hurt and distraught, almost stepping away if he didn't grab your hand and kept it right there. He stared up at you, silently begging for you to stay, letting out a breath when you sat next to him, your feet dangling over the dock like his.
Your hand softly escaped his hold, running down the expanse of his back, your other hand joining in. You hugged him tightly, brushing your cheek against his arm, not caring if he was still damp from his earlier swim. When you moved to press a kiss on the developing bruise on his shoulder, your eyes shone with tears.
"What happened?" you asked. "Did you get into a fight too?"
Your words implied that you must've seen Jack first. While it normally didn't bother Quinn, sometimes he wished you came to him before his brothers. He also needed you.
"You could say that." Quinn looked straight ahead, towards the lake. He pretended that his skin wasn't burning from your kiss and that he wasn't feeling so much more than this. He watched as the sun's rays reflect on the waves. Its glare was getting warmer as the day approached noon. "We went out last night. I bumped on some college boys. They took it wrong and it just happened. It was mostly Jack who fought, and he almost got hit with a fucking chair."
Quinn gritted his teeth, still feeling the wood break on his shoulder. That wasn't supposed to happen. It should've just been a fistfight, but some idiot picked up a chair. It would've hit Jack's head. God only knew what would've happen if it did.
"We just fought back." It wasn't a lie. He and his brothers fought back even if the whole mess was initiated by Quinn so he could give Jack the excuse he needed. "It's us or them."
"I'm sorry," you apologized, your tears dripping on his skin, scalding his soul.
"Don't be. Not your fault," he whispered, glancing at you to see more tears sliding down your cheeks. He could feel you shaking. "We'll be okay."
"But your shoulder, Quinn," you hiccupped.
"It's just a bruise." It probably was. Quinn didn't hear a crack of his bones fracturing or a pop of his socket dislocating. "It will be gone soon." He smiled. "It gives me an excuse from shooting drills."
For a moment, you stared at him, weighing his words before you finally nodded. You hugged him tighter, just like that. You let him lean his head on yours, his hair dripping, his wet waves falling on his temple and the tops of your head. Then you started humming like you wanted to give him something that would soothe his soul.
It did.
His mind counted the seconds that turned into minutes. His heart skipped a beat when you shifted closer. His body became more relaxed, his exhaustion from the previous days finally catching up to him like a freight train. His eyelids felt heavier. His grip on the wood loosened.
"Quinn?" You called, sounding like a lullaby mixing with the sound of waves crashing against each other as a soft breeze blew past. "Take a nap, Quinny."
Quinn did, embracing the comfort you were offering.
From silence to pure fucking chaos, Quinn jolted awake to see his brothers roughhousing while you cheered from a single-seater, yelping when one of them overturned the odds alternately. He was on the couch in the lake house, obviously gotten carried—or dragged—from the dock. A fluffy blanket that could only be yours surrounded him like clouds plucked from the skies. He could smell takeouts before he saw the mess on the low table along with an untouched bowl of Chipotle near him.
He silently stretched, feeling the soreness on his shoulder, smiling when you caught him rousing.
"Quinn, Look! They're being so silly," you giggled, pointing at the two that fell to the floor, grappling at each other, trying to get a proper hold for a chance to choke the other. "They just started it and they won't stop. Oh my god, Lukey!"
Luke's hand slammed on Jack's bruised face, slamming his head down on the carpeted floor, pinning his older brother with a knee to his hips, successfully winning the scuffle.
Jack tried to fight back, but he was outclassed from Luke's weight alone, huffing when he couldn't find enough leverage to get out, refusing to surrender.
"Idiots," Quinn chuckled, taking another forkful of his lunch, his eyes capturing the time that told him that he had slept at least a couple of hours. He glanced at you, seeing your growing worry, catching your wince when Jack bit down on Luke's hand.
"Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with you—" Luke tried to retrieve his hand, losing his footing, falling into Jack's trap, getting pounced like a prey, "—You are insane, Jack."
"Come here," Quinn called you, patting the space next to him. He waited until you raced next to him, cowering from how his brothers playfight turned more physical. He assured, his hand wrapping around yours, "They'll be okay."
"O-okay," you gulped, blinking like a little bunny.
"You were just cheering," Quinn teased when you let out another yelp because Luke let out another curse, almost sounding like a whimper. He frowned at the redness of Luke's face because wind got knocked out of him. "That's enough."
Just like that, the two parted from each other, glaring while rubbing wherever they were sore. It was Luke that turned to you first, pouting and whining that he could barely breathe. The fucker caused you to jump to his aid, fuzzing over him, rubbing his back to get him to breathe when he was already breathing.
"You could land a job as an actor, Lukey," Jack spat, standing to his feet, popping his bruised knuckles, seething from the lack of your attention. That was when he bit down on his split lip, reopening the wound, blood coating his teeth and his chin. "Fuck, this fucking hurts!"
Then you went to Jack, not seeing that they were just playing and fighting to get your attention, while Quinn sat back to watch it like he was watching a movie.
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
Luke still didn't know about the cameras. If he had, he wouldn't do what he was doing right now. He wouldn't be so brave on serving you bottle after bottle, getting you drunker by the minute, riding whatever drunken thought you wanted to say. He wouldn't even dare, in essence, telling you that he liked someone. He wouldn't have been so careless not to see the sadness in your eyes as soon as he said it. He wouldn't have coaxed you to sleep only to groped you as he pleased.
His youngest brother was so brazen. His hands traced their way under your shirt, greedily touching you like an animal, so perverse, so opposite to his sweet image. An unmasked Luke was interesting to watch. Impatient. Depraved. Monstrous.
Just like Jack. Just like Quinn.
Quinn couldn't be more proud as Luke’s hand dipped to your pussy, touching you over your shorts, tracing and circling until you let out a pleasured sigh. He waited for his brother to do something more, reward you for being such a good girl for letting him touch you, but Luke stopped, proving how different he was.
Unlike Quinn who would've stripped you down to nothing so he could slide his cock along your slit until he made a mess on your pussy.
Unlike Jack who would've moved you so he could eat you out after he tore your panties into shreds.
Luke simply retreated, looking satisfied with a few touches and pets, taking you to your room so you wouldn't be sore tomorrow.
"You are so soft, Luke."
Quinn leaned his head on his fist, wondering when their youngest would break. It wouldn't be long. He could see Luke's hackles rising with his lingering gaze, the ropes that held him back snapping. Bit by bit. Fiber after fiber.
A cruel smile replaced his smirk.
Jack could break him.
Quinn didn't even have to lift a finger or tell Jack about it. It would happen one day or another.
His phone pinged with a message from an unknown number. When he opened it, the pictures of those college boys on their knees, their faces bloody, swollen, and bruised, bombarded his screen. Picture after picture, he swiped through them. Dirty. Mangled. Destroyed. Then a video was sent of them receiving a bullet to their heads. Serve them right.
They suffered enough to pay for every punch they threw at Jack and Luke, and they also met mercy because Quinn wasn't heartless. Death was mercy.
Quinn was about to send his remaining balance for that job, but he received a demand for game tickets instead, specific seats near the penalty box for at least seven games for a group of five. That was...interesting especially when it was still off season, but it was an easy ask. A bargain.
"Done," Quinn replied, shutting down his PC, heading straight down.
He found Jack sitting on a high stool near the counter. His torso was lying on top of the granite, his arms spread wide, his palms flattening on the marble.
"This feels like a great bed," Jack announced, moving his arms like he was doing snow angels. "Try it out, Q."
'Keep the counter clear', Quinn noted. He rested his hand on the cold surface. Then he moved to the thermostat, adjusting the temperature two degrees Celsius lower because he had an inkling his brother was overheating.
"Go to your room if you want to sleep, Jack."
"Idon'twanna." He turned away, continuing whatever the fuck he was doing. "I am comfy—" he giggled, using your cute vocabulary, "—here."
Comfortable. Sure.
Quinn took two bottles from the fridge. One he drank from. One he carefully balanced on Jack's head. He held his laughter because Jack just froze.
Was that still comfy?
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
Quinn held his breath as he took you in, his heart racing to the point of pain. He couldn't take his eyes off you as you spun for him, your skirts flowing around you, your sleeves coming to the tips of your fingers, your innocent smile looking incredibly beautiful. It didn't help that your reflection doubled the sight.
"I like this one," you chimed, sounding so giddy.
He gulped the lump in his throat, trying to settle his heart, muttering, "Me too."
Quinn struggled with fashion more than finding and maintaining illegal connections. He could barely dress himself, heavily relying on his rotation of suits and casual attire, taking inspiration from Jack’s or Luke’s fit only to end up settling with his usual shirt, sweater, and pants. He didn't understand why you chose him for your shopping spree, but it was a pleasure to drive you around and seeing you try on different clothes.
He was enjoying his time, carefully adjusting himself when no one's watching.
"Okay." You grinned, folding your hands behind you, peering up at Quinn through your lashes. "Quinny, I still have a few things to try on."
You told him that it was the last piece you had in your basket, but it turned out a sweet girl could still lie.
"I can wait." He released the curtains, keeping his gaze on you as it cascaded down to give you privacy. He turned his back, his hand securing the curtains, eliminating any chance of exposure. At that point, he decided to look around and caught sight of a white dress. A pretty one. It would suit you, so he pointed. "She'll try that one too."
The clerk nearby almost jumped to grab it.
Quinn wasn't impressed, his jaw ticking, holding the dress. He waited and waited until you called. He faced the fitting room again, opening the curtains, falling in awe with your tank top and simple-patterned shorts that showed off your legs. He hummed his approval, offering you the dress, pretending to wait for your opinion when he already knew you liked it and would try it too.
"This is perfect, Quinn," you praised. "Give me a sec."
The cycle continued. You changed. You showed it off. You smiled with stars in your eyes. Although, you made the most effort to present him with the dress he chose. You looked like a princess that would take her first summer outing. So beautiful.
If only he could slip into the fitting room. If only he could fuck you against the glass until it fogged over. If only he could come deep inside you that you'd be dripping underneath that dress. If only he could brand you his right here, right fucking now. If only.
Quinn's mood plummeted from his unsatisfied needs, but it didn't stop him from smiling at you after you finally finished dressing to your initial clothes. It didn't stop him from overtaking your card with his to pay for every single clothes you bought in this store as he had from the previous one. It didn't stop him from ignoring your huffs and puffs on your ability to pay. It didn't stop him from grabbing your hand, entwining his fingers with yours.
"What's next?" He asked, almost calling you his love, barely muttering your name as a cover.
"I think I am done shopping," you sighed, leaning against him. "Coffee?"
Coffee it was.
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
Quinn locked the door behind him, tucking your keys in his pocket. Like clockwork, he walked around, making sure all your windows or doors were locked, sighing when he caught a few that were barely latched properly. Then he went upstairs, hearing groans and moans, ignoring them to continue with his task, checking the cameras and microphones along the way.
By the time he was done, he quietly opened your bedroom door, not at all surprised with Lukey jerking himself off and staring at you. He couldn't blame his brother, because you looked like the embodiment of a goddess.
Your nightgown draped over your skin as though it was mist. Your nipples taunted his control for every rise and fall of your chest. Your hair fanned underneath you. Your soft snores filled the air along with Luke's desperate noises.
Quinn knew that Luke was here because of the cameras, that he was masturbating at the sight of you sleeping, that he was on the verge of breaking—just the verge. He should probably give Luke some privacy with you, but he also needed to see the extent of your slumber.
You didn't rouse from the guttural groans from Luke or from the coldness enveloping your skin or from the danger of having two men who viciously wanted you in your vicinity. You were a heavy sleeper. Sober or not.
Quinn intended to keep that as a secret. Maybe Jack would finally discover it faster than Luke. Maybe it would be the other way around. Two possibilities that Quinn didn't give a fuck about, because he already knew.
When Luke finally came, not sloppy but still messy, Quinn couldn't stop staring at your peaceful face. A heavy sleeper indeed.
He lifted his gaze from you to his brother who was now aware of Quin's presence. His head tilting to the side, he observed the Luke's shaken and pale complexion despite the brightness of his cheeks. Your sweet Lukey was scared. A bit too scared, because when Quinn threw him tissues, he fucking flinched. What else did he expect when he was making a mess?
"Clean up." Quinn opened the windows and turned on your fan, making sure the smell of cum didn't linger because Luke, in his state, wouldn't have thought of it.
"Quinn, I was just..." Luke started and failed to finish.
"It's fine, Luke." Quinn didn't bother looking at him, allowing him to calm down on his own rather than make him stew on his actions. He sat on your bed and pulled up your blankets, shielding you from the cold. He couldn't help but feel your cheeks and savor your softness. "No need to explain."
No need to apologize.
Quinn didn't care if Luke jerked off to you. Who fucking cares. He had done worse. Not once did he regret when you came running to him about your unexplainable bruises and scratches on your thighs. Not once did he care about his brothers' opinions and thoughts if they had an inkling of what he was doing in his free time with you. Not once did he waste any time dwelling on what had happened. It didn't matter. Everything must be kept going.
Luke needed to understand that. He shouldn't waste his time being afraid of what and how Quinn would react. He should simply be.
That night wasn't the last time Quinn caught Luke. Also, Jack. The more the summer progressed, the more desperate all three of them got to get as much time as they could with you. Sometimes he went after checking the cameras. Sometimes it would be pure coincidence, Quinn just appearing then catching either of them in your house. The latter admittedly caused him disappointment. He also wanted time.
Just you. Just him.
Sacrifices like that left its mark in his soul, his insides filling with different emotions he couldn't bother to assess. He poured himself with work, with drills, with his deals, with investments. If he couldn't find an alone with you, he might as well use his time for something else. While love burned hotter, his existence was chipping at the edges. His energy dropped past empty.
So, when you popped up in the lake house instead of the little hangout you planned with his brothers, wearing that dress he picked out, he broke his own rules. He must be strong, but his resolve shattered when your hand grabbed his.
"Can I stay here instead of going out with Lukey and Jack?" You asked.
"Yes." His answer was immediate. He pulled you in, closing the door. The tension in his shoulders released the longer he gripped your hand. "What do you want to do?"
"What should we do?" You threw back, looking helpless, looking lost. You stared at him, your eyes drinking every bit of him, your teeth sinking onto your lower lip. "It's like I haven't seen you in so long, Quinn. Where were you?"
"I've been busy." Quinn tucked your hair behind your ear, his hand cupping your cheek. "I missed you. Do you want to eat some—"
Your gave him a tug then your arms wrapped around his lower back, rubbing your face on his chest. You trembled when he hugged you right back, muttering something so low that even with the silence, he couldn't hear it. Then you looked up, your eyes falling on his lips for one second.
"I'm not hungry. I just want some cuddles."
"We can do that." Quinn took you to his room, sitting you on the bed, helping you out of your sandals, noticing a blister on your left foot. "Oh, sweet girl."
"I'm fine. It's a new pair," you mumbled, your cheeks flushing. "It stings a little bit. Not too much."
"A little is already too much."
The only physical pain that you should feel should be mixed with pleasure. Grabbing an ointment from his nightstand, he applied some on your wound, covering it with a band-aid. Slowly, he looked up from your feet to your legs, to your face, his hand moving across the back of your leg.
You were so pliant under his touch even as his hand straight right at the hem of your dress, pushing and testing. Even as he rose until his face was breath away from yours. Even as his lips almost grazed your parting lips. His sweet girl was waiting for a kiss.
Not yet.
He pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose, watching you close your eyes as you swallowed groan.
"Lay down," he ordered, his voice rumbling, "Go on."
Quinn remained excessively close to you, forcing you to crawl backwards. He chuckled from your refusal to meet his gaze again and from how you shift under his blanket, your legs moving, giving him the glimpse of your red and lacy thong. His hand twitched, wanting to spread your legs so he could see it better. His tongue twisted, kind of needing to tell you about safety shorts. His mind hazed, envisioning sliding your panties to the side so he could drive his cock deep in your cunt.
"Quinn?" You peeped, your eyes wide, waiting for him to cuddle you like a good girl.
So, Quinn climbed in, his hand snaking around to your stomach, pulling you against his chest. He whispered, his lips grazing your ear, "What now? What else do you wanna do?"
"Maybe a nap?" Your voice sounded high, your ass scooting closer against his fucking crotch. A pretty little tease.
Quinn gripped your hip, forcing himself back, not letting you feel his cock that immediately hardened from the contact. "Behave, sweet girl. Close your eyes for me."
He waited until you did. His hand ran up and down your hip and waist, caressing you over your dress, giving you a squeeze here and there. His movements were languid but sure, because this was your norm for cuddles. He was only there to please, offering you his touch, grounding you with it. He listened to your satisfied sighs. The murmur of his name escaping your lips turned into even breaths.
It was barely a minute yet here you were, sleeping, fully at ease with his presence. So sure that he wouldn't hurt you. So sure that you were safe. You were, but you also weren't.
His innocent touch turned invasive after an hour. His hand slipped underneath you, groping your tits. His other pushed your dress up, curving around your thigh, cupping your pussy, pulling you back against his cock. He didn't waste any time in grinding against your ass, while he tweaked your nipples and teasing your clit over your panties.
"My Love, I missed you." He pressed a kiss on your head, swallowing his groans. He could feel you getting wetter and wetter, your thighs closing but it wasn't enough to impede his actions. He slid your panties to the side, his fingers dipping in your tight pussy, feeling your walls shake and welcome his intrusion. "You're so responsive, Sweet Girl."
He curled his fingers, reaching your special spot, drawing a tight moan from you. He fingerfucked your pussy, abusing your g-spot, stretching you out, loving how you were still stuck in your dreams. The possibility of them turning into sex dreams aroused Quinn even further.
Then a plan formed in his mind, his heart pounding from the anticipation. He shook you at the same time as he pulled his fingers out, slapping your slutty pussy.
"Wake up, Sweet Girl." He laughed as you jolted with scream as he landed another blow to your sensitive clit. He appeased you by pushing his fingers back in your heat. "Shh, it's okay. It's just me."
"Quinn—ohhh," you rasped, sleep still lingering in your voice, your hips rocking to meet his thrusts, lifting your leg slightly.
You were so greedy.
"I'll give you more if you promise to keep this as a secret." He swirled his thumb around your clit, causing your walls to spasm. "Just like before."
He had only done this once before when you crawled into his bed, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt. Oh, how he fucked you until you were creaming on his hand. He made you promise to keep it as a secret, and you kept it so well. It didn't even cause a rift between you two. He wouldn't have let it anyway.
"I-I promise," you gasped, writhing from the pleasure. You craned your head to the side, meeting his dark gaze with your pure one.
"We're just cuddling, aren't we?" Quinn mocked, savoring your hands snapping to his forearms, your nails immediately digging into his skin. "Don't come just yet, Sweet Girl. Hold it for me. I know you can do it."
You shook your head, sobbing when he gave you another slap. "I can't. It's—" your pussy sucking in his fingers, "—too much."
"You can do it." He nibbled on your ear, watching its tip flush. He thrusted against your ass as hard as his fingers pounded your pussy. He changed the tempo, slowing down ever so slightly. "You're doing so good. Just hold it, hmm?"
"It's so hard," you huffed, crying out, your thighs tensing. "Oh, please, I am—"
You came, sobbing your apology, muttering your relief. You were shaking as he rode your orgasm. You were flinching when he rubbed your cum on your clit, on your inner thighs, on your dress. You were panting while Quinn pushed you on your back and knelt between your thighs. You were gasping when he massaged your quivering thighs.
"You haven't fucked anyone yet, huh?" Quinn caught your cheeks reddened even more. He was so sure before because he felt a slight fight against his fingers, but now he was convinced because of your reaction. He carefully slid your panties back in place, his knuckles running down your slit. "Wear shorts under your dress."
"Okay," you agreed.
"This didn't happen," Quinn pushed, watching your eyes shimmer with tears.
"Okay," you cried.
Quinn leaned down, kissing your cheeks. "Time for another nap?"
"Yes," you sniffed, laying on your side, facing Quinn as he plopped next to you after he adjusted his pants. "I can keep secrets."
"I know." Quinn smiled at your determination. "That's why you're perfect."
He could see your slight hurt, taking something the wrong way, but it was how it should be. If Quinn and his brothers were spiraling because of you, you must feel the same.
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
Quinn smirked at his brothers sneaking out of their tents, rushing to the lake house because they wanted to make you breakfast before their planned sailing activity. He only sat back on his chair, relaxing to the early morning chill accompanied bg the sound of nature waking.
He hadn't slept. He couldn't especially after he heard Luke scampering out of his tent in pure panic from a nightmare, crawling into your tent, humping your unresponsive body. He knew his brother was on the cusp of a breaking point despite him getting the pleasure he needed. It was just a waiting game now.
After a few more minutes and a distant scream following a loud metal thud coming from the lake house, you finally opened your tent, looking so flushed as you crawled out in a huge shirt that swallowed your frame. You were gripping its hem, keeping it low. Your legs were rubbing together. Your body trembled in a panic.
"What's wrong?" Quinn asked.
"I...I had a weird dream," you stuttered, massaging your temples. "I think I remember Lukey...doing...he was doing something to me."
That was a first. Did you remember last night?
"But it was just a dream Lukey wouldn't do anything like that." You shook your head.
"Like what?" Quinn chimed, his head tilting. "What was he doing?"
You blushed, rubbing your legs together, panting as you visibly pondered, weighing whether you would tell him or not.
"Well?" he pushed.
"He was just doing things..." You covered your face, looking so adorably embarrassed. "…that felt good."
It was cute that you couldn't even tell what it was, looking excessively helpless like you were afraid Quinn would laugh at you or accuse you of horrifying things.
"You had a wet dream? With Luke? Out of the three of us? You dreamt of Luke?" He leaned his jaw on his loose fist, relaxing into the chair, knowing for certain that Luke's sweet image would be safe.
"Don't tease me, Quinny," you whisper-yelled, sitting down on your chair, scooting closer to Quinn. "It felt so real."
Because it was real.
"Wet dreams feel like that. You think your Lukey would violate you like that? I don't think he could fathom doing anything like that." His voice didn't even shake from the lie he was weaving to cover for Luke. "Although," he paused, drinking in your panicked gaze, "It would make sense if it were me, wouldn't it?" He looked at you head to toe, chuckling as you curled them. He licked his lips. "But no one came into your tent, Sweet Girl. I was watching."
A pause filled the air. Your hand gripped the hem of your shirt, baring more of your thighs. You gulped, closing your legs further. Your breaths got heavier the more you got flustered. You gulped, looking away. Then, instead of worrying about dilemma, instead of telling him off for reminding you of what happened days ago, you asked:
"You didn't sleep? All night?"
"Someone needed to keep watch." He reached for the thermos balancing on the sandy ground, pouring you a cup of tea he had brewed an hour ago. "Drink this. It'll help with the hangover."
You accepted the paper cup, still looking worried. "Quinn..."
"I don't mind staying up late." He stripped off his hoodie, shaking his hair out, offering it to you. "Here."
You accepted it too, placing it over your lap, sipping your tea gingerly. You were still visibly shaken from your 'dream', from his implications, from his admittance that he didn't sleep yet. You shouldn't really bother with anything. There was no need for unnecessary worry. You were safe.
Soon enough, his brothers appeared from the lake house, each holding a tray, each trying to overtake the other.
"Looks like breakfast is here."
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
Quinn wished there was a way that his fingers would still smell like your pussy like how he could still feel your walls clamping around them. That would be such an ideal alternate reality. He would simply bring his hand up to his nose and smell them like he was snorting on fucking drugs. He might even lick and suck them, remembering your taste, wishing his tongue was fucking you as he ate the only thing he had been craving for in days. But alas, reality was boring.
Gone was your scent. Gone was his appetite for actual food.
He glared at the plate that Jack left for him. A simple chicken sandwich and a side salad with the dressing in a miniature cup. The idiot even left a note that he should eat and that he was gone to do Quinn's errand—fixing that specific camera which angle was off and was bothering Quinn for days.
He should be the one fixing that, but he saw Jack acting snappy during the morning, barely making progress in his hockey drills, jumping all over the place like he was high on his own existence, so he told Jack to do it.
His brother locked in his drills, even made lunch, rushing off like a tornado, leaving a mess behind him in terms of bowls and pans in the sink. Such a handful, that one.
Quinn didn't bother cleaning up, snatching the post-it from the counter, replacing it with a note for Luke to eat it instead. He went up to his room and laid down on his bed, scrolling to different video feeds through his phone. He watched Jack greet you with a hug, smiling at you with mischief, pretending that he was just passing by.
He shifted to his side, watching everything like he was watching a Netflix show instead. By the looks of it, as Jack sat on your bed with a plate of apple pie, he already knew his brother had forgotten what he was supposed to do.
Quinn sighed, rubbing his palm on his face, his touch lingering on his jaw. He needed to shave, but later.
"I'll take a quick shower, Jack. Finish the pie, okay?" You stood up, waiting and staring at Jack until he nodded, totally wrapped around your finger. "I'll be super quick."
"Take your time..." his brother murmured, his head following you to your ensuite, eating and eating.
Yeah, he totally fucking forgot what to do.
Instead of watching Jack alternate between wolfing down the pie and savoring it, he switched cameras to you standing in the shower. Fuck, you were majestic. Every curve, every line, your body was everything. He had touched every single part of you already and he wished to fuck you until he owned you. It included your precious ass.
What would you do if he pushed anal plug in there every night to stretch you out? Would you notice? Would you wake up at the tight stretch? Would you cry if he left it for you to discover in the morning? Would you call him for help?
You lathered up your body with soap, carefully washing yourself, looking like a delicious meal that he wished he could grab through the screen.
At that point, Quinn sent Jack a reminder on his task, shaking him out of his dissociation. When he was asked if he was watching, he affirmed but he didn't say that he was watching you. There was literally nothing he could get from watching his brother struggling with remembering. Quinn would always rather watch you.
When you finally rinsed and dried yourself, you only put on a specific shirt that Quinn had borrowed from Jack before, the one he labelled because Luke kept wearing it for practice, the one that he accused Quinn of stealing because it disappeared.
"You're the little thief," Quinn mused, a laugh bubbling up his throat. He stood to get to his PC, booting it up quickly. "Naughty girl, Jack would eat you up."
He was right.
As soon as you opened the door after you brushed your teeth and after you placed a towel on your head, Jack clocked the shirt. The shift in energy could be felt by Quinn too. There was a specific possessive glint in his eyes as he prowled to where you were, as he made you confess that was his, as he forced against your drawer.
"You think I'm fucking blind or something?" He trapped you there, barring his teeth just enough to shake you to the core.
"No, I..." You bit, when Jack grabbed the front of your shirt, giving you an unforgiving tug. You were so scared, your hands shaking, your eyes welling up with tears, your lips curving down in a pout. "Jack...come on. It's just one shirt."
"Wanna keep it?" Jack asked, his mood changing, the fury in his eyes turning into mischief. He grinned when you nodded, letting you go, reveling at the sight of you wobbling on your feet.
You were panting as your eyes dipped to Jack's lips, blinking slowly, staring until his brother did the same.
Quinn already knew what would happen as you two came closer like a magnet was drawing you in. His hands turned into fists as Jack captured your lips harshly, kissing you and biting you. His chest tightened as you tried to reciprocate his feral kiss, as you tried to push his brother away, as you whined when you were lifted over the dresser. A lump built into this throat as you pushed and pulled and melted, losing yourself in that kiss.
He wanted to be there too. He wanted to slide his hand to your pussy, feeling your arousal drip from your cunt. He wanted to kiss your neck, leaving mark after mark, biting down hard until you cried. He wanted to hear you cry out his name as you did with Jack's. He wanted—
Jack, the fucking idiot, stepped back. His face turned pale, panting in horror. Then he left you there, ignoring your calls.
"Jack, please," you sobbed. "Don't leave me."
Every sob was like a stab of a knife, driving deeper with a twist. It was painful to see you cry, to see you break, to see you all alone. Don't worry. Quinn could fix this.
His phone rang with Jack's name on the screen. It took him a second to calm down, to quell his anger, to clear his mind.
"Q, I—"
"If you want to fuck her, do it," he cut him off, rubbing at his chest. "You're making her cry."
"Is she?" A pause. "Fuck, she is." Then another pause. Like a petulant child getting what he wanted, he asked, "Can I really fuck her?"
"Do what you want but be patient with her." He brushed his hair back, his muscles flexing from the tension. "Do not tell Luke. Convince our girl to keep this a secret even from her precious Lukey."
Quinn threw his phone on the desk, shaking off the remnants of pain and anger inside him. He fixed it. Now, you had Jack giving you the affection you deserved. His brother had you. Quinn had the view unfolding before his eyes.
Oh, what a sight it was. You chasing after Jack's touches. You crying and writhing from being eaten out. You sobbing and flushing hard from the violent mixture of degradation and praises. You flinching and accepting the harsh and bruising slaps to your skin. Your pussy bleeding when Jack bottomed out inside you, fucking you in unforgiving thrusts. You were so perfect.
⊹˚.⟡˖ ࣪.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆✮⋆ ˖ ݁ 𖥔. ࣪˖⟡.˚⊹
Quinn poured three glasses of whiskey, downing his before his brothers could take theirs, refilling his glass once more. He could barely feel the burn, the warmth settling in his empty stomach. He hadn't been eating as he needed according to his meal plans, but there was nothing he could do. He had a problem, it seemed.
"It's the ghosts!" Jack pointed at Quinn, shaking Luke's arm to get his attention as if he didn't just take your virginity that Luke was going for years. He kept the secret to himself. Unfazed. Carefree. Not a single change in his behavior. "The ghosts got to Quinn even if it's the off season."
"Read the room, Jack," Luke hissed, his fingers tracing over the rim of his glass.
Quinn drank again because of the headache caused by Jack's repetitive joke and pointing. It was funny at first, but it had gotten to that point. He remained silent, letting the two bicker around in circles, waiting until they finally got tired of each other.
"I'll visit her tonight," he announced. He needed you and he really had enough of them. "Do something else. I don't care, but I swear if either of you showed up, I'll take her for myself."
Luke gulped, nodding in understanding, while Jack huffed, glaring like he would complain.
"Fine, whatever," Jack huffed. "Only because you clearly need her." He crossed his arms, not even giving the glass of whiskey in front him a single glance. "What's wrong with you anyway?"
"You don't drink whiskey," Luke chimed in.
"I do." Quinn lifted his glass before he took it to the sink. The two shots were enough. He gave Jack a bland look. "I just need her. Alone. For one night." When they remained silent, he continued, "I get headaches and stuff. That's it."
"I thought it was something bad," Jack sighed, pushing his glass towards Luke. "It's just fucking withdrawal."
"As if you don't experience the same thing," Luke defended.
"I—"
"Enough." Quinn cut off Jack who immediately complained about being the one he cut off every time. "I'll bring her here tomorrow for breakfast."
That diverted what the two got going on from Quinn to breakfast. They talked about pancakes and waffles and the toppings you loved. It finally gave Quinn the opportunity to breathe, because for a second, he thought they'd try to bargain their way into his demand. However, they didn't.
It was wonderful, really. One of the reasons why he loved them. They might not have understood the depth of Quinn's frustration—or withdrawal—but they knew his limits as he knew theirs. They didn't push. They didn't tease too much. That was more than enough.
So, he finally sat down, commenting about breakfast here and there, feeling at ease.
In his silence, he pondered how the coming year would go. He would be ready if there were problems that came up. He would overcome it.
Then, they would finally have you.
All for themselves.
Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated. 💜
-> more on this AU? Their Sweet Girl List
-> more thoughts? Dark List
-> Want to be notified? Join my taglist!
-> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜
-> Want to leave a tip? You can through my Writing Jar (ko-fi)! 💜
What if you finally give in to him? Like you tell him that he owns your mind, body, and soul?
I know this is dumb, and it's okay if you don't want to do this.
I love Dark!Quinn so much!!!!!!!!!
🚩Hi! Dark Content ahead! 🚩
Hi, lovely! Been so long since my last dark blurb. Are you still there? I hope you are. Again, that (your prompty/thot) is my dream. Being owned--WHAT?! Who said that?! Anyway, dark blurb requests are open again (i say while being a snail). Remember to follow the request format 🧎🏻♀️🧎🏻♀️🧎🏻♀️
Your Submission
Relationship: dark bf!Q x F!Reader
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Dark (not too dark but also not light. in the middle, imo 🫡. Unhinged Q thoughts), Extreme Overprotectiveness and Possessiveness, Dominance (m), Submission (f), Handjob, Slight oral sex (m receiving), Unprotected Sex
Disclaimer | Inbox Rules | Dark Masterlist | Taglist
Quinn would be staring at you from the living room, his mind telling him to help you with chopping the vegetables you were prepping, his worry simmering as the thump, thump, thump felt like it was cleaving his soul. He wanted to make the mise en place but you told him that you discovered a dish you wanted to cook for him, so he let you. Worst decision of his life. Knives were a hazard. Your grip might slip. You might get hurt. He fucking hated that.
He couldn't sit still until you finally finished with the prep. He had to swallow his protest when you opened the stove so abruptly that you jumped when the fire started. Fuck that. He needed to change the stove into an electric stove. His heart pounded in his chest, up his throat, up his head.
Honestly. He wasn't used to you cooking or having the initiative to cook anymore. He had established that he would be cooking for both of you. The fridge was full of meal preps that he made and that were only labelled when they were made. He made sure there would be a variety per week. You were free to grab two—or three—for lunch or dinner or even breakfast. You could heat them up in the microwave...
His thoughts trailed, suddenly thinking that you may even be using the fucking stove to heat them up. He truly needed to buy a better stove. Maybe induction would be better. It didn't matter if he needed to buy new cookware. He would buy anything as long as he would be sure that you were safe 24/7.
What if he increased your allowance instead? You could order takeouts from restaurants. You did liked going out for brunch sometimes. You sent him a lot of photos whenever he was on the road. That was another dilemma he had a hard time grasping. If you were out, possible danger to your wellbeing increased tenfold.
It was already hard for him to accept that food elsewhere didn't pose danger, but he understood you deserved to be spoiled with whatever you wanted to eat. The thought of you out and about—with your friends or not—without him had made him lose it. He would snap at his teammates, his hands vibrating as he clenched his fist around his phone while he marked every meal photo, every selfie you sent. He would count the seconds that turned into minutes, into hours until you texted him that you were home. Only then would he loosen up. Only then could he breathe.
He only wanted you to be safe. Was that a hard ask? He told you that many times, but he didn't think you understood the weight of his words. Especially when you almost grabbed the hot metal lid of the pot. He had enough. He was up immediately, casually guiding you out of the way, not minding when you planted your hands on your waist.
If you were anybody else, he would've tuned you out, but you were you. He listened to your complaints and your adorable attempt to take over again. Not like you could do anything. No matter how hard you try to push him and snatch your ladle, he was still stronger than you. And you knew that.
The moment Quinn met your eyes, you immediately froze. The moment he looked at your outstretched hand, you dropped it to your side. He didn't need to do anything else. He merely looked at you and he already had you stepping back. Your heart beat faster, visibly shown by the way your carotid artery pulsed. When he finally gazed at your eyes with your pupils swallowing your irises, you let out that tiny pathetic whimper.
"Sit down," he ordered, his voice rumbling out of his lips. His lips twitched into a smirk when you did as you were told. "Such a good girl, my Love."
He pretended he didn't see you shifting on the stool, your legs closing tightly, your breaths turning ragged. Oh, he was fucking hard. Did you know how difficult it was to focus on the dish you were making when he knew how wet your sweet cunt was right now? Did you know how much his cock ached almost immediately at the sight of you following him? You might not listen to his reminders, but when he was with you, you did. Every time. Like a good little slut desperate to please him.
"Now tell me what to do with this," he said in a calm tone.
You stuttered, your words sounding like whines, your voice wobbling like you were about to cry. He could practically hear your need for him the longer he ignored you. Oh, he had spoiled you. You think you could just defy him, prevent him from protecting you, be so fucking careless with yourself. You deserved to be ignored. Just a little punishment for you, because you needed to learn your lesson.
"Quinny," you called after he finished cooking and did the initial clean up. "I thought I was good. Why are you ignoring me?"
Of course, you didn't get it. You were so intelligent in your career and in life, yet when it came to him, you were utterly clueless.
He stepped into your space, his knee nudging yours open, his hand grabbing your neck, the other softly caressing your cheek. His fingers grazed over your face. When he squeezed over your pulse, you gasped, leaning towards him, seeking more and more. You were too perfect. His damnation.
You knew he loved you, but you never understood how deeply. You were the cause of his insanity. You were the haze over his logical mind. You were the blood in his veins. You were a promise of escape. Of comfort. Of salvation. The claws of your existence gripped around his heart, making him bleed, making the muscles work harder and harder and harder. You were his reason to live and to keep playing in front of many. You were everything and beyond. Yet you didn't know that. You saw him but also didn't. He kept trying to make you see, but as much as you follow his order, as much as a good girl you were, you were still so blind to his love.
That frustrated him.
"How many times do I have to tell you to be careful?" He traced his thumb over your eyebrow, down over your eye which you closed. Your breath hitched when he gave it the slightest pressure, when he pushed you back that he knew the counter must be digging on your back. "How many times, my Love?"
"I am careful," you blurted, clearly unintentionally.
He frowned, stepping back. You nearly fell and he almost fucking caught you. He was so weak when it came to you. It took all of him to walk away. All of him not to grab you and carry you up his shoulder. All of him not to laugh when you run after him. Just like that you had also eased the darkness that was swallowing him whole.
He didn't stop, folding his sleeves, undoing the second button of his shirt, until he reached your shared room. He sat on the bed, nearly groaning when you knelt between his parted legs without instructions.
"Sorry, Q. I'm trying," you reasoned as your hands shook while you undid his buckles, his pants. Your breaths were loud and choppy.
"Not fucking new," he spat. His voice was full of venom that had your tears welling up your eyes. "You always try, but you are clumsy and a fucking brat." Your tears fell, yet you moaned when he held your hand around his leaking cock. "The pot could've burned your hand when we have a fucking mitten." Up and down, he guided your fist. His voice was almost a fucking growl. "Trying is not enough. You need to be careful. Repeat it."
"I'll be careful," your voice hitched as he groaned when he swiped your thumb and his over his dribbling slit.
"Promise me."
"I promise," you sighed when he wiped at your tears with that same thumb. You parted your lips immediately when he pressed on them. When he slipped his thumb over your tongue, you whimpered before you sucked. You jerked him, burning pleasure all over his body. You say with his thumb in your mouth, "Oh, Quinn... can I?"
He hummed, pressing his thumb further inside, but he didn't. He always held himself back. It was tiring, but he never cared. You weren't ready for him. He would wait even for all of his life until you were. He was waiting, because if he didn't, you would break. You would run away. He would be forced to lock you up, chain you down in the villa he had purchased so long ago. He didn't want that, because it would mean that he would not have you. He didn't want a husk that wouldn't love him back. That would be a nightmare. No. Never. He only wished for you to love him as intensely as he loved you.
"I want to have you," you muttered.
'You already have me," was what he wanted to say.
He nodded, letting you go, leaning back on one hand, grabbing your hair, when you licked from his base to tip, lapping and sucking on his crown. Holy fucking shit. He met the movement of your head with small thrusts that took him deeper down your throat. He cursed as you gagged, as you gulped, as you moaned around him.
When he felt he was about to come, he pulled you up, kissing you with his tongue meshing yours. His hands gripped your waist, letting you ride along his dick, shorts damp from your pussy drooling. He scratched along your back, his trimmed nails digging into your skin. He unclasped your bra, prying it off you after your shirt.
"You're so wet for me." Quinn praised, kissing down your throat, sucking on your flesh hard enough to leave bruises. He laid you down on the bed, helping you out of your bottoms, smirking at the way your arousal leaked. "All for me."
His finger traced your slit, making a mess with your pussy juices, teasing your quivering entrance. Your pussy was physically hot, drenched, thirsty. He didn't bother with his clothes. He couldn't when you felt so soft on dick. Slowly, he slid in. Both of you gasped at the mere sensation of each other.
He needed you. He needed you. He needs you—
Then you said words that his ears ringing, his heart threatening to explode, his cock painfully hardening.
"Take everything. This is all for you, Quinn. I'm all yours."
He couldn't move. His eyes marked every detail of your face. No tells. No lies. Your submission to him was silent yet loud, clear like crystal glass, so fucking exquisite. You were just lying there with your eyebrows drawn, your hands next to your head and waiting to be held, your cheeks flushing, your teeth sinking down on your lower lip.
He was fucking shaking as he gripped your wrists over your head. He lowered himself, letting his weight pin you down.
"Say it again," he panted. His desperation leaked from the cracks you've made on his control.
"I'm yours." A tear fell down the side of your eye. "Stop looking at me like I don't love you. I do. Stop holding back. Use me. Take me. Do whatever you want."
He hissed, pressing his forehead against yours. Ah, now he realized that maybe you were ready all along. Maybe he was the clueless one after all.
He kissed you, rougher than he had ever did, as he fucked you, long and deep. His teeth bit down on your lips, drawing your blood that he lapped at greedily. The taste of cooper had his eyes rolling back. Fuck. He needed that so much that his eyes burned with tears.
"Mine," he growled into the skin of your neck. He licked the sheen of sweat forming on your skin, biting and nipping your flesh. "Mine. Mine. Mine."
He let go of your hands to take your thighs. He pushed them up, spreading you, opening you. He rammed into you, reaching and abusing the spot that had you screaming, that had you coming, that had you writhing. He didn't stop. He couldn't. He grinded into you, tugging at your clit.
You thrashed as another orgasm was taken out of you. Over and over again. Until he came so deep inside of you.
It wasn't enough.
As you two pant, you both knew it wasn't enough.
So he fucked you through his over sensitized half-mast, his balls protesting. He didn't care. His 'i love you's were melting into unintelligible words that mixed with his claiming 'mine's.
-> more thoughts? Dark List.
-> Want to be notified? Join my taglist!
-> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜
-> Want to leave a tip? You can through my Writing Jar (ko-fi)! 💜
okay but what about dark!quinn after installing the cameras finds out his sweet girl, is actually cam girl … that would absolutely send him
🚩Dark content below 🚩
Hello, lovely. Distracted. I am so distracted. The blurbs I am working on shall stare at me like 👁👄👁 anyway... 🫠 let me try... i got no clue about cam girls (just thought about Twitch in general lmao)
Cunning and Sweet
Relationship: Stalker!Q x F!Reader
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Dark, cam girl!Reader, Extreme Stalking / Satlker!Q, Deranged behavior, Masturbation, Non-consensual Voyeurism (installation of video and audio devices, watching and recording) 🚩
Disclaimer | Inbox Rules | Dark Masterlist | Taglist
Quinn would take weeks of watching and observing you and taking in your routine. From your morning walks to your midday coffee, to your grocery shopping. Everything. If it were up to him, he would be doing this 24/7. Nonetheless, he would enjoy seeing your beautiful face while you take your strolls.
It wouldn't be long until he found out where you live. It was a normal and secure apartment. It was so easy to find. You were so easy to follow. You didn't even look over your shoulder when he was literally arm’s length behind you, staring so hard at the sway of your ass, at the scent trail of your perfume. Normally, people would look back or walk faster after feeling the danger lurking behind them. Not you.
He got to follow you to a supermarket, watched you fill your basket with chocolates, whipped cream, bananas, and ice cream, and saw you buy fishnet stockings. It was a bit confusing. But Quinn didn't mind, especially when he got to see where you live. From the darkened streets of the night, he watched you climb the stairs. Smiling, heart pounding, of course, you chose the stairs like you knew he was watching you.
He stared and watched the motion-sensor lights lit up for every floor you climb. He guessed it was not secure enough when he could see which floor you got up to. He only waited just a few more seconds to see which apartment you would get to. Luckily, you were the type to turn on the lights, the type to open a window to let in the night's breeze. Now, he didn't need to crosscheck if it was actually your apartment.
Although, the security was...secure enough. He couldn't even go in without a pass. Even delivery men got hold-up by the guard. He remedied the dilemma with a quick purchase. Did you know the owners—yes, the owners—of the apartments next to yours were amicable? They didn't try to hold onto their properties at all when Quinn presented his legal ties. He promised that he definitely did not lay out specific threats to their character. At all.
Anyway, Quinn didn't move entirely. He wouldn't. As far as anyone knew, he didn't buy anything. He didn't need anyone to find out his newfound love. He only wanted to have you for himself. So, Quinn did the most logical next steps of your relationship. He snuck into your apartment.
How did he sneak in your apartment? Well, did you know that you typed in your door code openly? You should really, really, really be careful. What if someone else saw your code? What if they did things to you? That was so dangerous, y'know? So irresponsible.
Quinn managed to plant cameras and audio recorders in your apartment. In every room. In different corners. He even placed one under your desk, wondering why you got such an amazing PC set up. You even got a high-end microphone. You must be gaming a lot. He was excited to know what games you play.
He rummaged through your drawers, smirking when he found your lace lingerie sets, and your sex toys and lube, frowning when he noticed a tripod set up by your bed which was different from the camera mount for your PC, but he saw an package box so maybe you were just trying to set it up.
Quinn didn't think much of it. He should have.
Because now, after he jerked himself off to the sight of you changing into a comfy pajama shorts and a cropped top that was so thin he could see the outline of your lace bra, after he watched you put on makeup, after he salivate at the sight of your shorts riding up your thighs from the camera under your desk, he felt his hackles rising as you kept talking to someone while you put your legs up the desk. Quinn could see you in your monitor, how erotic and beautiful you looked. Then you said something about donations, about you getting a private call so you would be right back.
He couldn't process what was happening. He felt like he was losing every sense of reality when he noticed how different you were as you talked to the motherfucker you got a private call with. He couldn't fucking understand how you could talk and talk to the other person who didn't even show their face or voice—you weren't wearing headphones so it was clear you were talking to a person who was chatting you—how you could smile so differently. Not fake, no. Just a different kind of smile. You still looked so free and genuine. You still looked pretty. A smile that also had his cock aching for more than his fist.
"Why am I doing this? Well, is there something wrong with being a cam girl?" "Oh, oh no. I prefer this site." "I love talking with you. What else do you want to talk about?" "Oh I love that too." "You can send me gifts. I got a P.O. box. What are you going to send me?"
And so fucking on.
Your voice sounded so beautiful. Yet the only thing that stuck to him was the term cam girl. What the fuck is that? A quick google search had his vision darkening. Especially when he saw you teasingly slid up your cropped shirt to the point of the under breasts were showing. This was fucking vile. Other people were seeing you. He fucking hated that. He was the only one who was supposed to.
Quinn easily went to the site, not caring to go incognito. Everything was a blur as he made his account and somehow find your waiting room or whatever the fuck it was called. His ears were ringing when he clocked in how you suggestively squeezed whipped cream in your mouth, when you laughed so beautifully, when you bit your lower lip.
He felt himself breaking. His sanity, to be exact. The longer he watched you from his own video feeds, the more cracks raptured. He couldn't focus on anything else when you finally came back to your livestream. He hated the messages that came pouring in. The compliments. The donations. He fucking hated every single one of them, because they were not coming from him. So, he fucking donated, his heart fluttering when you leaned closer in disbelief at his first time donation, his cheeks burning when you grin.
"Welcome in, Q43! You are so generous. Thank you so much. I can finally buy the dress and lingerie I have been looking at. Do you want to see it?"
You were so fucking happy that it made him happy while also so angry. He honestly felt like he wasn't there anymore, even when you showed up on your stream. He was on autopilot, leaning back while you rambled about the clothes you wanted to buy, showing it to the camera.
You addressed his username. Over and over again. It was you and only him despite your hundreds of viewers. Just like that you made him feel special.
Yet also not.
The fact that your beauty was exposed to other people remained. Didn't you know dangerous that was? P.O. box? You mean an open invitation to vile people to wait for you to pick up your package? Weren't you aware how despicable this world was? You should be. Why were you so fucking dumb—
Quinn had to shake his head, getting angry at himself for calling you that. You were far from dumb. You were cunning. You knew exactly how to play with your viewers that they were spending money on you. Honestly, he was so fucking proud that you felt so comfortable and at ease talking about whatever that came to your mind while wearing clothes that highlighted you.
He was supposed to be angry at you. He was because he was so fucking concerned. Yet for some reason, he felt more proud, more amazed, more allured to you. Watching you for months and learning you, he knew that you didn't need the money. He knew that you loved the power you hold over these people pining for your attention.
So he forgave you. Just a bit.
After you logged off for the night, after you take a quick shower to remove your makeup, after you slid under your covers, after you fucked your hand and screamed your released, after your breaths evened out, he was already there. He only loomed over you, his hand sliding over his crotch, swallowing his groan.
He tried not to do anything else, but you turned over your back, making your sheets slide down, exposing the sight of your pretty tits under your silk nightgown. He couldn't stop himself. His fist came around his cock, desperately jerking himself off. His lips spilled out his words in whispers.
"You're so amazing. So beautiful." He groaned under his breath. He continued until he finally came into his palm, stating, "You're mine."
Quinn started sending you different things to your P.O. box. Little toys you could pleasure yourself on. Little snacks. Literally anything. He would be rewarded with you using said toys under your desk when he paid for a private call, basically getting yourself off just for him, or just eating the snacks. You would look so fucking giddy. He was ecstatic.
His nightly visits had gotten worse. More frequent. He tried to touch you, but did you know you easily rouse when touched? You nearly caught him. So many times. He loathed that.
So, he pushed in harder, because if he was finding a harder time getting to you, you needed to be punished for that. Instead of the P.O. box, he started sending things to your address. He watched you crumble.
You got jumpy, couldn't open your stream so you announced taking a break, couldn't sleep so you started taking sleeping supplements.
Quinn liked that, because when he finally crawled over you, you didn't wake. When he couldn't stop his chuckle from escaping him, you didn't rouse. When he finally touched your face, you remained asleep. Oh, the things he would do to you.
However, he stepped back, because he saw your dark circles, saw the frown in your sleep. For some reason, he felt guilty. A new feeling he had yet to feel. Taking your hand, softly kissing your palms, your knuckles, your fingers, he whispered his apologies.
"Sorry, my Love. Sorry. I just got frustrated. I didn't mean to scare you. I will do better," he said, inhaling your soft scent. Then he got off the bed, watching you from far away, ignoring his hard cock. "I promise."
The next day he decided to bump into you, smiling his kindest smile, luring you in with a coincidental touch as he helped you in picking up the few things that fell. He grinned when you let him walk you to your car, making small talk about a specific book he spotted on your bookshelves, watching your eyes sparkled at your shared interest, your lips parting when he asked for your number. This time, he would have you and he would not let go.
I know it's all over the place. But yay, i finally wrote another dark fic again. Little victories. Although it is not too smutty. Sorry. It will be more smutty next time yeah 🫠🫡
Good night 🫣😶🌫️🏃🏻♀️🏃🏻♀️🏃🏻♀️
-> more thoughts? Dark List.
-> Want to be notified? Join my taglist!
-> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜
-> Want to leave a tip? You can through my Writing Jar (ko-fi)! 💜
dark Quinn tormenting you with the gifts he's leaving behind, making you go all paranoid
🚩Dark content🚩
Hello, lovely. Another dark quinn request to distract me, I see. My drabbles are taking a hit coz my braincells are literally vibrating with need. Let me try. Read the warning. I am not playing around. 😔 this is deranged. I am sorry.
His Gifts
Relationship: Stalker!Q x F!Reader
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Dark, Extreme Stalking / Stalker!Q, Leaving gifts, Deranged behavior, Masturbation (f and m), Non-consensual Voyeurism (installation of video and audio devices, watching and recording), Non-con (slightly turning to Dub-con), Reader has a cat (i.e. i gave you a cat here)
Disclaimer | Inbox Rules | Dark Masterlist | Taglist
The moment Quinn learned where you lived and figured out how to access your temporary home—temporary since it wouldn't be long until he has you in his—he already got every gift he wanted to give you all planned out.
He would start out small. Things you wouldn't notice or realize it was there, like carefully adding one flower to your vase. The very first one he added was a beautiful red rose in full bloom, while the very recent one was a peony for his sweet girl.
Like putting a couple more fruits in your fruit bowl. Whether it would be red apples which he obviously learned your favorite variety or oranges. He would be so happy whenever he saw you picking up the exact fruit he put there through the cameras. He would be so hard in his pants, making him take a breather in the restrooms which always ended up with him stroking his cock while watching you eat or make smoothies out of them. He couldn't help it. To be able to provide you with little things was turning him on so much.
Then he would start fixing things that he noticed when he installed the cameras and that he saw you tiredly sighing at from to time. The flickering overhead lights in your doorway were changed. The askewed picture frames that kept bothering you were now realigned with the previous hole covered and painted like it didn't exist. Your leaking showerhead were tightened and fixed. The squeaky fucking doors were no longer an issue which were also bothering him whenever he sneaked in during the night. Your torn handkerchiefs and dresses were now wonderfully mended because he did learn how to sew just for you.
It was so amusing to find you all confused when the little inconviniences were not existent now. He caught you trying to open and close your bedroom in the live feed he watched before a game. He couldn't contain his chuckle, earning looks from some of his teammates. How could he when you coincidently noticed the picture frames too? You were so shaken up, calling and blaming your parents because you assumed they broke into your space. He would've continued watching and listening to you all ruffled up, but he needed to play.
After that he would escalate his actions, leaving a whole bouquet by your front door, in the fire exit that's by your bedroom, in your living room. You would be up in arms, calling the cops.
How could you prove it was left inside your apartment and that you didn't take it inside when for some odd reason, your neighbors kept affirming that you've been taking the flowers from a delivery guy? But that couldn't be possible, could it? You were out the whole day. How could you accept a delivery? How was it every time the cameras of your apartment building malfunctions?
Such difficult questions to ask when he got all your neighbors in his payroll now—some were bribed and threatened, some had followed him like a god as their favorite hockey player—and maybe, just maybe, he knew someone in the police. You would feel wronged when the cops wouldn't even take your statement. You would feel fucking crazy that you would sob so hard during the night.
Quinn would hate—hated—your tears. He might have caused it, but he fucking hated it, but then the way you cowered under your bedsheets got his blood boiling and searing down his cock. There was something about how vulnerable you looked, how you would flinch at every sound, how you would look back even in your apartment that he couldn't resist. He needed to see more.
From roses to stuff toys to chocolate bars to dresses. He was leaving everything for you, spoiling you fucking rotten if you would use them. You kept throwing them in a closet, trying to hide them, so sometimes Quinn would carefully lay a curated outfit on your bed with a note: "This would look good on you."
He wouldn't sign it. Fuck, he would like to, but he tried to be sensible when he was absolutely losing it about the possibility of you actually putting on the outfits. He liked leaving necklaces of gold and diamonds, and bags from brands you usually buy from. Did you know you could go to the shop and ask who purchased them? Quinn didn't you do. Or if you do, you wouldn't think about it past the paranoia.
He tried and tried to get you to wear them, leaving more and more notes. His handwriting turned askewed—more shaky, more scribbly—perfectly reflecting the torrent of emotions inside him. A mixture of desperation and wrath that would increase day-by-fucking-day. He needed you to wear what he bought you. Yet you didn't. Not once you did.
The very next day you got a pet with you. A cat. What ferocious looking thing. A little family pet you've taken for protection. It was a sorry attempt, as if a cat could deter him, but the sight of it hissing at your friends, scratching at you, made him concerned. It was beyond feral. How could one's family pet be so...demonic?
He took a great amount of research to tame it. How would he leave you your gifts when you got a guard cat? Research, he did. He would be so worried. He wouldn't want to hurt an animal. A person, he would with no hesitation. But a cat? No. Never. He was not a monster. Still, he would be so troubled.
That was until he met it. It was only staring at Quinn as he laid out your clothes. Then it came sauntering around his leg, rubbing itself on his pants, purring when he leaned down to scratch its belly.
"A protector, huh?" He barked a laugh, taking the feline on his arm. "You wouldn't hurt me, would you?"
It would purr, basically vibrating. With it in his arms, he wrote his note: "Cute cat. It would be a shame to hurt it. Wear the clothes. Q."
Again, Quinn wouldn't hurt such a lovely feline that liked him very much, but he could use it to threaten you. He even signed the card to get closer to you. And it worked. After seeing you scream and break, hugging your poor cat so tightly that it hisses as it ran away from you, you wore the clothes.
You looked so, so, so pretty. Even with the tears. Especially with the tears. He fucked his fist so hard that he came all over the screen. He wouldn't even be satisfied with that. He knew he should be doing the next step to your relationship.
When the night came, after he watched you cry yourself to sleep from the fire escape, he would loom over you. Softly, he would touch your legs and arms, testing your sleep, then he would lift your arms, tying you up securely to your headboard, covering your eyes with a blindfold.
Crawling down to your thighs, spreading them, marvelling how your lace panties look on you. He would glide his thumb over your slit, glancing at you if you would wake up, but you didn't. Well, not yet anyway.
He would lick over your clothe pussy, from entrance to clit, sucking the bundle of nerves that had you rousing. He could feel your confusion and your panic, but he would continue his assault until he could hear your screams, could feel your legs kicking at him but he gripped your thighs down. He would chuckle into your heat as you get wetter and wetter. Your screams turned into moans and whimpers when he tore your panties off you.
"I got you, my Love. Trust me," he taunted.
"Fuck," you replied, your hips jutting up trying to find relief. "No."
"Liar," he laughed, not touching you again. You did say no. "You looked so beautiful in the dress. You liked it, didn't you? I can give you everything. Anything you would want."
You bit your lower lip, shaking your head so adamantly, whimpering when he blew on your quivering pussy. "Please, please, please."
Quinn didn't know you could break him with mere words, but you did. You were pleading for him. Your pitiful attempts to reach him has pushed him further into his depravity. So he licked your pussy, eating you out, pushing and grinding his nose against your clit, listening to your wanton moans. He could only groan as he slid his tongue into your pussy, tasting you, savoring every clench of your pussy walls.
He wouldn't stop until you were at the verge of your orgasm. He would pull away, smirking at your sobs. He tugged his pants down, slapping his cock against your pussy that has you shaking your head again while you plead and plead for more. Such a dilemma.
"I know you're on birth control." He slid his cock. Inch by inch. He gripped down your thighs, his heart pounding at the sight of your pussy greedily takjng him in. The fucking suction you're creating like you didn't want him to escape. "You should stop taking them."
"I won't," you grit.
"Shame," he groaned into your neck. He fucked you hard. No fucking mercy. Giving you the feel of the pleasure you kept chasing months ago before he started tormenting you. Chasing his own orgasm. "I could've given you everything tonight."
He licked and bit your neck, leaving bruising marks. Not cute hickeys. Full on marking you. Harshly. Possesively. He was making you feel everything he could give you with every thrust and every bite.
When he could feel your pussy clenching so hard, he pulled out, jerking himself off. He tried to swallow down the manic laughter bubbling up his throat, but he couldn't because you were just so desperate to come. He wouldn't let you after you rejected his order.
"Does it hurt not being able to come, my Love?" He asked, groaning as he pushed up your nightgown, spilling his seed on your stomach, on your tits. For every spurt, he listened to your sobs. "Next time, baby. I promise."
He kissed your lips, letting you bite down on his lip until you broke his skin. He just kissed you through it, making you taste what you've done.
He parted from you even he didn't want to. He fixed himself as he watched you rub your thighs together. He replaced the camera in your nightstand. He listened to the words lashing out from your beautiful kiss-plumped lips. Empty threats, full of fucking desperation. Oh, you were so full of shit.
He stepped out the fire escape, watching you thrash. "It's a square knot. You can undo it, clever girl."
With that he could easily see working yourself out of the rope, clumsily and shakily.
"Next time, when you're off birth control, I could consider making you come."
He was gone before you could get yourself untied.
Good night, lovelies. I hope you enjoyed that. 🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️ (cat detail is kinda inspired by Lights Out, but i didn't finish that book from months ago...i dont remember if the cat was feral...)
-> more thoughts? Dark List.
-> Want to be notified? Join my taglist!
-> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜
-> Want to leave a tip? You can through my Writing Jar (ko-fi)! 💜
Lovely, hey there. So. Um.. dark!quinn...just a lil thot, okay? 😶🌫️🫣 First, lil confession, I wanna be claimed just like that y'know. Yes, I am a whore. Anyway...this is more of a ramble. My head is a mess. Also...don't ask if it's gotten too long. This did not happen. Don't come for me. This is truly dark. You've been warned.
Under his Control
Relationship: dark bf!Q x F!Reader
TW/CW: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Dark, Manipulation, Deranged + Controlling behavior, Non-con, Somnophilia (not communicated kinks; make sure if you wanna do this, communicate what you wanted to explore and do with your partner!!), Drugging (sleeping supplements and pills) 🚩
Disclaimer | Inbox Rules | Dark Masterlist | Taglist
You were always a heavy sleeper. Sure, you had trouble sleeping, but once you were out, you were out. Quinn knew that. He would be a bad boyfriend if he didn't.
Afterall, he was the one who always woke up first for his early practice, the one who tried to pry your vice-like grip every time, the one who tried banging the cabinets during the morning to make sure, to constantly test your sleep. The one who touched your pussy through your panties until your arousal slicked it, until soft moans escaped your lips.
Then came the problem. You would rouse, stirring then slowly wake up, before he could make you come, before he could further his debauchery. Fucking always.
You would be so confused, too sleep-drunk, too innocent that you would just assume Quinn's cuddling you.
Even for so long, you never put two and two together. Not a clue with his touches. With his lack of care that he never asked for your consent through these acts. Well, why would he need such a thing when he owned you? Every single fiber of your being was his.
Your body that could no longer reach the heights of an orgasm without his touch. The number of times you came running towards him with tears of frustration in your eyes because no matter what you do—no matter what toy or technique—you couldn't come. The number of times you called him whining while he was on a road trip because you got so horny, yet you couldn't do a single fucking thing to help yourself.
Your mind that couldn't choose anything for yourself. Always seeking his opinion. Before, you would just go out with your friends whenever you like. Now, you preferred staying home just because Quinn planted seeds of doubt about your friends not being good for you, about them only using you because of how sweet you were, which were all not false. They were using you to get to him. You were so naive to see through their elaborate trap, so Quinn easily manipulated the circumstances that you had to break off the friendships. You didn't need them anyway. Not when you have him.
Not all of your friends were using you though. Some were good. Too good, too fucking nosy, trying to get you to see how twisted he was. Quinn couldn't have that, so he got rid of them too. Threats. Blackmail. He did it all, making you think they just dropped you, which made you more needy for his company.
Your soul that sang with his. So bright and innocent when you stared at hum like he hung the moon. So adorable when he fucked you so hard that he left you sore for days with bruises painting your neck, your hips, your thighs, and everywhere else. Still, you looked at him with heart-shaped eyes.
You'd been such a perfect girl to love, fuck, and manipulate. So perfect, really. Except you kept waking up when it was about to be more interesting. When he was about to consume you in a different fucking level. When all he wanted was for you to come around him while you were still in dream-fucking-land. Was that too much of an ask?
So, Quinn moved.
He took his time researching things that would keep you asleep. He acted like a damned insomniac, going to a shrink and telling him he needed something to help him sleep, expertly twisting the truth, emphasizing he needed something to get him to sleep throughout the night. It was so easy. One trip to the pharmacy, he got his prescription along with bottles of melatonin and magnesium.
Getting you to drink the supplements was simple. Your eyes were twinkling as you take it as him being concerned with you. You happily take them. No questions. Not a single doubt or concern. You just take and take. Everything he gave you.
Quinn was always patient. Always bidding his time. He won't use his supposed prescription yet. Touching and testing if the supplements were enough. They were not. Therefore, he used them, telling you he saw a better additional supplement.
He waited and waited for your protest, even a question on what the fuck it is because one would normally ask, but alas, you said:
"Okay."
Then you grinned at him with such innocence that Quinn wondered how on earth did you survived this cruel world. No matter. He was here to keep you safe from anything else but him. He loved the pureness you offer. So pure that he must corrupt.
He watched. Within minutes, you were out like a light. Your body was in a supine position under the blankets, your chest moving with your every breath. Like a princess. His very own sleeping beauty.
One tug, the sheets were off. He could see the goosebumps on your skin, your nipples hardening under your silk night gown. He ran his hands over your thighs, spreading them, pushing the fabric up and up and up, exposing your lace panties. Slowly, he touches your clothed pussy, feeling along your folds, teasing your clit down to your entrance and back up.
Soft. You were so soft and getting so drenched. The need to smell you overtook him, not giving a shit anymore if the drug would actually keep you asleep. He just hooked one thigh over his shoulder, pressing his nose on your pussy and smelled your feminine musk. So divine as he started to lick over the lace.
Just one taste and he lost it. Like a feral beast who had not eaten for days, he licked and sucked and nipped, almost laughing as he heard your little whines, preening at how your hips jerked so slightly. Then he stared right at your face, waiting for you to wake but you didn't. Fuck yes.
He could barely think straight anymore. He tore your panties, slapping his cock against your quivering pussy, rubbing himself on you until he was coated by your arousal as his pre-cum dripped down his length. The way your thighs twitched, your eyebrows frowning, your barely there 'hmmm'. Everything etched in his brain. As he slowly sank his cock into your pulsing heat.
He fucked you slowly. Every thrust was full and deep. Your tits moved, bouncing, luring him in for a taste, so he indulged. Using his teeth to tug the neckline of your nightgown then he sucked your pebbled peak. One by one. he could feel your walls spasming for a mini orgasm. So adorable.
Your troubled moans filled his brain. He could basically feel your body trying to wake up, could feel the dream your mind was showing you. He was also fucking you in your dream, wasn't he? How hard was he going? Were the pathetic sounds coming out of you supposed to be your pleas to fuck you harder?
He supposed they were. What else could they be? You were always such a slut. It must be maddening for you not to get what you wanted.
"I know, my love. I know," he whispered in your ear, groaning when your pussy squeezed so tight around him that he almost came. "Let's take our time, okay? Fuck. We got the whole night."
It didn't matter to Quinn if he had to wake up for a morning skate. He would take his fucking time. He was already so fucking confident that his team would win. They always seemed to win whenever he touched you during your sleep. Now that he was fucking you, maybe it could be an easy victory. Fuck, he hoped it would be. Even if they lose, there was no way he wouldn't do this again.
Languidly, he rolled his hips as his hands gripped your hips wider, opening you up.
Then he started to get rougher. His hips bucking into you to claim you brutally. He wanted you to be so confused about why you're so sore in the morning, wanted you to feel so horrified about the new kiss marks he was leaving all over your chest, your collarbone, your neck. He wanted to see you panic when you see the handprint bruises on your thighs.
Those images of you all rattled and horrified filled his mind. He couldn't stop smiling as he pressed down your lower abdomen, his thumb softly rubbing circles around your clit until you come so hard, your lips parting, yet you didn't wake up. He kept whispering praises into your ear, chuckling at the little sniffles coming out of you because he wouldn't stop his thrusts, wouldn't stop playing with your sensitive clit.
"Give me another one, my Love. Just one. Then we'll stop," he teased into your lips, kissing you without care even if you didn't kiss back. It was exactly how he wanted. Just you in the palm of his hands. Just you being fucked by him because he could. Just like his very own sex toy. "I promise."
He lied and lied and lied.
He wouldn't stop.
Why would he?
He could only grip your skin, short nails digging into your tender flesh. When you came again, he did too, spurting deep into your pussy, kissing and licking your neck, praising you over and over again. He took his time to recover. Then he would do it again and again. The same fucking lie would escape his lips.
His sweat would drip down your sweaty body. His cum would be pooling under your ass. Your pussy would be red and raw from overuse. Your skin would be marked by bruises already darkening, reddening. He would be so greedy at the sight of you not waking up. Totally under his mercy. The night wouldn't be over, yet he was already planning the next time to do this.
He tried to stop at least. He was getting too exhausted after a couple of hours of partaking you. Hell, he almost fainted after he came so hard, but he couldn't. He needed more and more. He could only turn you both sideways, lazily fucking into you. His cum would already become too watery, too diluted, too spent.
He would only stop when he could no longer give you anything. Still, he couldn't be satiated. He would crawl down your body to start cleaning you with his tongue. Tasting the mix of your cum and his. Smelling what he has done. It was all so divine.
He did his best with the clean-up. He replaced your nightgown and panties, wiped away the sweat. Even managed to change the fucking sheets with his shaky legs.
After tucking you in with his arms around you, he passed out. Only to wake up the next fucking hour. It was time to fucking work.
Work he did, grinning and laughing to himself when you called midday, sobbing because your body fucking ached.
Sorry. This is nothing but a figment of your imagination, i fear. I didn't write this. The parasites in my head did. They were having a protest because I was reading an extremely wholesome romance fantasy book. They needed something dark so they took over my keyboard. 🤧😔
-> more thoughts? Dark List.
-> Want to be notified? Join my taglist!
-> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜
-> Want to leave a tip? You can through my Writing Jar (ko-fi)! 💜
Umm...hello, lovely. 😃😫 I am so getting distracted coz you hit me with this??? Anyway... Don't come for me. Read the warning please.
Insignificant Noise
Relationship: Stalker!Q x F!Reader
TW/CW: 18+, MDNI, Smut, Dark, Extreme Stalking / Stalker!Q, Masturbation (f and m), Non-consensual Voyeurism (installation of video and audio devices, watching and recording), Non-consensual touches, Deranged behavior
Disclaimer | Inbox Rules | Dark Masterlist | Taglist
Quinn would be livid when he discovered your boyfriend. The anger that he felt rise and rise, soaring the more he read the file he received from the private investigator that he hired to look into you and fired because the fucker tried to take pictures of you. That wasn't allowed. The fucker overstepped, tried to do beyond what he was paid for. Only Quinn was allowed to take photos of you.
Back to the "boyfriend", this fucker was not significant. Just a dude you started seeing two months ago. Such an insignificant length of time. A dilemma that angered him, yes. But it’s not a dilemma to lose sleep over. Easy to manage. Still, a fucking dilemma that he would need to remedy soon.
It wouldn't be a hard problem to fix.
Although it would irk Quinn so much that he missed that fucker's existence. How you managed to hide this fact from Quinn was a mystery he would like solved. He was simply curious. Anyway, to get rid of the guy, calls would be made. Threats would need to be said.
While he planned, he would get distracted by video footage of you from the cameras he has installed in your room--not to be confused with the several others he had successfully his in your apartment during his maintenance days.
Whether you were working or lazing around. You distracted him. Especially when you would fuck yourself with a bright pink dildo. What a perfect color for his girl. Sometimes you change it up for a different shape or size or color, but this pink one seemed to be your favorite. Well, it would also be Quinn's favorite. Like how your favorite food, color, movie, music, hobbies were already committed to his memory that it would also be his favorite. You have already significantly altered him, and he loved that.
The way your hips rolled as you rode the dildo would be so alluring. Always making his blood rush down his cock. He would try to hold back, only wanting to come on and in your pussy whenever he visits you, but he would fail. Again, and again. He would fuck his fist so hard with only his spit as lubrication as if he was punishing himself for masturbating without you in the same room.
He would get off to your moans and groans because he also installed and synched audio recorders everywhere. He properly bugged your apartment. He needs to. The what ifs had drowned his mind mad. He needed to make sure that you were always safe. You were his after all.
He would only let himself come when you finished, screaming so loudly. A grin would stretch on his face, pupils dilating so widely that it almost swallowed his irises despite the harsh glare of his monitor's brightness in his dim room, then he would let out a chuckle that would turn into a laugh.
Why? Because you had never once called out your boyfriend's name. Never. Such a good girl.
Then he would watch you sleep, not bothering to change into a different pajama or night gown, then he would move, also not bothering to wipe the cum on his shirt or his hand, not bothering with changing into new pants.
He would go to your apartment. In less than a minute, he would be looming over you, because you were his neighbor. His only neighbor because he already bought out every single apartment on this floor. Even your apartment—that you'd been trying to buy—was his. He loved having you on his property. You were his property.
That was why that boyfriend of yours needs to go. Quinn would get rid of him. It won't take long now. He doubted you would miss him because did you even love him? When you're always masturbating? Always home and barely texting the guy? Yeah, Quinn didn't think so.
While he gazed at you, he wouldn't resist the urge climbing the bed, settling between your thighs, smirking at how deeply you always sleep after a good orgasm.
Sometimes he would finger fuck you. Sometimes he would jack off over you. Sometimes he would use your pussy, rubbing over your slick folds or just fucking you languidly, making you come in your slumber, making a mess with his cum. Sometimes. Most of the time, he would only watch your arousal and cum drip from your pussy, murmuring, "I love you, my Love."
Good night. 🏃♀️
-> more thoughts? Dark List.
-> Want to be notified? Join my taglist!
-> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜
-> Want to leave a tip? You can through my Writing Jar (ko-fi)! 💜
I’ve hit you over the head with the breeding kink bat today, but I’m coming back around.
Quinn would be such a feral little fuck about it. He’d taunt you with everything he was doing. Wouldn’t be hiding from the fact that he’s trying to baby trap you. Making a big deal about how you’re stuck there. How much cum he’s fucking into you.
He’d tell you exactly where you are in your cycle. How he’s been counting, tracking. How long he’s been wanting to have you restrained under him.
All his to breed-
I might uh, be a bit off my head today
🚩dark content🚩
Hello, 911 ☎️ I would like to report a murder. Yes, it's this one. I saw her hit someone with a bat. She also just came back to hit that someone AGAIN. I just saw it. Oh, yes, didn't say that? It is I who got murdered. I am merely a ghost now, I fear. 👻 I must avenge myself. 🫠🤧
Sealing Your Fate
Relationship: dark bf!Q x F!Reader
TW/CW: 18+, MDNI, Smut, Dark, Baby-trapping / Extreme breeding Kink (use protection, lovelies. do not let anyone baby-trap you when you're not ready), Dub-con, Overstimulation and mention of future use of restraints.
Disclaimer | Inbox Rules | Dark Masterlist | Taglist
Quinn could only chuckle about how easily he got you used to submitting to him and being tied up, how easily he got you used to the stretch of your thighs being spread so widely and raised up until you were almost folded in half, how easily he made you lose yourself as he fucked into you harder. He would fuck you dumb, propping your hips with two pillows until you were gushing around him. So fucking clueless on what would happen next.
He already played long game of earning every bit of your trust. For every week, he fucked you with condoms after you told him you had to get off of your birth control. Every week that he had to pretend that he was still sane while he took notes when your cycle start, when it ended, when you were ovulating. Oh, it fucking irked him how much cum he wasted, how much time have passed because you still had the freedom to leave him.
He couldn't have that.
You were not allowed to fucking leave at any point in the present or future.
While Quinn was harshly fucking your pussy, his fingers digging into the back of your thighs, he would stare at you as your thighs shook, as your body arched from the bed, as his sweat dripped over your skin and mixing with yours, as your lips begged him for a break. He would always give you a break, but not now.
However, he would pull away, grinning at how you sag, your eyes showing both relief and betrayal, because he knew exactly how close you were. So fucking greedy when you already came exactly six times when he hasn't.
That was when he would slap your pussy with his cock, making you gasp and writhe, making you recoil at the sight of the broken condom.
"Quinn, you need to change--"
He would cut you off with a darker laugh, leaning back and sitting on his ankles as he combed back his hair, staring at you with a manic look in his eyes.
He was gone.
"Now, why would I do that?" He asked. "Why would I waste my cum when you're a couple of days away from ovulating? You're so fertile now, so I will fuck you until it takes, my Love."
He tore off the pathetic remains of latex, sinking his tip into your pussy, chuckling at how you were sucking him in. So fucking greedy. All while you still tried to move back, to escape.
Not like you were going anywhere. Not when you were tied to the bedframe that was bolted into the floor. There was nowhere to go for you.
He would be absolutely feral with his harsh thrusts, his heart pounding at every plea and every tear, because he felt exactly how much you clenched around him like you didn't want him to slip out. He wouldn't.
He would slap his palm over your thighs, over your sensitive clit, until you were coming and making a mess then he would slam into you, spurting his hot cum so deeply that you were looking at him with both fear and awe.
He knew it. You wanted his baby as much as he does. You just needed to face the inevitability of it happening soon.
Not letting himself get soft, he would languidly thrust into your pussy, gritting at how his cum dripped around him. Angry at the continued waste but he still has more to give you, so whatever. He hissed when your hips pathetically and successfully meeting his thrust.
That set him off to another frenzy, ignoring his own sensitivity. Ignoring your fresh set of tears. Ignoring the dark spots dancing on his vision.
Quinn had plans. He already got a chain that would be long enough for you to get to the restroom, an ankle shackle that was lined with soft cotton and fur that you wouldn't get any friction burns, oils to soothe your aches when he actually needed to rest. It would be just for this week. He would be more vanilla after. He would try, at least.
Right now, he wouldn't stop.
He would fuck you until your pussy was too full that you would be dripping cum for hours or days. Until your pussy was red and raw and so utterly fucked. Until you finally reached the exact day of your ovulation. Until the next fucking day because he would not lose any fucking chance of you getting pregnant.
Because he needed you to stay with him. Forever.
In his mind, his and your baby would seal your fate with him.
Your Honor, I didn't do anything. I swear! I am the one who got killed. Two hits to my head! Oops. Good night.
-> more thoughts? Dark List.
-> Want to be notified? Join my taglist!
-> Got a dark requests? Send an ask in this account! For other blurbs, you may come to my main! 💜💜💜💜
-> Want to leave a tip? You can through my Writing Jar (ko-fi)! 💜
Hi, lovelies. I appreciate you all for reading my little fics from sweet to dark and something in between. I love hearing your feedbacks through your comments, reblogs, and DMs. I love hearing from you. 💙
I am simply opening this little writing jar if (and only if) you want to show support in another way AKA through tips. This doesn't change the fact that I will write to my best abilities as I have before.
You can leave a tip through my ko-fi.
Please don't ever be obligated to spare some coins for this. This is simply here. 💙
[PS. I am also kind of thinking about opening commissions, but not sure yet]
