#And they usually involve stepping stone talking

[superchat]

Havent even gotten my first paycheck yet and this job is making me feel dead

[mattnott]

𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in which you and mattheo were constantly at each other's throats, and this time was no different. WORDS. +6.1K, english is not my first language.

WARNINGS. ‘whipped’ mattheo (he’s obsessed), porn w// plot, reader and mattheo are both 18, making out, smoking , alcohol (mentions), hair pulling, oral sex!f receiving, marking, face sitting, nipple sucking, biting, dirty talk, blood kink.

The loud music spread through the dungeon corridors, pulsing like a frantic heartbeat and bouncing off the stone walls of the grand common room of the serpent house. It caught the attention of passersby, drawing curious glances, as if the noise were an invitation to peek in and see what was happening—or to get involved in whatever was going on behind the closed door.

Inside the crowded room, dark green lights pulsed to the beat of the music, almost as if they were dancing along. They lit up the faces of students who looked like they’d already had a bit too much to drink, escaping from their dorms in search of some much-needed fun after a long and draining semester.

In the shadows at the back of the loud room, Mattheo stayed leaned against the cold wall, with a cigarette dangling from his fingers with an enviable ease. His expression appeared relaxed, yet the messy curls still damp from the shower after a brutal Quidditch practice told a different story about his calm demeanor.

Though he would never admit just how tough the practice had been.

Beside him, Enzo and Theodore were bickering as usual, this time over the recent Potions exam that had been harder than they expected, making their voices louder. Yet their discussion faded into the background of Mattheo’s mind, barely registering in his ears, and he was certain they didn’t even notice his indifferent demeanor towards the childish conversation. His gaze drifted across the room, almost desperate to find something—or someone—to shatter the monotony that had settled over his life in the past few days.

From his spot, he could see drunk students nearly collapsing to the floor—acting like animals, he could swear—others laughing loudly, moving their bodies to the beat of the music, too entertained to notice anything else around them, and couples craving each other’s touch as if they didn’t care about their surroundings. Yet his gaze remained devoid of emotion; nothing stood out—nothing that could break the heavy boredom clinging to him like a second skin.

Taking another look around the room, Mattheo couldn’t help but scoff at his ridiculous state. He felt almost pathetic, surrounded by the chaos he usually appreciated, yet weary of being caught in the middle of it. Everything felt so common and dull that he figured the only adrenaline he might get would come from being lucky enough to vomit the alcohol swirling in his system. He chuckled dryly at the thought, taking a slow drag from his cigarette and letting the smoke curl lazily around his lips before releasing it into the air, watching it dissipate in the dim light around him.

Somehow, that was far more interesting than the party itself.

He leaned back against the wall, a small, irritated sigh escaping his lips as the weight of boredom settled heavily on his shoulders like a coat. His eyes landed on Berkshire and Nott, still bickering with each other—this time about Quidditch—their voices growing sharper by the second. Once again, his attention drifted away, their words fading into a dull roar in the background as he tuned out completely.

His eyes scanned the room once more, this time more attentively. Just as he was about to release one of the last tendrils of smoke from his cigarette, his gaze locked onto the door swinging open again, revealing a sight he hadn't expected at all—you. Stepping out from the shadows of the entrance, you looked around with a blend of curiosity and caution. In that instant, he could swear that everything around him seemed to slow—the music faded, the crowd blurred, as if the entire room were paying reverence to your presence.

Mattheo shook his head quickly, cringing at what his mind—and maybe even his heart—wanted to say. Curiosity sparked in his gaze as he looked up, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers, completely caught up in your presence. You definitely weren’t the type for gatherings like this; “party material” was the last thing he’d call you—quite the opposite. Yet there you were, looking as out of place as you were striking, like a prey wandering into 'enemy' territory. A playful smirk appeared on his face as the boredom began to lift from his shoulders.

There it was—the distraction he needed to keep him on his feet.

His smirk deepened as he watched you weave through the crowded party, letting his gaze drop to your thighs for a moment longer than he should. If anyone had been watching, they might have thought Mattheo’s gaze darkened with something far from innocent, and in fact it did. Glancing back at his friends, he checked for any sign they’d noticed his interest in you—but luckily, they were still too absorbed in their heated discussion, now with Blaise joining in. A glimmer of relief crept over him.

As you moved carefully through the crowd, he pushed himself off the wall, almost instinctively flicking the last embers from his cigarette before tossing it aside without a second thought and striding toward the crowd. His gaze never wavered, following you with an unbothered intensity, watching you like a hawk. He stopped in the middle of the room, surrounded by the drunken bodies, waiting for the moment you’d feel his eyes on you—only then would he make a move. 

Maybe this was just another game for him, but if he was being honest, he didn’t care. He thrived on getting under your skin, relishing the power to rip apart the perfect image you projected to everyone. You were too polite, too nice, too good—yet with him, you turned cruel, acidic, and downright mean. He loved it. The fact that he could be the one to destroy you and expose the flaws beneath that polished exterior was intoxicating.

Loving your good side was easy, but he was the only one who craved your darker nature, despising your sweetness with a intensity that almost consumed his soul. 

It was no surprise to anyone that you and Mattheo were always at each other’s throats. Since your first year at school, every interaction was filled with cold words and insults, your clashing personalities entertaining everyone around you.

But only Mattheo knew the truth: you were almost a reflection of his own twisted nature, and every stolen kiss only deepened his conviction. Maybe that was why his relentless, penetrating gaze tracked your every move, waiting for the faintest flicker of recognition, longing for the moment you'd finally break and turn to him.

As you continued moving through the room, a familiar shiver ran up your spine, and you gripped your wrists tightly, muttering under your breath—you knew exactly whose gaze was piercing enough to unsettle you like this. Riddle. Turning around, your eyes locked onto his, and when he noticed the angry look on your face, his cruel smirk widened, as if your discomfort amused him. He gave you a mocking wave; his gaze remained fixed on you, heavy and almost suffocating, daring you to get closer to him to show just how much he could get under your skin.

For a moment, you felt trapped by his intensity, the chaos around you fading into the background as his gaze bore into you like teeth. But when you noticed the way he lifted his eyebrows in mockery, you quickly regained your composure, ignoring the heat rising to your cheeks.

Looking away, you steeled yourself, refusing to fall for his game like you always did.

But unlucky—or lucky—for you, Mattheo noticed your reaction, and your defiance only seemed to excite him more. He moved toward you slowly, each step amplifying your discomfort, and when he finally loomed close enough, the air thickened between you, heavy with a fervor capable enough to put you down. It was an overwhelming feeling that made your heart race like crazy, and you could see he was enjoying the way you would react to him.

“Lost, are we?” he asked not really waiting for a response, his gaze fixed on you with a knowing predatory glare that sent a shiver down your spine. His low voice dripped with mockery, and despite your desperate attempt to remain composed, every part of you wanted to break before him. Your heart raced wildly, and you wondered if you were on the edge of a heart attack.

You narrowed your eyebrows, your eyes filled with a hint of disgust as you finally faced Mattheo completely. His smirk only grew wider, but you raised your chin with every ounce of defiance you could muster in that moment. “Lost? Hardly,” you replied sharply, your gaze assessing him with disgust.

As you continued to stare at him, a memory of his clumsy fumbling during Quidditch practice flashed in your mind, causing a disdainful chuckle to escape your lips. You could see the way that mockery threw him, noticing that he was likely the cause behind that nearly insufferable mockery.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” He spat through clenched teeth, his anger barely contained, which only made your grin widen and his scowl deepen. He should have been the one to rile you up, not the other way around.

“Nothing much,” you hum, the false sweetness dripping from your words. He glared at you, clearly itching to hurl an insult, but he held back, aware that you were just getting started. “Just about how you humiliated yourself tripping over your massive ego during today’s practice,” you said, savoring the way his expression soured. “Honestly, it was the highlight of my day.” You teased.

Mattheo’s expression darkened as he let out a dry chuckle, forcing himself to meet your gaze. How he wished you weren’t so beautiful; he hated the way your presence twisted in his gut, making him crave what he knew he shouldn’t. Yet there you were, effortlessly making him feel less of the person he was.

Your beauty almost consuming his whole.

“Maybe if you spent less time criticizing me and more time focusing on yourself...” he began, his voice dripping with bitterness yet with mocking amusement, making you frown. “You wouldn’t be so fucking bitter.” He shot back, taking an unconscious step closer, invading more your space. The fever radiating from his body was almost intoxicating, and you fought the urge to step back.

Swallowing hard, you raised your chin even more, your eyes locking onto his almost hypnotic brown orbs. You couldn’t deny the idiot was handsome, and it was obvious that he was aware of his own beauty, appreciating the effect it had on you as he used it to overpower you, pushing the boundaries of your composure. 

“Bitter?” You forced a laugh, attempting to sound unaffected by his words, even though the truth was that Mattheo’s proximity was rattling you to your core. “I just enjoy your suffering. Watching you nearly fall from your broom was... truly entertaining.” You grinned, convinced you’d won the argument, but when his smirk returned, you realized you were the one being toyed with.

“Oh, really?” he began, a smug grin spreading across his face as he caught sight of your flustered expression. “So, not only were you watching my practice, but you were watching me, too.” He drawled, clearly savoring every moment as he enjoyed your discomfort. “Couldn’t resist, could you?” he taunted, blinking slowly in mockery, fully aware of the pull he had over you.

The boredom was definitely gone at this point.

Unlike Mattheo, you blinked rapidly, his words almost suffocating your brain, heat flooding your cheeks as you realized how easily you had exposed yourself. It was infuriating how much he observed the information you unwittingly gave him, and the more he had, the more he used it to make you nervous.

“As if I’d waste my time watching your stupid ass flounder around on a broom like a fucking idiot.” You scoffed, refusing to let your guard down, even if the proof of the embarrassment burned on your cheeks. “You’re not that interesting, Riddle.” You shot back with venom, but his smirk only widened, augmenting your irritation.

You were getting mad, and he loved it. Watching you unravel gave him satisfaction, you were finally losing your composure, almost revealing the side he was eager to see again.

“I’m not that interesting?” Mattheo drawled mockingly, his lips twisting into a fake pout that almost made you cringe. “Yet here you are, practically begging for my attention. Quite the contradiction, isn’t it?” He hummed, amused.

He was infuriating.

You looked at him, almost incredulous, torn between his audacity and his stupidity. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you hissed, but he remained unfazed, clearly enjoying the negative attention you were throwing at him. “You’re the one who came to ‘talk’ to me, so get a grip,” you shot back, and for a brief moment, his smile almost faltered.

Mattheo’s gaze dragged over you slowly, every detail taken in with a lazy, shameless boldness that refused to let you feel any sense of power. The smirk was back, curling at the edge of his mouth as though your insult had already slipped his mind. With another step forward, he closed the space between you, close enough for you to catch the sharp edge of his cologne mixed with the lingering scent of the cigarette he was smoking before.

“You talk big for someone who’s practically shaking in my presence,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerously soft, each word daring you to react. “Maybe you should get a grip, princess.” You nearly cringed at the nickname, but his words hit, and though you’d never admit it, a part of you knew he wasn’t entirely wrong.

Mattheo's presence was suffocating, so suffocating; each step he took left you feeling like a part of your logic had slipped away. You hated it, you hated how each encounter left you feeling a part of yourself was missing. Yet, no matter how many times this twisted game played out, you found yourself drawn back, absorbed by the chaos he ignited in you.

But you weren’t the only one unraveling—Mattheo was drowning too, trapped in the same game, and the only thing that changed was the reason behind it.

If your chin wasn't raised enough, you would have lifted it one more time, but unfortunately, you couldn't; instead, you had to cling to the last shred of self-respect you had. “Shaking?” you scoffed, your voice dripping with sarcasm, though he could easily detect the tremor beneath it. “Trust me, if my body's shaking, it's only because I'm holding myself back from shoving you off this wall and breaking your damn nose.” You hissed, taking another step closer to him, forcing him to suppress a satisfied sigh at your defiance.

Yet Mattheo didn’t hold back his smirk; it only widened further, with a subtle glint of satisfaction appearing in his eyes. If you had the courage to look closer, you might have noticed it. But his proximity left you oblivious to anything else—your attention was fixed only on how close his body was to yours, how his face lingered near yours without closing the distance.

It was torture.

“Is that right?” he asked, taunt dripping from his tone as his eyebrow arched, his gaze bearing down on you. Maybe he wanted you to feel less of yourself, or maybe he was just savoring the way your body reacted to him—either way, his eyes held a single intent: make you feel small. “For someone so eager to break my nose, you seem to love getting close enough to do it,” he taunted.

Your stomach twisted; he wasn’t just hungry for your skin—he was tearing at it, and you couldn’t help but feel infuriated. You hated being played with, especially by him. But Mattheo? He was enjoying this moment, enjoying how you kept his boredom at bay.

The way you were practically forced to look at him, how his body towered over you, and how you constantly challenged him—it thrilled him. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the hotness radiating off his body. It was maddening how he turned every interaction into a twisted game, and worse, how you always fell for it.

He was the only one who could ruin your good image, and you hated it. You hated that you found it exciting, and you despised how he made you crave these sick competitions for power more and more. You wanted to hurt him so badly that it almost burned your insides.

“I just want a clear shot,” you hissed, clutching what little dignity you had left. But Mattheo didn’t seem affected at all; in fact, he was just waiting for the chance to turn the tables once more. “So don’t flatter yourself, idiot.” He lowered his head slightly, challenging you, it seemed.

Mattheo chuckled dryly, and you felt his breath even closer to your face than before. “Funny, I don’t see you making a move,” he remarked, his gaze fixed on your clenched fists, satisfaction evident as he noticed how tightly you were gripping them. “Maybe you’re not as angry as you want me to think,” he whispered provocatively, his tongue sliding over his own lips as he did so.

You wanted to punch him; you wanted to see him lose so badly, and he could see it. He could see your facade falling, and he was eager to expose your darker side—the side that could put him in his place with just a word. He just needed one more push, one more slip, and he knew he could get it out of you.

He was almost there. Almost.

You closed your eyes for a moment, desperately trying to ignore the rapid beat of your heart, feeling as if you were teetering on the edge of a heart attack. Still, you managed to respond. “Or maybe I’m just debating which would be more satisfying—breaking your nose or shattering your ego.” You practically spat the words, logic having abandoned your body two minutes ago. You felt heavy, so heavy.

You just didn’t know that Mattheo’s heart was beating in sync with yours. Apreciating your unlogical comportment and the way his mind was getting a bit of logic because of you, because he knew, he knew that he wanted you, he knew that he needed to break you. He knew he could put him on lines, but him? He took pleasure in keeping you off balance, and he knew that you both craved the same thing; you just lacked the guts to admit it.

Unlucky for you, he was more than ready to push you to do it.

Mattheo lowered his head until his lips were barely a whisper away from yours, his breath warm and steady against your skin. For a fleeting second, you were almost thankful for the boldness that kept your chin raised. “Go on, try,” he murmured, his voice a dare that left your legs feeling dangerously uneven. “You’re welcome to try either.”

A flash of hesitation crossed your mind, but his gaze trapped you, daring you to make a move. The air between you felt stifling, the noise around you melting away under the weight of his words, and the tension sparkling between both of you. Your pulse pounded as his face lingered close to yours, his mouth barely an inch away, eyes flickering to your lips—close enough to make every nerve burn.

You could feel control slipping right through your fingers.

“What’s the matter?” He whispered, his voice low, rough with mockery, that insufferable smirk deepening in a way that practically begged you to knock it off his face. “Losing your nerve?”

And then you lost it—you lost it completely.

You didn’t answer him with words. Instead, your hands shot up to his neck, and you crashed your lips against his, pouring all your anger and frustration into the kiss. It was fierce, almost desperate, and somehow, it felt painfully right. Mattheo responded instantly, not even a little surprised, just the dark satisfaction of someone who’d been waiting for this.

He chuckled against your mouth, triumphant; you were exactly where he’d wanted you all along.

You could feel the way Mattheo's grip tightened, pulling you flush against him, his chest pressing into yours as the kiss deepened into something raw and almost primal. His hand held you firmly in place, no room to pull away, letting your tongue clash with his in a battle for dominance neither of you wanted to lose. It was pure hunger, teeth and tongues colliding, each of you refusing to back down.

Your bodies pressed together, as if you and him were desperate to merge into one, the intensity between you both fueling an insatiable hunger. It wasn't enough—nothing could satisfy the craving consuming both of you. You needed more, and so did he. Without a second thought, you sank your teeth into his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste flooded both of your mouths, sending a primal thrill through you both that made you gasp and moan with the flavor.

It was maddening.

Maybe that's why Mattheo craved kissing you and touching you—because it felt like suffocation, like drowning as your tongue slipped into his mouth, stealing the very air from his lungs. And he needed it more than he cared to admit. Mattheo loved how you made him lose and gain control at the same time, how you made him forget himself completely.

His life could be boring, even wild most of the times, but nothing made him feel more alive than when you were tearing him apart, lips and bodies pressed together, suffocating him with your poison in a way he could never resist—as if he were addicted to the pain of being ruined by you.

Mattheo couldn't take it anymore and kissed you again as the first one broke, his body pressing even harder against yours, your hips grinding against him, making him groan into your mouth.

The blood from the first bite only intensified his need for you, pushing him to the edge where he had to sink his teeth into your lower lip as well, taking another moan from you. He longed for the metallic tang lingering on your lips, desperate to mix with his as your tongues clashed again and again with an intensity that left both of you eager for more.

You wanted more; he needed to give him more.

You and Mattheo seemed oblivious to the fact that you were still at the party, too consumed by each other's lips and bodies to notice the pounding music or the crowded room around you, and compared to anyone else here, the two of you were on another level. After a few moments, Mattheo broke the kiss, lowering his mouth to your neck, biting and sucking at your skin with such hunger that you couldn't be sure who was enjoying it more.

“You smell so good, so damn good,” he whispered like a prayer against your skin, his tongue tracing over the mark he'd just left, almost like he was savoring it. His words jolted you, snapping you back to your senses as you glanced around, suddenly aware that you weren't alone. Reluctantly, you pushed his head back, biting back a groan as you felt the ache of stopping.

“Why did you push me?” Mattheo asked, his lips swollen and tempting like yours, and unlike you, he couldn't suppress the groan that escaped at the loss of contact. His hungry gaze locked onto yours. "Do you want to stop?" he asked, clearly waiting for you to say no.

“Not here.” You managed to say. “Let’s go to somewhere private.” You said quickly, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

Mattheo’s smirk widened with those words, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes as he seized your hand without warning, dragging you toward the dorms. You let out a soft, surprised whimper, but he didn’t pause, continuing walking and ignoring the stunned—and amused—looks from his friends. He barely glanced back, his grip firm and unyielding, as if nothing in the room mattered except getting you alone.

Neither of you noticed the dim hallways as you hurried along, too consumed by the need to be alone together. Neither of you registered when the music faded into the background or when his door creaked open and shut behind you. And neither of you realized when the clothes that once covered your bodies ended up scattered across the floor, tangled together just like the two of you.

You were both too lost in ecstasy.

Mattheo's hands roamed over your body, exploring every inch with excitement that was visible from miles away. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, leaving marks with each squeeze, and if you didn't know him, you might've thought it was unintentional. But the smirk pressed against your skin proved he knew exactly what he was doing—a knowledge that made you moan, and made him grip your ass even harder.

“I could bite you for hours, taste you for hours,” he purred against your skin, his nose brushing against you with a softness that contrasted sharply with his mouth, which was focused on marking your neck fiercely.

His teeth sank into your flesh, drawing blood as he savored the metallic taste, and each lick sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, blurring the lines between pain and ecstasy. “Your skin is so damn soft,” he murmured, the obsession in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Mattheo squeezed your ass a little harder before pulling his hand away, leaving you moaning at the loss of contact and shooting him an angry glare. “What's wrong, love?” he smirked, his voice dripping with mockery as his lips stained a deep red from the blood you two had shared during the kiss and the blood he was still taking from you, curled into a cruel grin against your skin.

“You know what's wrong, don't stop touching me!” you snapped, frustration lacing your voice. The moment the words left your mouth, you let out a breathy moan as he clamped his teeth onto your skin again, this time a little harder in response to your defiant tone.

He chuckled slightly. “Don't be so fucking impatient, love.” He pressed soft kisses against your skin, purring against it. “I will touch you again...” he teased, and before you could respond, his hand possessively cupped your breast, a low moan escaping him as your hardened nipple pressed into his palm. You let out a satisfied sigh, your lips parting slightly, and Mattheo couldn't resist; almost instinctively, he pulled you in for another heated kiss.

As soon as his mouth met yours, you couldn't help but reciprocate his fervor with equal intensity. Mattheo squeezed your chest a little harder, forcing you to part your lips, and he wasted no time plunging his tongue into your mouth, flooding you with the metallic taste of blood that was almost tattooed on his tongue.

The sloppy and open mouthed kisses were enough to send shivers down both your bodies, and you were sure you had never been more wet than you were in that moment.

“Look at you.” Mattheo murmured as he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your chin while guiding you to one of the beds in the dorm, his hands never leaving your chest, and his mouth staying on your skin, moving lower and lower. “You're just all talk, aren't you?” he purred, sitting down on the bed and pulling you onto his lap, your legs straddling him, as his lips moved down, almost grazing your hardened left nipple.

You flushed almost violently, but before you could respond, his mouth was on your breast, tongue flicking and teasing your nipple as he sucked, drawing a shiver from you that only widened his grin. His gaze fixated on the marks and faint traces of blood on your neck, an look of satisfaction in his eyes as his tongue continued its relentless, obscene play on your skin, savoring every reaction he wrung from you.

The bastard knew exactly how to use his tongue, and you could already feel yourself losing control.

One of his hands was now tangled softly in your hair, while the other still cupped your chest with a possessiveness that only Mattheo could make feel strangely delicate. It was a balance that would seem odd to anyone else—but not to him. His version of delicacy always came paired with roughness, and as much as you hated to admit it, you loved every bit of it.

"Are you ready to admit that you're just talking?" He murmured, his mouth still toying with your breast as you looked down at him, locked in a mix of pleasure and anger.

“Go to hell, Riddle,” you spat, anger lacing your words, only to moan as his teeth sank into your nipple.

“Oh, love, I'm already in hell.” He suckled your hardened nipple, lingering on the sensitive flesh before pulling away, his hand that had been tangled in your hair sliding down to your neck, giving it a teasing squeeze as he drew you closer, his lips brushing tantalizingly against your ear. “And I'm loving every second of it,” he whispered, sending a surge of heat through your body and making his grin widen even more.

Mattheo pushed you for another kiss, this time a softer one, leaning back against the bed and dragging you with him until the back of his head hit the headboard. In one swift motion, he bit your lip, breaking the kiss and abruptly flipping you onto your back, pressing you against his neck with a strength that made your eyes widen in surprise. You looked up at him, breathless, taking in the mix of dominance and desire radiating from him. You looked at him breathless.

“What—what are you doing?” you asked, your cheeks burning with the sudden action. You could feel his skin against your bare wetness.

Mattheo only grinned, feeling your pussy so close to him, and looked at you almost defiantly, but you were sure that you saw primal hunger in his gaze as he squeezed your thighs.

“You didn't want to break my nose?” Mattheo purred provocatively, a wicked smile curling his lips as he looked at the marks he made on your body. “Do it then.” He gripped your thighs tighter, his voice low and enticing. “Prove that you're not all talk, and sit on my face.” He said it without a shred of shame, and your eyes widened as you looked down at him.

Every inch of you was screaming at you to do it.

“Come on, love, are you scared?” he provoked, his mouth salivating with anticipation as he looked at your pussy nestled against his neck. Something in you snapped, and before you could even think about it, you positioned yourself over his face, sinking down and moaning at the sensation, feeling his grin against your wet cunt as he gripped your thighs even tighter.

“Just like that,” Mattheo murmured into your pussy, his tongue dancing and swirling in his mouth like a prelude to what he was about to do against your folds, and he couldn't help but let out a satisfied chuckle as he watched your impatient eyes.

You were already gasping, staring into Mattheo’s eyes with the same hunger and anger you had before, and he couldn’t help but feel a twisted satisfaction at that. He loved that you cared enough to be furious with him and relished the way you claimed his face as your throne.

For a brief moment, he craved you to break his nose, just so his blood could mingle with your pussy, marking you as his prey. That thought made Mattheo whisper inaudible words against your pussy like a prayer before he pressed your thighs against his cheeks and delivered the first lick.

Slow, painfully slow, almost like torture.

But as much as he craved to torture you, he couldn't, it was simply too much for him. The way your pleading eyes begged for more, the intoxicating scent of your arousal, and the initial taste of your cunt had him crazy. Without a second thought, he buried his face deeper into you, eating you out like a starved man desperate for his last taste of ecstasy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cried out, pushing his hair, which made him groan and moan against your folds. His tongue licked every inch of your core with fervor, ignoring any precision that could exist, too hungry to care. And you didn't mind how messy it got, not when he was licking and sucking your essence as if he wanted to drown in your wetness.

That was good—so good that you could already feel the tears streaming down your face. Your moans turned into screams as his muscle pushed deeper inside you. You were on the brink of breaking.

Mattheo didn't cared about that, though.

Since there was no technique or precision in the way he devoured you, there was only animalistic hunger and fervent hatred as his tongue flicked against your sex and his nose rubbed against your clit, leaving you so drunk with pleasure that the next thing to make you squeal was the feeling of his fingers massaging your thighs while his mouth sucked the spot where his nose had just been.

He wanted to be suffocated by you, to die between your legs consumed by your body, and that only fueled his obsession, driving him to push you further against him. He diverted his gaze from your cunt to your face, his stomach twisting with the precious sound of your moans.

“You look so pretty from here,” he moaned against your pussy, his eyes devouring every inch of you. You looked at him as your body started to weaken, and when you noticed the intensity in his dark brown eyes, you had to close yours quickly to escape his obsessive gaze. That only made him grip your legs even tighter, the veins in his arms bulging as he continued to suck on your clit, lost in your flavor.

“So fucking pretty,” Mattheo purred softly, almost hypnotized by the way your body reacted to him. He continued with fierce determination, his movements growing even more frenzied as his tongue and nose worked together to prolong your pleasure.

You were completely at his mercy, each wave of pleasure crashing over you more intensely than the last. He showed no signs of tiring, fully intent on pushing you to your limits, eager to watch you break over and over against his mouth.

He was utterly addicted to your taste, desperate for you to come into his mouth, determined to savor every last drop.

“Mattheo,” you choked out. “I can't—please, I need to cum!” You moaned repeatedly, your voice and legs trembling in sync.

“You can cum, love,” he said softly, his voice a stark contrast to the brutal way he feasted on you. “I will take it, I promise.” At his words, your body shattered as the first orgasm of the night swept over you, leaving you breathless, weak, and completely undone. But he didn't relent; instead, he buried his face deeper into your wetness, greedily lapping up every drop of your essence, driving you to scream even louder as you pressed into his face like a fucking masochist.

“I need another drop,” he murmured against your pussycat. “Just one, just one.” A lie. He didn't stop after the second drop. He didn't stop after the third, and each time he seemed to grow hungrier, as if he wanted to explode with your taste. But when your fourth orgasm hit, you couldn't take it anymore; you fell apart, collapsing beside him and dragging him down with you.

He had cum.

He came with your taste, and you had never felt more fulfilled, completely proud by the fact that you were the one who drove him to the edge without even touching him.

You looked at him, his chin still glistening with your essence, his chest rising and falling erratically, mirroring your own breath. But when your eyes met his, there was no hint of regret or shame—only a potent mix of hunger and satisfaction, as if he were on the verge of saying something else or maybe pushing your limits again.

“Next time, break my nose.” He said, putting your body against his almost like an embrace.

Next time. You nodded, that sounded like a plan.

© 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚝₂₀₂₄ — 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚍𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎.

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. 🫶🏻

this is my first one-shot about slytherin boys, so please be kind and respectful!

thanks for being my fav beta readers: @diiwata & @earth4angels ! love you both <3. also, thank you @nottsangel ! you were the first person i read regarding slytherin boys. thanks for putting me on to it! (my gallery is grateful as well) <3

[bakugoushotwife]

Just Being Neighborly

a/n: y'all gone need the holy water for this one... it was a lovely writing challenge from the one the only @getosbigballsack so if you something with similar themes don't freak out lol. this was super fun and i definitely got carried away LMFAOOO

cw: shew let's see um, threesomes, mfm but the men are involved briefly, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex, p in v, anal, dirty talk, pet names, slight dacryphilia, size kink maybe? doggy and reverse cowgirl. unedited as usual, i probably missed something im sorry

wc: please im so embarrassed it's 9k

They still remembered the day that you moved in. It was a sunny Tuesday in the middle of the summer, the gentle breeze flowing into their townhouse while they sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch playing Fifa. The sounds of car doors shutting and the roll of suitcase wheels on the concrete sidewalk got Satoru’s attention. He pauses the game, and Suguru groans. The lanky young man trips over himself to lean over his best friend and roommate on the couch, peering out of the window. 

“Stop being so nosy and I was beating you.” The other man sighed, moving his long dark hair to his other shoulder so his companion didn’t lay on it. 

Gojo huffs in defense of himself, keeping his bespectacled eyes trained outside. Finally he sees you. You walk back to the sleek Cadillac in the shortest yellow polka dotted sundress in existence, cute white pumps elongating your bare legs even more so. He was drooling and he hadn’t even seen your face. “There’s a babe moving in!” He rejoices, maybe a bit too loud through the open frame.

 Suguru leans over to pull his mouthy friend out of the window, but you too, piqued his interest. The dress was tight, hugging every curve and accentuating your large bust and wide hips. You don’t notice them watching, too busy pulling boxes out of the trunk and setting them on the sidewalk for you to carry in. Satoru wonders what you do for a living. These were expensive townhouses, the two college students only lived there on the account of him being a trust fund baby. 

The more built of the two shoved the other male off his lap, but the lanky man saved himself from falling to the floor. “We should go help her, she shouldn’t carry all that herself.” Suguru suggests like the sweetheart he is. Satoru hums mischievously at the idea. 

“What a great idea, I’m sure the babe will be relieved to have two strong young men living so close!” He grins, elbowing his partner-in-crime. 

“Y/N, are you done yet?” A foreign voice thunders, the sound of dress shoes clack back out to the car, grabbing their attention. Soon a man in a suit comes into view, folding his arms at you. 

You sigh softly and paint your smile on. “Almost, dear. This one’s a bit heavy.” 

“Well you packed it all in there, so whose fault is that?” Your husband chuckles, though he’s not kidding. Satoru Gojo’s nose scrunches up.

“Blegh, he’s an asshole.” He sneered. 

This time, Suguru Geto had to concede to his best friend, the way the man spoke to you was awful, and he was making you carry everything? Disgusting, “Agreed.” 

Satoru gently slapped the other’s chest. “Then let’s go help the babe.” He said excitedly, to which his friend chuckled and shook his head at his eagerness, though he can’t wait to introduce himself to you. The two get up from the couch and slip into their shoes, beginning their descent down the lavish stone steps. He feels a pang of guilt, you’re clearly in a relationship of some sort, but the feeling soon subsides when he remembers his treatment of you. Men like that don’t deserve women like you. 

As if his closest friend could read his mind, he elbows him in the ribs. He’s got a cunning smile on his face, and Geto knows that he doesn’t care about your relationship either. If there was one thing you could count on Satoru for, it was unabashed boldness. 

“I’m thinking we swoop in right, save this pretty damsel in distress.” He wiggles his eyebrows, pulling his glasses down his nose to give his friend a knowing look. He quickly pushes them back up, though Suguru knows that won’t be the last time his companion will pull that stunt. “Or at least offer our strong shoulders to cry on while we carry all her things.” 

Suguru sighed. “Be normal, please, for once.” He pleaded, dark eyes narrowing at the smirk decorating his face. 

Satoru rolled his eyes behind his glasses. Sometimes Suguru was so annoying, and absolutely zero fun. If he had to seduce you himself so be it, but he wouldn’t let Geto sweep in later if he didn’t help. “I am normal, you’re the weak one.” He giggled, sticking his tongue out and scooting down the rest of the steps, smiling brightly once the sun warmed his skin. They stood on the same sidewalk as you, shyly observing you unpack the car. You seem frustrated with one box in the trunk, perhaps the same one you mentioned to your…heathen earlier. 

Gojo smirks, sharing a glance with the ever-stoic Suguru once more. Hands in pockets of his black basketball shorts, he wears that brazen grin all the way to the Cadillac. Suguru walks slowly after him, eyes trained on the ground ahead of him. He would have to be the gentleman to make up for Satoru’s lack of shame. 

The lanky man clears his throat, the summer sun behind him enshrining him in an ethereal glow. You turn to the stranger, taken aback by his almost unnerving beauty. He hooks his glasses on his tight black tee, grinning teeth shining as white as his shaggy white locks.His gaze is the clearest blue you’ve ever seen, you can see the clouds from above you reflecting in his matching sky colored eyes. You arch your brow, unsure what to make of his approach. Just as he’s about to speak, a second man appears. He’s not quite as tall, but his shoulders are broader and features warmer. He smiles softly, black eyes carefully analyzing you. He folded his arms over his chest, abs clearly defined beneath the opaque wife beater. He jutted his chin out to your boxes, but it’s the first visitor that speaks. 

“We noticed you could use some help, miss.” He smiles, icy stare shamelessly raking over your figure. Your cheeks warm under his gaze–no, surely it’s just this summer heat. You’re happily married, moving into these lovely townhomes because of your newlywed husband’s success as a District Attorney. Maybe he wasn’t the most attentive husband–or even the nicest, but he was paying your way and you didn’t have to lift a finger. He did right by you, so you tell yourself. But you must admit, the two young men were right. There was no way you could get that damn box out of the trunk, much less carry it all upstairs to your new dwelling. 

“Oh, well, yes actually. Thank you…?” You say, arching a perfect brow at them. Gojo nearly let out a dreamy sigh, your face was just as perfect as the rest of you. Your brows were immaculately manicured, lashes full and framing enchanting doe eyes that looked at them so expectantly. You were so tempting it was hard for even Suguru to be respectful, sweat beading at your chest so deliciously he had to readjust the gray sweats hanging low on his hips. Satoru hummed, amused by the scene. 

“I’m Satoru, this is Suguru. We live here!” He shared as if it were a treat just for you. 

Suguru stifled a groan. “It’s always nice to welcome new neighbors. May we ask your name?” He asks, leaning forward slightly. You leaned against the bumper of your car, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. They were handsome and not much younger than you if you had to guess. They were certainly capable of helping you carry these last few boxes. There was no harm in introducing yourself. So why did you feel so guilty?

“Oh, I’m Y/N Robertson, it’s lovely to meet you. I’ve been struggling with this box for a while!” You chuckle nervously, patting the offending weight and stepping out of the way for one of them to grab. The white-haired man nodded, showing no signs of regret, repeating your name aloud.

“Y/N Robertson. Was that jerk your husband?” He asks, the permanent glimmer of amusement twinkling in his eye. 

You gasp softly and Suguru’s eyes widen. “I apologize about him, he has issues. I think he was born without a filter.” Suguru apologized, glaring at his counterpart. 

Jerk? Is that too far off the mark? It had been such a stressful move, you did mostly everything yourself, your husband working fourteen hour days and refusing to lift a finger when he was around. You were mostly embarrassed that these two had noticed his treatment, not wanting their pity. “He’s…he’s just been busy with work. But yes, he is my husband.” 

Satoru clicked his tongue, walking forward to effortlessly lift the burden you had been struggling with for the past twenty minutes. “That’s a shame, Y/N. A princess like you doesn’t need to be carrying something like this. But don’t worry, we got ya.” He winks. 

You avert your gaze to the other man, almost seeking solace in his peaceful presence. He’s wearing a faintly smug expression as he lifts the stack of boxes on the sidewalk. Suguru only nods his agreement. “Which one’s yours?” 

You think about it, pulling out your phone to look at the paperwork.. “I’m sorry, I forgot, I’m pulling it up…” You mutter, taking your lip between your teeth. The men share a look. You were adorable. 

“Take your time, we’re fine.” Suguru insisted, giving you another warm smile. It soothes your nerves only slightly and stokes the fire elsewhere. 

Gojo nods. “Yeah, we’re super strong. Don’t worry.” He says, admiring your manicured nails tapping away at the screen of your device.

 You allow yourself to giggle at this, you could tell they utilized the location’s gym facility a lot. Satoru’s black shirt hugged him tightly, swells of his biceps bulging against the hems. He grins at the gift of your laughter, smirking at his friend. Suguru chuckled through his nose, shaking his head at how easily his roommate flustered you. You hiss in celebration.

“Yes! I found it, sorry. It looks like I’m in…408!” You say without realizing. Your innocent eyes blink up at the tall pillars that were your new neighbors and current assistants. Satoru looked like a kid in a candy shop, and Suguru smirked in silent celebration. 

“Right across the way from us. How divine.” Satoru chuckled, turning to make his way up the stairs with the weighty box. “It looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of us!” 

Suguru hummed. “I’m sure we’ll make great friends.” He said, slowly striding after the energetic man. You just padded behind them, watching Suguru’s back muscles glean with sweat, long hair swaying slightly as he trods along the steps. You felt ashamed, eyeing them this way, but it was hard to miss the way Satoru’s shirt rode up to reveal his own toned abdomen and white patch of hair leading to the shorts sliding down his slender hips. You bit your lip and averted your gaze, telling yourself it was just because of the growing wedge in your marriage. You just needed to escape their lingering gazes and deviant smugness. 

Later that evening, the men sat on the same couch that they discovered you on, deciding to play the long game. Your husband was a tool, you were practically in heat just from their eyes on you. It was clear he wasn’t giving you any of the things you really needed.

That was a year ago now, the two college boys are more than in your favor by now. You brought them a tupperware of muffins the very next day, and it kind of became your trademark. You took good care of them, bringing them dinner some nights and supposed “leftover” baked goods. They wondered if your husband even noticed that you started cooking for four. They found any and every excuse to visit you during your husband’s long workdays, often spending the entire afternoon with you. 

When they weren’t with you, they were thinking of you, talking to each other about what they would do when they could share you. They could hear everything through the thin walls, every fight you had, every tear you shed, every orgasm–though they could tell they were faked. It was painful, biding their time until they could make their move, just hoping that the moment presented itself soon. 

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait much longer. It was another regular day, the two were working on some household chores when a door–your door–slamming caught their attention, followed by crying and two voices screaming at each other. 

Satoru dropped the plate he was washing with wide eyes, scrambling for the peep hole. They’ve heard the arguments, but none of them had spilled into the hallway, or had been filled with such emotion on your end. This time it was your husband who cowered in front of you as you screamed and threw his things out of the home. 

“Cheating bastard! You cried, face reddened from all the stress, no doubt. Suguru turns the washing machine on and makes for the door too, fighting with Satoru to see. 

“Honey please–it was a one time—” 

“Oh don’t bother. She sent me everything! This is on the fucking news, you absolute ass!” You huff, shoving a suitcase into the hall. At that, Satoru scrambled to the couch, flipping on the television and pilfering through the channels until the news displayed the reason for such an argument. Even he was shocked, a cheating scandal for the ages. Suguru’s heart dropped as the reporter spoke:

“District Attorney Joel Robertson caught in a blazing hot scandal this evening. The other woman tells all! His secretary leaks the sex tapes–claiming this affair has been going on for years.”

“How could he cheat on her??” Satoru is puzzled, yet grateful. Your dumbass husband has finally given you a reason to leave. It was only a matter of guessing when you would bang on their door. 

Suguru sighs, he never wanted you to be hurt. He knows that Satoru isn’t necessarily thinking about it that way, though he can’t deny the twinge of excitement in the back of his mind. Your dollhouse of a marriage would be over, and he had the perfect idea for revenge. 

“Sex tapes, huh?” Suguru muttered, muscular body pressed into the door to watch your husband pick up all his things strewn about the hallway. He didn’t even look guilty, seemingly fine with your pained tears. You slammed the door in his face. 

“I never want to see you again! You’ll get papers soon!” You yelled from behind your door. Your husband rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah? Well good luck paying for a place like this with no job, you insufferable piece of work.Or finding anyone better than me.” ” He chuckled, the suitcase rolling down the marble hallway and your tears being heard loud and clear after Satoru clicks the TV off. 

“Sex tapes.” Satoru confirmed with the shake of his head. He realized how this had to be affecting you, pressing his face against Suguru’s to try and peek out of the peep hole for any movement within. “How horrible. The secretary’s an ugly anyway, they belong together.” He snorted.

Suguru side-eyed him. Satoru said every thought that crossed his mind, his friend was convinced, however it was hard to disagree with some of his wild statements. This was one of them. You were way out of your husband’s league. He treated you like garbage and then had the nerve to cheat after not even being able to please you? Disgusting. Vile. 

“Should we…?” Suguru poses aloud, not able to stand the sound of your cries much longer. 

Just as Satoru nods eagerly, your door flies open again. This time, you march right across the hallway, raising your pretty fist to knock on their door. Suguru’s lips part in surprise, but you hesitate to actually connect with the firm barrier between you and them. It was almost like the point of no return, the building tension that started the day you moved in would all come to a head if you crossed the threshold. 

You bit your lip, looking back at your entrance. Maybe you should just go back, you were just emotional and seeking out the only comfort you could think of, right?

Satoru flings the door open, not giving you the chance. You’re face to face with the two, realizing they probably saw everything. Your cheeks heat up, your raised hand slowly lowering to your side. You must look a mess, hair disheveled from the countless times you raked your hands through it, eyes red and puffy from crying, tear stains on your cheeks. You make a strangled sob noise, looking at them so sadly it pulls their heartstrings. 

Suguru steps forward, reaching for you. “We heard, we’re so sorry..” He says, and you can see his sympathy for you written in the warmth on his face. You put your hand in his, the feeling of human contact with someone who actually cared was almost enough to make you cry again. 

Satoru huffs, leaning against the doorframe. You’re almost caged between them, feeling their body heat radiating off. His face is embossed with displeasure, eyes darkened in the same way the sky does before a storm. “He’s a piece of shit. Doesn’t deserve someone like you anyway, sweetness.” He says with a look of disgust, shaking his head. 

Suguru covers your hand with his other one, dark eyes bouncing between yours, like he’s trying to figure out what you were thinking. Truthfully, you were embarrassed more than anything. It was one thing to be in a loveless marriage, it was another for that fact to be known across town thanks to your husband’s low morals and high notoriety. You would be a laughing stock. 

“I’m just…embarrassed! I’ll be known around town as his poor wife. I hate that, I don’t want their pity or laughter…just so embarrassing.” You mutter, looking toward the ground. The sentiment makes Satoru pout. Oh how he just wanted to comfort you, for Suguru to lead you into the apartment where you would stay with them forever. 

Suguru frowns. He could tell your tears weren’t for your broken heart, but your devastation. Your reputation on the line, betrayed by a man who had never treasured you. He glances at Satoru, who’s just staring at you with such longing the dark-haired man can’t take it. “We can help you embarrass him, if you’d like.” 

His eyes widen. The words fell from his lips before he could think the better of it, but now you’re looking at him with those pouty doe eyes in confusion, and Satoru has to save the day, picking up your other hand. 

“Yeah, he’s right. We’ve been listening to you fake orgasms for a year now. Dude has some nerve makin’ tapes like he knows what he’s doing. We could really show him.” Satoru chuckles, leaning down from the door frame. You can smell his cologne, something minty with almost a hint of chocolate. He does know what he’s doing, invading your senses like this. His warm body and gorgeous eyes that have been undressing you since the day that you moved in paired with his scent and touch was overwhelming in the best way. Especially with the firm but comforting grip that Suguru kept. His hands were calloused from hard work, cradling the softness of your hand like a newborn. He leans closer too, waiting for some sort of response from you. His dark hair fell in layers around his face, accentuating his strong jaw and cheekbones, pale pink lips smiling softly. He smells of bourbon and cinnamon and some sort of expensive shampoo, the two of them so different and beautiful in their own ways–and both wanting you. 

“What did you..have in mind?” You squeak, your neighbors and acquaintances grin at each other. You didn’t even question their eavesdropping, knowing that they’ve been craving you since that summer sunny day. 

Satoru hums in pretend thought. This was only for show, they had determined what they wanted to do moments ago when they shared that glance. “Make a sex tape of your own, with men that can actually make you cum.” He let a laugh out through his nose. 

Your eyes widen, you open your mouth to speak but find that you don’t know what to say. Have you had a few wet dreams about a moment like this? Maybe, but that didn’t take the surprise out of their reciprocal desire. You looked to Suguru to search for any hint of his friend teasing you, but the man only squeezed your hand and smiled smugly. He could sense your doubt, and it was precious. 

“He’s not joking. We’d love to help you get revenge, dear.” He doubled down, the air around you growing heavy and charged with an energy that made your stomach drop, butterflies replacing your insides. Satoru steps out of your way, and Suguru angles his body the same way. You can pass right between them and enter their townhouse. You nibble your bottom lip, a nervous habit they had picked up on. “No worries, though, if you don’t. We’re here for you irregardless.” Suguru adds on the end, not wanting you to think you must. They wanted you to want to. 

And Satoru sure hopes you do, his gray sweatpants growing tighter at the thought of having you today, and under such circumstances! They hadn’t considered making films with you when discussing their fantasies, but he was definitely down with the idea. He smiles and nods, taking his lip between his teeth to mirror your nerves, but his was anticipation.

Suguru is highly perceptive, he’s hoping you say yes if only for his best friend’s sake. You wrack your brain, you should say no. There’s no way that this can end well, but your desire has piqued. They were right, your husband was horrible at sex, and you’ve been wondering what Satoru’s slender hands would feel like on your body, thinking about Suguru’s sweet smile pressed into your skin instead. Your stomach tingles at the thought, and you know what you want. You want to give in to your desire, you want to be with the men that had actually taken care of you for close to a year, and you wanted your soon to be ex-husband to see how good they could make you feel. 

You take a deep breath and squeeze through their bodies to enter their home. It was clean, like always. They tried to be better about that when you started eating dinner with them. You set your phone down on the table, taking a seat on their couch to blink at them expectantly. 

They shared another look, but this one was one of surprise. There you were, in their house waiting for them to fuck you. They had dreamed of this, and now it was happening. Gojo wastes no time, smirking and coming back inside, pulling Suguru in with him and shutting the door. You don’t miss the sound of the lock clicking, though it made you giggle at his eagerness. He takes his shirt off to avoid having to do it later, and you bite down on your lip again. Though this time it’s because he’s incredibly sculpted, as lean as he is. 

His skin is pale and scarred, you wonder from what, but it only added to his beauty. Every muscle was defined, down to his v-line. You can’t help but notice the ache in his pants, and you nearly sigh dreamily. It’s almost embarrassing how your core throbs, and this was just one of the two. Suguru picks Satoru’s shirt up off the floor, setting it on the coffee table instead. He takes a seat on the couch next to you, and you fight the urge to request his shirt be removed as well. You smile shyly at him, and he chuckles, reaching his hand out to hold your chin. “We’re gonna take good care of you, baby.” He insists, thumbing at your bottom lip. 

Your eyes stare up at him expectantly, taking in the lustful gaze he finally reveals. His dark eyes become half-lidded and focused on your pout. “Can I kiss you sweet girl?” He asks, sharp brow arched. 

You nod eagerly, feeling the cushion on your other side dip with the weight of the other male. He must have set up the camera, surely he wouldn’t allow Suguru to beat him to the punch. Much to your surprise, he only sets his hand on your hip, leaning forward for a better view of his best friend’s mouth covering yours. Geto’s lips are rough like his hands, in a good way. His tongue is warm as it laps over yours, his large hand still holding your jaw. You can feel Satoru’s hands knead at your thighs, but he’s not protesting. He doesn’t even protest when Suguru’s other large hand slips under your ass to pull you up into his lap. He just scoots closer to keep you sandwiched between hard bodies. 

“Yeah this is hot.” Satoru groans, palming himself over his pants when Suguru gently hikes your skirt up so he can access more skin, his thick fingers digging into your doughy flesh. You could feel his lips curl into a smile at his friend’s encouragement, kissing you harder. Your senses were overwhelmed, though you expected and wanted that. He tasted so good, letting your tongue dominate his just for the enjoyment. He nearly chuckles at your eagerness, it seems their desire wasn’t one sided. Your hands tug at his shirt, so he lets you catch your breath so he can yank it off.  “Ah, you gotta match us, angel.” Satoru grins, nimble fingers playing with the hem of your tank top. 

You blush, knowing you have no bra beneath. It was still too hot to wear layers, though your body felt like it was at the highest temperature it had been in a while. You’re so pretty, Suguru thinks, watching you peel your tank top off, bare chest to them. Your tits were perfect, nipples hardening before their very eyes. Satoru groaned, reaching to cup one of your breasts. Suguru’s lips latch onto your neck, his hands still kneading at your thighs. You can feel your cunt dampen as Satoru dives forward, sucking your pebbled bud in between his teeth. You gasp softly at the sensation, Suguru’s eyes open, watching his roommate fondle your tits and feeling you writhe in his lap only made his hardness nestle into your side, making you gasp again. Both of them were going to be huge, and you didn’t know how you would be able to handle it. 

Suguru snaps you out of your thoughts, rotating you in his lap just a little. Your back was flush against his chest, the skin almost burning where you connected. His muscles made you feel like you were sitting against a wall. If not for his warmth and the bulge settled in between your asscheeks, you may have thought you were. Satoru hums, pleased with having more access to you, his tongue swirling your sensitive bud. His fingers pinch the other, the slight pain sending shockwaves through your body, causing you to arch into his mouth. 

Geto chuckles, his hands still stroking gentle paths from your thighs to your hips, where nothing but your skirt stopped him. He arched his brow, jerking the fabric to sit around your waist. “No panties either, sweet girl?”

Satoru pulled away from your chest at this, a thin string of saliva stringing from his plump pink lips to your breast. “Oh dollface, I’m beginning to think you got ready for us.” He chuckles, the sound bright and bubbly as he scoots back on the couch to gaze at your newly revealed pussy. Your head spins from the way they look at you, like you’re a precious jewel. You feel drunk on the mix of their touches, where one was sweet and warm the other was rougher and icy. Suguru continues to press sporadic kisses to your neck and shoulders, trying to find your sweet spots. You whine so darling when he finds them, he can’t help but smirk to his best friend as your eyes flutter shut from the simple pleasure of him kissing your neck and the white-haired boy’s grip on your knees to spread your legs. He groans at the sight of your slick cunt, nodding to Geto. 

“She’s soakin’ Sugu. Hope you don’t mind but I gotta taste.” He hummed, his svelte fingers spread your lips apart and you shiver from the cold air being blown on your center. Satoru giggles, you were so cute like this, wiggling on Suguru’s lap and craving more of them by the second. 

Suguru nodded his permission, obsidian eyes locked on his friend’s sapphire ones. He thought the boy’s excitement was adorable, and yearned to watch the enjoyment of both of you. The lanky boy cooed his happiness and leaned forward to lick a fat stripe down your center, moaning at the taste. Your head fell back on Geto’s shoulder, hand flying to tangle up in white tresses. He giggles again, relishing the way your body responds to him. He does it again, humming at the intense lust in Suguru’s eyes and your sweet gasp. 

“Stop playing.” Suguru warned, biting marks into your skin to give you some pressure and pleasure since his counterpart wanted to toy with you. 

Gojo pouted, but you nodded your head in agreement. “No fun.” He huffed, but dipped his head down to your core for the count this time. You didn’t want him to tease? Fine. He won’t. But just remember that you asked for it. His tongue plunges in your weeping hole, his fingers assisting him in drawing circles around your clit. You moan softly, body jolting at the sudden intensity. Your hips rolled, fucking yourself on the muscle. 

Suguru hums at the sight, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you from moving too much. It was clear your ex didn’t know how to treat you sexually, either. You feel his warm breath in your ear, Satoru’s fingers replacing his tongue, pushing his long fingers straight to your spongy spot. Your vision spots from that alone, not to mention his lips suckling your nerves. Suguru watches every move, impossibly turned on by the two of you together. 

“You’re so beautiful with his mouth on you like that, sweetheart. Do you like it?” He coos, collecting all your hair and brushing it over your shoulder so he could see all of your perfect face. You nod quickly, and Suguru chuckles, a deep rumble that you can feel in his chest against your back. He realizes that you’ve lost the ability to speak just from Satoru. It’s sweet, but he knows you’re in for one hell of a time. 

“You sure you can handle both of us, dear? I don’t want to overwhelm you.” He asks, eyes focused on the animalistic way Satoru devours you. His mouth was a mess of your arousal, tongue swiping his lips to keep your taste. 

You were already overwhelmed, but it was the best feeling of your life. You didn’t know how you would please both of them, but you knew you could. So you nod. 

“Use your words for me then, sweetheart. We’ll do the color system, m’kay? Green is all good, yellow for slow, red for stop, can you do that for us?” He says, running his fingers through your hair. Your eyes meet Satoru’s, who also seems to be waiting for a reply. You nod again. 

“Yes, ‘m fine, green all good.” You mutter, grinding your pussy against Satoru’s nose even though he was buried in your cunt. He sucks on your clit again, but it makes your stomach jump and your hips rock faster so they know you’re close to your first real orgasm in who knows how long. 

Geto hums his approval, tightening his hold on your waist. “You gonna make her cum for us, Sato?” He inquires, every touch flaming hot. Gojo nods, teeth scraping your bud and it’s all you need to topple over the edge. Suguru’s hands go back to your hips, your fingers tugging on the other boy who still lapped at your nectar. He hums his enjoyment, sitting back on his knees and winking at you. 

“You can pull my hair all night long, angel.” He says, watching your hole clench around nothing. How cute. He flickers his gaze to the man holding you upright, arousal nearly dripping off his tongue. “I think she needs a little break, you wanna taste?” He asks, which confuses you for a moment. How could he give you a break if they were going to swap?

Geto hums. “Of course I do. Come here.” He says, smirking at your bewildered gaze on them. Satoru grins and leans over you, planting his lips on the man who asked. You gasp softly, the sight more arousing than you’d like to admit. It wasn’t necessarily surprising, as they seemed pretty attracted to each other, you just felt ashamed for getting off on it. But you can’t help it, the way they hummed their satisfaction against each other’s mouths was melodic, Satoru opening his mouth for Suguru to utilize how he wants. The latter holds his jaw in similar fashion to the way he held yours earlier, controlling the space between them. He pulls back a little, mostly just to view your arousal covering Satoru’s bratty face and to look over at your awestruck features. He smirks at this, his tongue darting out as he brings Satoru’s face back to his, though they don’t kiss. Satoru whimpers as Suguru licks the sides of his mouth, cleaning all your natural honey off his best friend’s face. 

You gasp softly, not able to stop yourself, “That’s fuckin’ hot.” Satoru chuckles, his hand closing around Suguru’s wrist so he could turn his head in his grip. 

“I agree baby girl. He just had to taste you on my tongue.” He grinned, though that was the exact truth. The flavor of the two of you combined was driving him crazy. His dick throbbed painfully, and he didn’t know how much of this he could take. He releases Satoru in favor of fisting his hair. 

“Let me get her other hole ready.” He demands, and only Satoru knows what he means. The white-haired boy grins devilishly, sitting back on the other end of the couch. He wiggles out of his pants and tosses them over his shoulder, cock slapping his eight-pack. 

He looks at you with that same bare-naked stare he gave you the day you met, his smirk unfaltering. “Lean over and suck my cock, baby. He wants to see it and he's gotta get your ass ready.” He giggles softly, his large hand wrapping around his own length to keep it from aching. Your eyes flicker to the cock in question, aggravated red tip oozing pre-ejaculate down his prettily veined shaft, curving upwards to abuse every spongy spot. He was much bigger than your ex, you knew it would take some time to adjust. Nonetheless, you eagerly slip off of Suguru’s lap, getting on all fours. Suguru takes the opportunity to free his cock from his pants, sitting on his knees so he had a bird’s eye view of you crawling toward Satoru.

Gojo nearly vibrates with excitement, moving his hand away from his length so you could take over. He suddenly pouts when your pretty eyes look up at him, he’s realized he still hasn’t kissed you yet. “Oh no sugar, Can’t have you suck me off if I haven’t even been a gentleman.” 

He hums, sitting up so he could meet your lips. He was greedy with his kiss, lips hungrily moving over yours. You respond in kind, hand resting on the back of his neck where your fingers just brushed over the soft fuzz of his undercut. He moans softly, clearly enjoying the way you play with him. He pulls back with a loud smacking sound, resting his back against the arm of the couch once more, hands folded behind his head. Suguru rolls his eyes at Satoru’s showmanship, but he watches anyway.

“Much better, go ahead, hot stuff.” He coos, looking rather satisfied with himself. Your face is why, so drunk on his kiss that you sit back on your knees and hover over his tip, squealing in surprise as Suguru holds your waist. You can feel his length rubbing against your thighs, positioned under your cunt. His tip collides with your clit so perfectly when you rock back on him, your hips doing so automatically. You moan softly at the feeling, and Suguru hums as your arousal continues to drip around him. 

“I’m gonna fuck you while you give him head, sweetness, ‘s that good with you?” He asks, praying you say yes. He didn’t want to throw too much at you at once, but his dick was beginning to hurt. He sighs happily when you nod. You bite your lip, knowing you were about to feel unimaginably full. You turn your head to peek at his size, finding him not as long but nearly twice as girthy as the dick you hold in your hands. And you already needed two hands for Satoru. You sigh, Satoru’s slender fingers grabbing your chin to pull your focus back to him. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout him angel, I got you soaked enough to take him.” He brags, squeezing your cheeks between his grip. He giggles at your smooshed face and hums, bringing your chin back down to his tip. You batted your eyelashes at him, watching his face carefully as you stick your tongue out and take him into your mouth. He groans at the relief of your warm insides, ego stroked when you gag just halfway down his length. He can feel himself in the back of your tight throat, eyes fluttering shut when you start to bob your head along him. Suguru smirks, enjoying the sight. He can see the muscles twitch in Satoru’s stomach and he can feel your pussy lips move on his dick leading him to believe you’re clenching around nothing. 

He can fix that. He palms your round ass, relishing the way you push yourself back into him while easing more and more of Satoru’s dick down your throat. It’s gorgeous, Gojo’s soft moans and the choking gags of you trying to take all of him. Your throat squeezes him perfectly, his hand coming down on the back of your neck to keep you there. He forces his eyes open, wanting to remember the way you look with his cock stuffed deep, tears rolling down your face. All three of you have forgotten about the camera, just performing for each other. Satoru can tell when Suguru plunges in by the way your eyes widen and you temporarily stop moving. Though you don’t have much a choice once Suguru starts rolling his hips against your asscheeks. The burn as he stretches you out is delicious, making you moan around Satoru. He moans in return, the vibration of your voice going straight to his balls. He can’t help but slightly buck into your warm mouth, Suguru’s slow thrusts giving you time to adjust. 

You clench around him and that sensation alone is so good he almost moans. Satoru wasn’t lying, he made sure you were absolutely drenched to make accommodating his friend’s size as easy as possible. Your walls were still so choking and spongy, he can feel a tingling sensation shoot down his spine. He watches you get used to him, your hips slightly wiggle back for him, and you resume bobbing along Satoru. It was hard to breathe with such a task at hand, you took deep breaths through your nose, but you still felt dizzy as Suguru picked up his pace. 

Satoru watched the pleasure wash over Geto’s face, the man’s eyes closing and mouth dropping open. It was so hot, especially with the way you squeezed around him. It was too much, he knew he wouldn’t last long like this. Your pretty face at his cock, burying your nose in his snow colored pubes paired with Geto’s soft grunts as he plows into you and the sound of his balls slapping against your ass was sending him hurtling towards the finish line and he didn’t want this to end yet. He didn’t want to shoot his load in your mouth—not this time anyway. 

Suguru settles into a regular pace, trying not to falter when you squeeze down on him like this. His thrusts are powerful, pushing you into Gojo’s trimmed bush with every rock of his hips. The men are rewarded with the sweet sound of your gags, to which they both cherish. He tries to be gentle as he gathers some spit on his fingers, tentatively sliding the spit around your tight ring while he keeps you drunk on dick. You mewl softly as his thick index slips in, both holes squeezing on him so fucking good he groans. Suddenly, there’s a rubber band ready to snap in your gut, making you gasp around the girth keeping you from speaking, as if you could do much of that anyway.

The man responsible hums, giving your ass a gentle smack. “Gonna cum for us again baby?” You nod along Satoru, and he beams with satisfaction. “Go ahead, get my dick nice and wet for me.” His words are so lewd that you can’t help but obey, gagging on Satoru as you try to cry out. The slender boy can’t handle it, biting down on his lip to avoid  the inevitable. 

“Sugu, not gonna make it like this..” Satoru says in a whiny tone, watching your ass ripple into Geto’s hips and your face contort in added bliss. Suguru peeked at his friend’s pouty face and chuckling at the blown pupils and flushed cheeks of the bratty male. 

“That’s fine bubs, we’ll change it up. I’m sure that throat needs a break.”  Suguru hummed, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. He didn’t want anything obscuring his view of your perfect mounds. He lightly spanked the flesh, relishing your little squeal. He treasures his last few pumps of you, knowing he would give his whiny counterpart your sopping hole. Satoru releases your hair, smiling brightly at the sight of your ruined face. 

��Now those are some tears I can get behind, princess.” He coos, thumbing them off your pretty face. He brings your mouth back to his, not willing to give you any time to breathe. You’re gasping against his lips, but your hold on his shoulders begs him to come closer. Suguru continues prodding your hole, spitting on the second entrance of yours he’d be taking. He slips a second finger in, and you don’t complain. You sigh into Satoru’s mouth and tug at his hair, lips smacking against each other's messily. Geto loves watching this, his other hand stroking his aching erection. 

Satoru watches his friend, trying to sync his timing to his. He was only trying to keep you occupied so the other man could work your asshole, knowing it would be a big stretch, Satoru was content to make out with you until he comes untouched, but he knows Suguru won’t allow that to happen. He nods, now able to scissor his fingers in your hole. His strong hands grip your hips, pulling you from the white-haired man which earned a whine from you. 

“You’ll get Satoru back, beloved, don’t worry.” Suguru rasps, pulling you back into his lap, facing away from him as you did earlier, the only difference being your knees folded under you as if you were still in doggy. You felt a little guilty with his comment, not wanting to prefer one over the other. So you lay your head back on his shoulder, using two fingers on his jaw to turn his face close enough for you to push your lips on his. Satoru loves the sight, the two sexiest people he knows making out right in front of him! The only thing that could possibly make this better is what they’re planning on next. Gojo walks forward on his knees, once more caging you in. It’s his mouth you feel soothing the marks his friend left earlier, breaking new patches of skin to bruise of his own. 

Suguru’s hand cups your cheek, his kisses deliciously slow and sensual. He didn’t want his hard work to go to waste though, so he lifts you slightly, lining his cock up with your asshole. He breaks the sweet kiss, “You think you can take both of us, baby?” 

“Oh she can do it, poor girl needs it.” Satoru hums, tucking some of your hair behind your ear. “Isn’t that right?” 

You nod. If you thought you were incapable of speaking earlier, then maybe you’ve never had good sex in your entire life. “Green, go for it..wan’ have both.” You whine, making Satoru light up. 

“You heard the lovely lady.” Satoru purrs, hands on your waist as a means to push you onto Suguru’s cock if he doesn't do it fast enough for his liking. Suguru just chuckles through his nose and shakes his head. 

“So impatient. Very well.” He hums, using his leverage on your hips to slide his tip past the squeezing ring of muscle. He grips your hips harder than he means to, undoubtedly leaving semi-permanent marks. It was impossible not to, he was trying to slowly inch his way in, but your ass was sucking him in so good he had to slowly shove the rest in. You let out a loud wanton moan, bordering scream. Satoru moaned from the sight and sound alone, his only touch being his hands on your waist. He was going to claim your cunt, no doubt, but he had to let you get accustomed to Suguru’s rod in your ass. 

He just lets you sit on it for a moment, partially for his own benefit. He had to get himself under control or he would bust immediately, and ruin everything for Satoru. And he would never hear the end of his mouth if he did. You feel so full, the pressure of him stretching everything open makes you see stars. You yearn for movement, for some relief on your throbbing clit, so you whine, watching Satoru’s face morph into surprise as you try to bounce on Suguru already. 

The man moans, the first one he’s let loose all evening. It’s deep and once again thunders against your back. You were better than the fantasies he had conjured in his head, and he was determined to give you the time of your life. So he aids you in your bounces, his rough hands supporting your weight and dragging you up and down his shaft at his own pace. It was still too good, the warmth and tightness choking down on him perfectly.

“Fuck her, Satoru.” Geto breathily demands, the gravelly tone of his voice sending a chill to both you and the man he ordered inside you. Satoru didn’t hesitate, his knees situated between Suguru’s. He lined up with your entrance, tugging you forward just a bit which must have deepened the long-haired man’s connection as you started moaning so lewdly Satoru wondered if he’d paint your walls just by pushing inside. He couldn’t watch your poor pussy clamp around nothing any longer though, bottoming out in you and holding your cheeks in one large hand. He enjoyed how your sounds changed, sounding warped due to your smooshed face. He smiled, your cunt tightening around him, meaning it got even tighter for Geto. 

“You heard the man, ‘m gonna fuck you angel. Let us know you’re okay.” He cooed, and even though his words were sweet he almost sounded like he was teasing you. 

You nod, eyes closed tight and nose scrunched at the sensation of two huge cocks stuffing you full. You thought your intestines must be forced to move to accommodate them, heavy breathing and soft grunts in your ears. “Good, so good.” 

Satoru nodded, kissing your forcibly puckered lips sweetly as he began to move inside you too. His eyes roll back for a moment, everything about this was perfect. Your silky walls pulsating around him, the feeling of Suguru’s cock rubbing against his only separated by a thin wall of tissue, the look on his lovers faces. He groans, tossing his head back as he fucks into you harder. He dreamed of a day like this, and now he could only pray this wasn’t a one time thing. He was already addicted to this, and by the looks of it so was Suguru. He hadn’t ever seen the man so relaxed, though he enjoyed it immensely. As if he could feel his stare, Geto opens his eyes to make contact with the man staring. He winked, a slight smirk. Your hips continued to buck, getting fucked no matter how you moved. Forward onto Satoru’s curved length abusing your pleasure spot or backwards onto Suguru’s impaling girth splitting you open. You feel that familiar sensation of fire building in your gut, your pants and moans getting closer together. The men look at each other, nodding breathlessly. They were close, like they had been since the moment they saw you undress. The feeling of your choking walls on both ends made it impossible to hold out any longer, though your body spasms tell them they won’t have to. Your grip on Satoru’s hair tightens, a wailing moan signifying your release as if the rush of cum surrounding Gojo wasn’t obvious enough. 

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna get both loads love, you want that?” Suguru grunts in your ear. 

You nod vigorously, head so empty you could only collapse against his chest, making him support the full weight of you. He didn’t mind at all, grinning ear to ear. He was hanging on by a thread, but it was his job to make sure everyone was happy. 

“You first Sato.” He groaned, clearly struggling. 

“With me.” The man pouted, the deal so sweet that Suguru couldn’t refuse. 

He nods, “With you.” He gulps, waiting for the tell-tale crinkle of Satoru’s nose to tell him when to release the burning coil in his gut. Satoru could tell that he was waiting for him, his thrusts to your cunt menacingly rough. It only takes a few more before his nose crinkles and mouth drops open, cock twitching inside you fucked out cunt. 

Suguru gasps softly, his hot load spurting off like an erupting volcano, quickly filling you up and forcing the rest to ooze out around him despite how well he plugged your hole. Satoru’s seed spills out into you like a dam had been holding him back, both sensations so warm and messy and delicious that you moan softly at just the feeling, head spinning as it falls back onto Geto’s shoulder with heavy breaths. 

Gojo slumps forward slightly, kissing your jaw with the most tenderness he had displayed all night. “I knew you could do it, hot stuff. That was fucking amazing.” He hums, fishing for an article of clothing to put under you. He finds Suguru’s shirt, and raises up enough to slide it under you with Geto’s help. They couldn’t have you staining the couch, now. Gojo slides out of you, leaving you on Suguru’s comfortable lap. The black haired man smiles at you sleepily, pushing some of your hair out of the way. 

“Yeah, it was, we hope you had a good time?” He hums as Satoru goes to stop  the recorder. 

You giggle and nod. “Yeah, yeah I did. I guess it’s time to get cleaned up and back to my place, for as long as I still have it.” You chuckle dryly, your entire body was a pile of mush, and you couldn’t move if you tried. You just didn’t want to overstay your welcome or make your problems their responsibility, despite their eagerness to take care of you. 

Satoru comes back with three bottles of water and a sheepish look on his face, an oddity for him. “I may or may not have forgotten to press record.” He says with a slight grimace, handing out the waters as an apology. Your amusement is clear, and you wonder if he did it on purpose.

Suguru laughs, and he can’t figure out if it’s at you or Satoru. “Hm, what a predicament. You’re not going anywhere.” He squeezes your hips and lifts you off his length, setting you back in his lap regularly. “We’ll get you cleaned up, and then you don’t have to worry a hair on your pretty little head about your place. You can stay here.” He said matter of factly, his arm hangs possessively around your waist. 

Gojo hums. “We could use a sweet lady like you. We’ll make up for that year of faked orgasms.” He winks and takes a swig of water. They make a convincing argument, and with the way Satoru wipes the pearls of cum off your legs and the way Suguru carries you in his arms to start a shower, you have no doubt that they will take care of you.

[jaketsparrow]

SOMETHING... | JTK

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f! Reader

Word Count: 10.6K

Summary: When you have to say goodbye to your professor and mentor, a cocky young professor steps in, Jacob Kiskza. Literature used to be your safe place, but now you feel him getting involved in every corner; it doesn’t help that you’re his TA. You deny yourself every opportunity to fall for him until…

A/N: Hi guys :) I know it’s been forever since I’ve put something together and I apologize about that, but this is life. This one has been on my mind since the Grammy U interview and I finally had the idea to put it all together. I hope you enjoy :) 

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*Also I'm so sorry I lost my tag list so if you want to be tagged here's a new form* Taglist

MINORS DNI

MENTIONS OF/ TW: Sexual content (of course), talks about death/grief, angst, swearing, Dom! Jake, restraints, possible orgasm denial, choking, alcohol use, fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, ~some~ degrading, praise kink!, I’m sorry if I missed anything, but, etc, it’s filth. 

The classroom was cold in the early months of the year. You had gotten in the habit of wearing your coat through the 3-hour seminar. You were lucky that this class only ran once a week, but you often had to stay longer than the students, working with the professor for a few hours afterward. He was always elusive. Always eager to get things done as fast as possible; efficient and snappy. 

There was much to admire about him, but his personality often left you rolling your eyes. He always seemed a bit too sure about himself, always being the tough grader, pushing students further than they were willing to go. He cared a lot, especially about the subject matter. He still had that gusto in him to do things right, to be stern. 

He was new to the program; and before this, only about a year into teaching. You studied under his predecessor. She was a kinder old woman who cared deeply for you, like your mother away from home. She taught you everything- and even got you to change majors during your sophomore year. She supplemented your reading supplies, nurtured your abilities, and was always willing to sit in deep conversation with you. Discussing the classics, introducing modern pieces, talking about life, talking about it all. 

Professor Kiszka on the other hand… 

When he took over for Professor Meelo, he took very little time to rip the bandaid off. When you had originally been promised a TA position in the literature department, you were expected to be under your mentor, not a cocky white man. 

You spent weeks crying during winter break after first meeting him. The day you met him didn’t go exactly as you hoped. It was the week of finals when you found out Meelo was sick, and that she was stepping away from teaching. As if finals week wasn’t stressful enough, you had to come to terms with the fact that the woman who taught you everything was going to be leaving this world sooner than you would’ve thought. It was even more of a punch in the gut to walk into your introduction meeting to see… him. 

3 Months Ago

The walk across campus felt heavier than usual. The winter had been harsher than it usually was in early December. The wind whipped across your bare rosy cheeks, causing freezing tears to slowly fall out of the corners of your eyes. Almost like a bad omen, the weather continued to get worse as you sludged your way across the quad. 

The parking lot was nearly a mile away from campus, which was nice during the warmer months; the trees would sway across the crosswalk, blessing the sidewalk with fallen flowers and leaves. The grass was green and lively, a welcome mat onto a wonderful learning home. Between the cracks of the stone walkways, little dandelions would grow. You never understood the people who thought them to be unnecessary weeds. They were bright and yellow lively plants, and when the time of beauty passed, they passed their good wishes onto you. Blowing what once were vibrant petals into the wind. Who knew you’d miss the weeds on your walks?

Instead, now the stones were smeared with remnants of snowy footprints, broken earth that had been cracked through with the force of shovels, and the remnants of the dead earth.

Meelo called you just last week. You begged to go see her in the hospital, but she didn’t want you to worry too much. She agreed to call you every other day, just like your usual coffee arrangements. She loved them just as much as you did. She never had a husband or any children. Her students were her children, her soul was fed enough through changing lives that she didn’t want to take away that love from her students or prevent any child from feeling all of it. You were not the first to bear their soul in her office, but you might be one of the last. 

Meelo begged you to go meet the new professor. You had tried to rescind your TA position, but she blocked you at every chance she got. Even while in hospice she still managed to look out for you…

“Please, sweetheart. I know it’s not easy. But he’s young, he’s smart, I think you’ll have a lot in common with him,” She pleaded through the phone. 

“But he’s not you. I just, I thought… I thought I’d have more time…” Your voice trailed off. 

You tried to hold the phone away from your face, trying not to distress her more with the sounds of your whimpers and tears. 

Her voice started again, “You never know what you will learn from him. You have more time with me, but there comes a time when a teacher must share her students for them to learn more. If we stayed in our echo chamber together my dear I’m afraid you wouldn’t learn everything you need to know. Jacob is going to be a great professor, and I know you will learn a lot from him. His research and analysis work is quite extensive. The school and I hired him for a reason. Please. Just give it a try. For me.”

“Just for you.” 

And here you were trudging through, feeling every bone in your body telling you to turn around, to go home. But you were doing this not for you, you reminded yourself. For Meelo. She was right, you latched on to her from your early years in college and favored her over all of your other professors. They were kind and nice as well, but it didn’t matter to you in the end, if they weren’t Meelo, they were never going to compare. 

The building seemed colder than usual. The large glass windows were covered by their shades; no one wanted to see the gross state of life outside of the classroom. That’s hardly motivating to any student, the fluorescents would give more life than the grey state of the weather. 

You pull the door open, walk through the entryway, and follow your usual path down the hallway to Meelo’s room. 

The thing about old colleges, everywhere you turn is a little piece of history. Each room has housed many professors and many students. The building had life, had ghosts of its own hidden in each brick, in each stone. You felt the comfort of this presence moving through the hallway. 

You stop right before Meelo’s room, catching your breath before you enter. Trying to have an open mind. Kiszka could be something, or he could just be another man throwing words at you. Not that all men were the same, but a majority of the male professors here were lackluster, favoring the male students and the athletes who needed the better grades to stay in the school. And if they favored the women… You always felt a cold chill thinking about that. Thinking about why…

One last deep breath before you enter the classroom. You grab tight onto the handle of your tote bag and strut confidently into the room. 

It was empty. 

The beautiful artwork and posters that Meelo had filling the room were stripped. Revealing the natural state of the architecture. It was beautiful in its own way but didn’t feel like the educational home you once felt so blessed to be in. The desks were all shoved to one side of the classroom. The previous welcoming U-shape was demolished, instead providing a cluttered destruction of Meelo’s work. 

You stood awestruck in the shape of the room. There was no time wasted between Meelo leaving and Kiszka starting to make his mark on the room. The bookshelves that used to be filled in the back of the room had been emptied and their contents sat on the floor in boxes.

You walk over to the boxes, kneeling to gently sift through the carelessly placed books. This was Meelo’s library that she had collected for the classroom. Take a book, leave a book, borrow a book, bring it back. You loved visiting this wall every week, seeing what books your peers were interested in, and which books made their way into the library. Some new, and some returning after long months away. 

Sitting on top of the box was the classic “Brave New World”. Aldous Huxley. 1932. Not an original copy, but a new binding. It was like the universe was sending you signs. This would be a brave new world. A world where you might have to come to terms with the fact that Meelo would not be in your life forever.  A world where you might have to figure out everything with a new mentor. A world where you thought you would have years to work on your pieces with a woman who understood you, but now you would turn over your heartfelt pieces to a man. One who may not understand you the same as someone else does.

“A favorite of yours?” A voice perks up from the doorway. 

You turn to see him. Your eyes work your way up his figure. He’s wearing Chelsea boots, black thick linen pants, a white loose shirt with a black vest, and a dress coat over it. His chestnut hair lays over the shoulders of the coat, and his eyes are covered by circular gold-rimmed sunglasses. He oozes mystery. His arms crossed, surveying your crouched body by the boxes. You hate to admit it, but he may be one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. 

You hold up the book towards him, displaying the cover. 

“Not particularly. I don’t like thinking about the takeover of technology. It feels too real right now.” You respond. 

He wanders over to you, taking his time, each step creating the most annoying echo in the emptied classroom. He reaches his hand out to yours, asking silently for the book. You hand it over to him and stand to match his level. 

He passes the book between his hands, admiring the binds, “Ah, yes, but perhaps something can be learned from the book if more understood its warning… if only more read it…”

“If only…” You let the conversation trail off. Your eyes wander back to the pile of desks on the opposite wall. You feel yourself zoning out, focused only on the change of the room, not on the man in front of you. 

“-Your favorite?” He asks. 

You snap back to the conversation, trying to recall the beginning of his question, “I’m sorry? 

“If this is not your favorite, can I ask which is?” He waves you to walk with him. 

You follow him into the office at the back of the classroom. He sits in Meelo’s chair, and you sit in the chair that had held you so many times. You wouldn’t be surprised if the cushion had a you-shaped imprint in it at this point. 

He asks a third time, “You don’t seem like the Jane Eyre or Louisa May student, so what is it?” 

You let your bag fall off your shoulder and you try to sit up in the chair, asserting some sort of professionalism. Your answer will hold some sort of judgment for him. Although you want to be offended by his comment about the female author’s classics, he’s right. They were never your favorite. 

“Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Meelo gave it to me as my first assignment.” You respond, confident in your answer. 

He nods in approval, “Lovely choice, very telling. Meelo said you were very bright–one for the classics.” 

He leans back in his chair, stroking his chin. His hand reaches up to the gold-rims and pulls them off, clattering onto the desk. He pulls himself towards the desk, resting his elbows on the table. 

“Are you going to ask me mine?” He asks, almost presumptuously. 

You fight back the urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he has to find a way to be important here. You adjust yourself in your seat, crossing your arms in the process. 

“If you want me to know, why don’t you just say it?” You retort. 

He chuckles to himself, “Lord of the Rings.” 

Your mouth falls so far open that you’re afraid a fly might buzz its way in. You lift your hand to your mouth and try to hide your disapproval.

“That’s a classic for sure.” You reply, “Not one I would’ve expected from a college literature professor, but a classic nonetheless.”

He pushes himself off the desk, running his hands through his long locks before they make their way onto the arms of the seat. 

“You don’t approve?” He scoffs. 

“I didn’t say that, I just said it’s not one that I would expect.” 

“I believe there is a difference between a personal and professional favorite. A favorite you could read over and over again, and you could enjoy without having to think too much about what it all means. it’s an adventure, its heroes and legends, it’s a call for relaxation and enjoyment. I’d rather have my favorite be a well-known classic than a deep thought-provoking story about purity.”

You fight every urge in you to slap the man sitting before you for disgracing such a beautiful novel. But you think about Meelo. You think about stepping outside of the echo chamber. 

“I think we may have different opinions on favorites, Professor Kiszka.” You say shortly. 

You feel the tension grow between you already. This would be a difficult semester. Even more difficult because as you felt your dislike for him grow, you couldn’t stop staring at the beautiful man sitting in front of you. His brown eyes stared deep into you, trying to assess his new assistant. You tried not to let him in too far. You were not fawning for him, at least you weren’t trying to. You wanted to fight off the growing warmth crying to spread through you. It was like seeing a handsome stranger in the bar; you knew the danger, but almost didn’t want to let yourself protect your heart. 

He was by far the youngest professor here, and the most eligible. No ring was on his finger. 

“Please, call me Jacob.” 

You stood up from your seat, throwing your bag over your shoulder. You try to compose yourself enough not to let any distaste escape from your lips. 

“Sorry, Professor Kiszka, I have finals I need to finish, it was a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to working with you in January. If you need anything from me before then, I believe the dean gave you my information.”

You reach your hand out awkwardly, trying to invite a handshake. He cautiously reaches his hand back, pulling you into a firm, but still gentle handshake. 

His eyes meet yours. The deep brown staring into you. Although you should have the power from your standing position, you knew he held all the cards from his seat. The handshake lingered longer than you had expected, both of you locked deep into staring each other down. He finally releases his hand. 

“It was a pleasure.” You start to leave the office, but he makes one last remark, “Oh, one last thing…” 

You turn to face him, “Yes professor?”

 He reaches into the desk and pulls out a cloth-bound book, handing it to you. You slowly return to the desk, taking the book from his hand—the Lord of the Rings. 

“Try it for me? You do have a whole winter break…”

You rub your hands over the cover, smiling at his request. You place the book back in his hand.

“I used to read it as a child. No need to give it a try when you’ve read it four times already.” You smile at him. 

Even if it wasn’t your favorite, didn’t mean it wasn’t a favorite. 

Present

In some ways, your relationship with him felt like a love-lost marriage. Just moving through the motions. You sat in on the classes and took note of who engaged, and who didn’t. You graded assignments, tests, and papers, with him always double-checking and doubting your work. You didn’t sit in on long conversations with him like Meelo. Perhaps some of that was your fault, always quick to get to work. He adjusted to you quickly, understanding how you needed to work, and letting you grieve. 

Meelo passed quickly into the semester. You cried once in front of him when the news broke. You nearly snapped his head off when he asked if he could help you. From that moment on he took on this cold persona, but you don’t blame him at all. You knew in your heart that you would not have the same connection with him as Meelo, so it was easier to never try. 

Through everything, your work never faltered, and your school work remained the priority. Perhaps it was a way to hide through all the pain but the calculated steps it took to grade provided a soothing rhythm amongst the distress. 

You never failed to notice all the times you caught him catching glances at you. You were silly to think that it meant anything more than just a quick look, but still maybe somewhere in your heart, you had hoped that maybe he was thinking of you more than his assistant. For weeks you watched him stroll into class, always wearing a disheveled but somehow put-together outfit. You loved seeing how he would piece together different clothes from his collection. Never repeating an exact outfit, but always finding new ways to repurpose the same items. 

One day he walked in with a new addition to his look, a cluster of pendants on a necklace. They looked older, more worn in than any new silver. You asked him about it briefly, trying not to engage in a further conversation. 

“They’re coins, Spanish coins, designed after ones from the 1600s. I think the jeweler lied to me when he said they were originals, but they still look okay… Do you think so? 

“You look like a pirate.” You responded. 

A sexy pirate. You shoved that thought deep into the back of your mind. Holding on to it, because you didn’t want to forget how good he looked. 

His Thursday classes were always one of the better ones. This was one that you had to take yourself for your graduate program. There was no TA’ing involved as that would be a huge conflict of interest if you got to grade your papers. You chose to sit in the back corner of the class by the window, in hopes that when spring rolls around you could watch the foliage return. The unfortunate thing about this choice was the waiting. February was colder than you had expected and the windows provided no warmth. 

When you were TA’ing you got to sit at the edge of the office and the classroom. Kiszka brought a space heater for you to place at the doorway. He joked he didn’t need his assistant ‘freezing to death’, because then ‘who would grade the papers’.

You tried your hardest to not let him favor you, but you knew he was someone who would be kind no matter how much you asked him to stop. He would leave books on the edge of his desk for you to read and when you tried to return them he declined and told you he already had a copy in his collection. You doubted that and always protested in fear that you thought you might lead him on. But in the end, it was always you walking out with a new book in your bag. 

He was trying his hardest to get along with you. Some days it was easier and you would entertain his questions, but other days it was easier to be quick and move along. This relationship was not going to be a fairytale. You had already found your soulmate once, and you lost her. In your mind, there was no more room in your heart to let someone in. And why should you prepare space for someone if you truly don’t know if they want to be there? 

This class although interesting became boring as the weeks went on. The class had fallen into a seasonal depression of sorts. Many like you had expected to have Meelo for the semester when you had booked your classes, so when Kiszka showed up and tried to shake things up… It wasn’t easy. He was skilled and smart, sure… But not the same. He craved involvement and wanted the class to join in with him, but often would push people further than they were willing to go. A room full of mid-20-year-olds was truly a space of burnout. Many of these students had already passed four, sometimes five years of school before they stepped into this class. They no longer have that lively interest in reading and analyzing literature but want to create their own.

“-And what was this author trying to convey through his use of metaphors?...” He asked from his commanding space at the front of the class, “No one?... No one picked up on this…? Or are you too scared to be wrong?”

Your attempts at fighting off eye-rolls also subsided the longer this course went on, and this roll came on hard. You’ve heard this line countless times through multiple classes. He wasn’t wrong, but he could at least find different ways to say the statement. 

“Y/N? Care to enlighten everyone?” He calls to you, in need of saving the class who had lost attention nearly an hour ago. 

“Sure. It’s a metaphor for how women are treated in society.” You answer.

He grits his teeth and sighs, “Not quite, but you’re close…” 

You lift yourself from your slump, “No, that’s right. She is clearly trying to convey the expectations of women in society and how we are treated. As a female author, she leaves these metaphors to be very simple for female readers to understand. For males, it’s harder to grasp that the severity of these situations could imply the treatment of women, but that’s what she’s trying to explain.”

He clasps his hands together giving them a brief shake, “That class, that is how you analyze. Literature can be read in different ways by different readers. The author may have a clear intention of what they are trying to write, but others may be able to relate it to other aspects of their life. I have my own interpretation, and you all may have others. That is how this should be working. There is nothing wrong, with how you analyze, just that you have the knowledge to back it up…”

Every time you tried to make him out to be the bad guy, he ended up being in the right. You hated how smart he was. You hated how much you wanted to watch him while he stood up there. You hated how he wasn’t her. But you knew you didn’t want him to leave. 

“So with that,” He continues, “Finish up the last few chapters and please come prepared with statements next week about your findings. I want you to dig deep; feel the author. I’ll see you next week.” 

The class starts their shuffle for the door, while you meander to your usual spot at the doorway of the office. The next class wouldn’t be in for 20 minutes, but you would at least have time to warm up. 

You click on the heater and walk over to Kiszka’s rolling desk chair. You take your coat off and rest it over the seat, pushing it over to the door. Kiszka finds his seat at the front of the classroom, pulling out his book of the week. He usually would try to follow you, asking you what you were reading, then the next day showing up to class with an identical copy. It was annoying and endearing how much he wanted to learn from you. You wondered if it upset him that you weren’t as keen on learning from him. 

He confided in you that Meelo was an idol of his as well, and although he didn’t get to learn from her, he was going to try to through you. 

You pull your copy of Anna Karenina from your bag and join him. Your chapters ahead of him, but you enjoy being one step in front of him. 

You peep up from the back of the room, “I didn’t ask, but please tell me this isn’t your first time reading this.” 

He lifts his head from the book slightly, eyes still skimming the page, “Third.” 

You sigh in relief. That would’ve been embarrassing; for him. 

You return to the book. You’re finding it harder to dive in today than usual, something is different… You see out of the corner of your eye that Kiszka has put down the book altogether, and you can sense him staring. This lasts a few moments, but you try to remain focused on the words, but catching yourself having to re-read the paragraphs; not processing the sentences you’ve already read.

A minute goes by and he hasn’t returned to his pages. Instead, you hear the squeak of his chair rolling over to his computer. A few clicks and a frenzy of taps on the keyboard. 

“Hey.” He prods. 

You look up again from the book. He peers at you over the edge of his computer and then closes it so he can see you better. He grasps his jaw lightly, stroking it in his hands. 

“Yes?” You asked, trying not to seem annoyed by the interruption. 

“Let’s go over your manuscript. I want to see it.” He continues. 

No. It’s not time yet. You’ve been meticulously editing it for months now. He wasn’t supposed to read it until midterms, you were supposed to have more time…

You drop the book into your lap, “It’s not ready…” You close the book, “Also we have class in twenty minutes, you won’t be able to read it all by then.” 

He stands up from his seat, straightening his vest out, “I canceled class. Pull it out.” 

Two Hours Later

Some time had passed. You both sat in his office now. Him at… his… desk, and you still positioned by the heater at the door. At this point you were warm enough to finally take your sweater off, stripping down to a simple black t-shirt. You saw him staring through the pages when you pulled the sweater off. If he had looked any harder you think he might burn a hole through the book.

The office was silent except for the occasional click and clack of the heater, and the flickering of the candle on his desk. He flipped through the lightly bound pages while you continued through your reading. Every couple of minutes you could hear the stroke of his red pen hit the pages. The words or corrections will wait for you later. You could sit and scoff at them later in your apartment. The man said his favorite book was Lord of the Rings, how could you possibly trust his editorial judgment?

You had made it about a hundred or so pages through your book, which was slower than you would’ve liked. You still couldn’t breach the interferences. You thought the silence would help, but hearing his hums, his pen strokes, the occasional sip of scotch… It was all a distraction. 

You couldn’t stop looking up from the book to watch him slyly admire your work. You knew your writing was good; Meelo had seen the early stages of it all. She heard the direction and loved every word… A complete sadness rushed over you thinking of how she would never see the final product. 

Kiszka would adjust himself every few minutes; switching positions in his seat. You wanted to trust yourself enough not to look every time he shifted his hips, but those linen pants he loved so much left little to wonder about him. You had a closeness to him that you didn’t want to admit. As many differences as there were between you, there were just as many similarities. He was an outsider here; you could see that clearly. The other professors didn’t trust him because of his age- the students tried to walk all over him because of that too. 

Even though you wanted to hate how pretentious he seemed, deep down you knew it was a facade to seem more studious to others. You saw the real him in glimpses. The kindness he offered to you that many others most likely wouldn’t have. Your youth and love for literature matched his perfectly, although you couldn’t always find the way to express it correctly. Your loyalty to Meelo prevented that at every chance. 

Letting him read this manuscript was a big step that you didn’t fully even realize until he had reached the halfway point. You wanted to go and rip the pages out of his hand, throw them out the window, prevent him from seeing you too deeply… But something inside you needed to know what he thought of it. 

Frustrated by your lack of progress, you lowered the book into your lap. You took this time to look around the room. It had changed so much since you had seen it back in December. Kiszka’s library had taken up the room, along with his record collection. When you would come by early in the morning to drop off the graded work, you would hear him playing some of it. Blues, rock, the classics. You never disturbed him during these times, it felt too intimate to interrupt. Instead, you would place the binder of essays on his classroom desk and scurry away before he could come to say hello. 

You place your bookmark into the page opening. You calmly stand and place the book where you once sat. Quietly, you make your way over to his collection.  

You see him peer up through the pages. Curious about your movements, watching you silently behind the manuscript. 

You lower yourself to the floor, sifting through the jackets of the vinyls. Alphabetical. Of course. You make your way quickly through the a’s and land through the b’s. As cliche as it seems, you truly love Abbey Road, and of course, there it is front and center with the other Beatles albums. You pull it out from the shelf, removing the jacket carefully from the sleeve. You lift the vinyl out and place it on the record player. It’s a modern one, which feels very out of character for Kiszka. He always seemed like the type to randomly have every item of his be nothing newer than 20 years old. 

You press play and lower the needle onto the music. 

Come Together plays softly through the speakers. You turn to look back at him, seeing if there is any protest. Instead, he has the red pen out, slashing across the paper. You grit your teeth and try not to engage. You return to his collection, running your fingers along the remainder of the vinyl. The plastic tickles through your fingers, creating a click, click sound as each jacket releases from your hold. 

Although you did want Kiszka to keep reading, you felt it was necessary to distract him, to try and persuade him to step away…

You continue from the vinyl collection, traipsing through the room. It’s like a library out of a movie, truly. You admired his office deeply and loved to gaze at it while he was lecturing. Sometimes when he was deep in his philosophy of literature speeches, you would lean back in the chair and try to read the book titles from afar. Your eyesight was good, but not good enough to make out the exact names of all of them. You never dared to peruse like this before, but this moment presented the perfect opportunity. 

You were his captive for the remainder of his reading. Well… In all reality, you didn’t have to be here, but you didn’t dare leave that manuscript alone. It had been stored with you in your tote for the past month. You tried to take chunks of edits at a time, working through it yourself when you had time but didn’t want to share it with anyone until you felt that it was complete. 

You tried to fight Kiszka off, but the notion of him canceling class meant that he found taking the time to do this very important… 

The books that were displayed on these shelves were not the type of books that you would find at your local bookstore. They were older, worn in, some of them originals, even some you haven’t read yet. Maybe he did have some things that he could show you…

 You make your way to the last set of bookshelves, rounding the back corner of the office. The last edge of the wall had his makeshift bar. 

The liquor was all dark, amber-colored. Very manly, you thought to yourself. Bottles of whiskey and scotch lined the makeshift bar. Jack Daniels, Sazerac Rye, Macallan Double Cask… You recognized some of the labels. 

Kiszka crept up behind you, “If you wanted a glass, you could’ve asked.” 

He reaches down below you to fetch a rocks glass from the bar. He grabs the Macallan Double Cask and pours a finger for you. The alcohol flows effortlessly out of the bottle, barely splashing into the glass.  He hands the glass to you, your hand brushing his. His touch is warm… Kind. He takes his other hand and grabs your shoulder, in a comforting way. You want to seem completely normal, but feel your cheeks getting rosy from the touch. You suck on your bottom lip and try to hide your face. 

You take a large swig of the scotch, trying to be mindful of not wasting such a good drink. He looks at you, shocked at your ability to take it so easily. 

“Wow. Good.” Is the only words he can mutter. 

You smile meekly. The praise makes you feel undoubtedly shyer than you had just before. 

“Are these originals?” You ask, pointing to the corner section of his library, “I couldn’t tell, and didn’t want to touch them if they were.”

“Many of them, yes,” He responds, “I trust that you would be gentle with them, please, which one were you curious about?” 

You make your way over to the shelf, placing your drink down on the small table near the corner. You reach up to fold out the red bound book. Its title was completely faded from the binding, but we’re curious as to which one it was. He follows closely behind you, close enough to almost be on you. 

He laughs, “Funny you should grab that..” 

You open the cover to find Lord of the Rings printed in big black letters. 

“Oh, dear god.” You sigh. 

“It is an original if that makes you feel any better about it. I know you hate this book, but still-”

“No, no,” You protest, “I never said I hated it, I just said it wasn’t my favorite. Remember we have different opinions on that professor.” 

He scoffs and takes the book from your hand. Rubbing the cloth binding with his thumbs.

“Want to know something funny?” He questions. 

You did. You really did. You wanted the connection at this moment… For whatever cosmic reason it finally felt okay to banter with him. You nod your head, approving him to continue. 

“I saw the movies before I read the books.” He laughs, “My brothers and I loved it, we were practically obsessed, but I was younger then and a stupid boy who didn’t read like I do now. Not the fairytale way most people find their favorite but it reminds me of childhood…”

You wanted to laugh, you wanted to make fun of him for it. But you knew that this was a special moment for him. A look into his past, a presentation for more. He places the book carefully back on the shelf, tucking it back into its spot. 

“Well, I guess that makes more sense now. But, as a graduate professor, you ought to just say you like the pretentious shit. No one’s going to take you seriously.” 

He turns from the shelf, “Who said I was worried about that? If I lie then I am a fraud. I don’t care if anyone says that.” 

Oh fuck. His confidence is so intoxicating. He’s right. Why should he care? 

“I just- I meant… I thought that the other professors-” 

“You thought that they don’t take me seriously? Right. They don’t. In schools like this, you have to earn respect. I’m not an alumnus, I didn’t go to Harvard, but I do a damn good job at what I do. As much as you may protest some of my teaching, I know what I’m doing.”

He breezes past you and strolls back over to the bar to pour himself another drink. You reach back for yours and hold it between your hands, trying to collect yourself. You hope that you didn’t hurt him. 

“Did I offend you?” You ask.

“‘Course not,” He takes a swig, “I just wish you would realize that it doesn’t matter what standards others hold you to. You are not someone else. You are you.” 

“I know that.” You respond dryly. Your answer didn’t sound as confident as you wanted it to be. It came out unsure and desperate. 

“Then why has your whole academic career been based on your relationship with one woman? Why must everything you do be for her?...” 

You stand there silently. Completely struck with emotions. Anger, sadness, discouragement.

“She… She made me who I am,” You pipe, “She’s the reason I am in this program.” 

He strolls back over to you, locking your eyes with his. It’s intimidating, this look he has on his face. He’s studying you, seeing how lost you feel. Truly for the first time you couldn’t even try to put up any walls. He had broken you down. 

He places his hand on your shoulder again, “Can I show you something?” He asks. 

Before you have time to even object to him, his hand moves from your shoulder to your waist, guiding you back towards his desk. You feel butterflies growing inside you. 

No. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He is your advisor. He is not someone you should feel this way about. He’s trying to help you, he’s not interested in you. 

The vinyl finishes its song and moves on to Something. He guides you into his seat. You place the glass down on the desk and wipe the condensation from your hands onto your thighs. He reaches over the desk and twirls the manuscript back in front of you. The pages sit open about two-thirds of the way through. He stands behind you, practically leaning on your back. His chest rests against your shoulder, pointing at the beginning of the page. 

“See this paragraph here?” He questions. 

You strain so hard to not melt at his touch. His hair is grazing your cheek. It smells wonderful, but you can’t admit that. He has this gentle but clean musk about him. He smells like a perfectly cared-for bookstore. A soft smell of tobacco and oak. The chains with pendants are draping over his neck, sparkling in the moonlight of the night, softly clanking together with his movement 

You need to focus. 

You respond, afraid that you waited too long, “Yes?” Your voice wavers, the lack of confidence creeping back through, “Is there something wrong with it?” 

He turns to face you, “Yes. I have a big problem with it.” 

You feel your heart sink. What could be wrong with it? The back half of the book is the best part, it is the part you feel most confident with. You feel confused. All of those walls and confidence you felt once in his presence were lost. 

“What…? What problem?” 

You look back at the pages, disregarding his closeness to you, pulling the bundle of paper back towards you, and flipping through to the previous pages. He puts his hand on yours, stopping you from searching. He lowers himself next to the seat, squatting to be at your eye level. His thumb wanders back and forth over your wrist. 

He smiles a crooked and cunning smile, “It’s some of the best writing I’ve seen in years, and the author was too scared to even share it with anyone. She lost someone and had to do this all on her own. That’s terrifying, but it’s still her work. ” 

You look at the hand holding yours. It’s strong but has a softness to it. It has a few rings sitting on them, but none a wedding band. You lower your head and release your wrist, grabbing it with your other hand. You sigh heavily and grasp your hands in front of the pages. Your hands travel up to hide your face, which presents a melancholic smile that you can’t let go of. You can’t tell if it’s the liquor or his presence, but you feel a glow coming from inside. 

You rush your hands past your face and through your hair, resting your hands on the back of your neck. Scoffing, you turn to look at him. His amused smile is irresistible. 

“You,” He starts, “Are an amazing writer.” His hand lifts from the pages and reaches up towards your cheek, holding your face in his palm, “And no matter who your teacher is, you can still do it on your own.”

Your hand finds its way up to his arm, holding him back. Staring longingly at each other. Both deep down knowing that this was about to lead down a path you couldn’t return from. 

“Professor-” You initiate.

“Jacob.” He replies. 

“Fine… Jacob. This- I… I don’t think.” 

He quickly removes his hand from your face and comes to his senses. “Oh, dear, um… I’m so sorry y/n… I…”

You let yourself slump in the seat. How could you? How could you squander that moment? After years of wishing to find a man who was at least half as interested in literature as you… Here you are throwing it away. But you could be right to do so. He was your professor, you were his assistant, the moral implications of this all… 

Jacob stands and leans back onto the desk, stroking his chin, concerned. Thinking about it all. You can see the nerves climbing through him. He feels embarrassed.

You reach your hand up to your face again, burying your emotions into your skin. 

“I just thought- I, fuck.” He continues, “I thought we were turning a corner, I was looking and I thought I saw you-” 

“You did.” You respond, “...I was looking.”

You lower your hand from your face to stare back at him. You put the manuscript back on the desk and stand. 

“You… You were?” He searches for the answer. 

“Jacob… For months I have looked. I didn’t want to like you. I didn’t want to admit that to myself. My mentor was my heart and soul, she was everything to me. I didn’t want to give you any chances because I didn’t want to lose someone like that again… I can’t handle that heartbreak. But…” You trail off. 

“But?” He inquires. 

You reach for the scotch glass and swirl the liquid around. Staring deep into the stormy amber. 

“Fuck it.” You take the last of the scotch into your mouth and turn back to Jacob, “You… You are what I’ve wanted. I can’t deny the way I feel when it’s just us. When I see you deep in thought, when you push me to go further; when you challenge me. When we’re alone, and I see you for the man you are. When I see how genuinely fucking amazing you are. And I’m so mad at myself for not opening myself to you.” 

Jacob peels himself off the desk and stances himself in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them tenderly in his. You drop your head, your hair falling over your frustrated expression. 

“You were grieving, you wouldn’t have been ready for this.” He reaches his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear. 

You look up to him with doe eyes. He was the older man, coming in for the prey. You wanted to be his. You wanted to have him. You wanted it. You denied it for months. You denied it from the moment you saw him. You denied yourself to knowing him in fear that this exact moment would happen. But here you were. Unveiling yourself to him in the very place you felt the first attraction. 

“I want to be ready. No, I am ready. I want this. I can’t deny myself happiness because of everything that happened,” You said. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. Trying to test you. 

You nod your head in approval, trying once again to keep the emotions bottled in. 

“I don’t want you to feel any pressure because-”

“Please don’t say it. I know. I know this is all morally fucked up, but I’m an adult, you’re an adult. Just treat me like one.”

He smiles, admiring your maturity, “If you want to do this, there are some things we have to settle first.” 

You look up at him confused, “Things? What things?” 

“More like rules,” He answers, titling his head playfully, “I need to know what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to scare you even more than you already seem.” 

He returns his hand to hold your face, just like he previously had only moments before.

“I’m not scared Jacob. What rules?”

“As much as I like to be gentle with women, I also enjoy being rough.” He says through a velvety tone

You jolt back, at first fearful of his words, but relax quickly, reminding yourself you don’t need to be scared. 

“How rough are we talking…” You prod. 

The cunning smile returns across his face, “Don’t worry, I don’t leave marks, at least too bad of marks… And only rough enough that you’ll still be wanting more by the time we’re done.” 

You bite your lip at the thought. You’re no virgin at this point in your life, but you’ve never been able to explore this type of intimacy. Every man in college is practically an amateur at pleasuring women and even more so when it comes to exploration in sex. You’ve read plenty of books to know about the type of sex he was talking about. As much as you enjoyed the classics and the light-hearted romance, you still found yourself picking up a steamier romance book in private. 

You wanted that. Had practically dreamed about it before… 

Being here with this man, who was only a few years your senior, felt like you could practice this fantasy safely. He knew what he was doing, he could show you pleasures you didn’t even know you could enjoy. Even if you felt like you couldn’t learn more from your education with him, perhaps there were other things he could teach you. It was all becoming a bit too exciting. 

His hand moves slowly down from your cheek to your waist. His palms gently grazed your spine until they locked in on your love handles. 

“So,” He continues, “Are you going to be my good girl? Can you be good for me? Do you think you can take it?”

You reach out to his chest, moving aside his shirt which had barely been buttoned. With one swipe down his sternum, you unlatched all of them revealing his smooth golden skin. He watched you intently, seeing you explore his skin like never before. You traced your fingers along the opening, feeling your need to reach more grow. With each second that passed you felt the insatiable thirst to be close to him; to feel him. His grip on your waist tightened with each pass you made over his chest. 

His other hand joined him on your opposite side. You feared that your hips may break with his excited hold. You looked up at him, biting your lip, trying to remain coy. That soft smile appeared on his lips; you had answered with your body language. 

He pushes his hands further into you and lifts you onto the desk, your ass barely resting on the edge of the wood. 

“Words,” He said, pulling himself closer into you, resting perfectly between your legs, “Nothing’s going to happen until you tell me you want it to. This isn’t going to work sweetheart unless you use your words.”

“Jacob-” Are the only breathy words that you can mutter. 

You can feel him growing, feel the linen pants barely holding back his excitement. You feel your heartbeat travel from your chest, down into your stomach, into your… 

His hand moves up to your jaw, holding it firmly in his grip, “Y/N, follow the instructions. Words. I’m not going to wait much longer.” 

“Yes-”

Before you can even finish he’s pulling you into an embrace. Your lips meet his. The soft taste of scotch remaining on both of you created an intoxicating addicting feeling. It was complete passion, complete neediness to be one. His tongue introduces itself into your mouth… Soft, wet. Beckoning. The noises you both are making sound feral, completely unusual for the both of you. What once was a prim and proper relationship between you became a fervent desperation to touch… To fuck. 

His hands traveled down your body, first reaching your chest, grasping you completely in his hand. Rolling his palms over the front of your breasts, driving you completely mad. You wished the barriers of clothing had been completely stripped away, but he was too hungry to even keep you waiting for long. His hands reached under your shirt, plowing underneath the wire of your bra to find your naked breasts. A soft relieving moan escaped your lips through the breaths of the kissing. 

You reached your hands out to find the remainder of the buttons of his vest closing you off to his body. You made quick work of unbuttoning them, reaching your hands across his midsection; climbing to his back. Reaching up towards his shoulders, feeling the softness of his skin across the pads of your fingers. God, he was perfect. 

His fingers traveled to your nipples, running his thumb and forefinger over the bud of your nipples. Before you could even realize what you were doing, your nails dragged down his back, raking into his skin. He paused the kissing for a moment to let out a moaning growl. He slid his hands out from your bra, slipping down to the edges of your shirt, attempting to tug it off as fast as he could. You snatched your hands out of his shirt to raise them over your head, giving him complete access to strip you. 

He placed his hand between your breasts and forced you down onto the desk, your head falling onto the manuscript below you. He shook off his vest and was quick to pull his shirt off. 

“Seems like I’m not the only one who likes it rough, huh?” He asked. 

You lifted your head from the desk, “No, definitely not.” You responded. Unsure where this untamed version of you had even come from. 

“No, sir” He stated, pushing you back down. 

“What?” You asked, skeptical of what he meant.    

He mounted himself once again between your legs, grinding himself into you. He traced his finger down your neck, to the waistline of your pants.

“Sir… That’s what my good girls going to call me, okay?” 

You rolled your eyes, unaware that you were even doing so, “Call me Jacob,” you mock, “Call me sir.”

He reached back up to your jaw, pushing his thumb into your cheek, “If you’re going to be a brat we’re going to need to set some more rules. Good girls don’t get punished, but you’re already testing me.”

Completely stunned, you look back at him trying to emulate a softness, an apology. You had to admit though, you weren’t scared of him… If anything you were more turned on by the thought of his punishments. 

“And how would you punish me, sir?” You ask in your best sultry voice. 

He let out a low grumbling laugh. He studied your body, not even acknowledging your question, just thinking… Thinking of what he would do to you. He grabbed onto your hips and pulled you hard into his cock. There was no wondering anymore. You could feel how large he was, how excited he was. If your own body wasn’t blocking it you could probably see it entirely. 

“Maybe,” He starts, “Maybe you’re not going to be my good girl,” His hands dig deeper into your waist, “Maybe, you’re going to be my little slut.” 

The word echoed through the room. It sent a shiver down your spine, but not the feeling of being displeased, it was a feeling of being right. Being here with him, being under his control, felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders. He could see you in a way that someone hasn’t seen you for months. He was learning every inch of you and would learn even more as the night went on. 

He leaned down from his high position to plant gentle kisses along your neck. Gingerly leaving behind little reminders of passion. 

“-And if you’re going to be my slut,” He whines through breathy kisses, “you need to know the safe words.” 

You run your hands up to his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers. Tracing his scalp over your fingertips. You don’t want to go this slow, the breaks are killing you. You just want to feel him. You want to feel him on you, in you, taking you completely as his own. 

His kisses finally reach the band of your jeans, but that doesnt stop him from exploring further. He pulls down on the jeans to reveal more of your stomach, delivering gentle almost tickling kisses. 

“Green,” He whispers, “Means you like it… You don’t want me to stop.”

His hand travels over to the button of your jeans, popping the metal away from the denim. Your eyes follow him, watching his hair fall over your stomach, the metal of his necklace chilling your bare skin. His shoulders look strong here, masculine, powerful. Watching him focus so intently on you is killing you. This is a man unlike any other that you’ve been with, he’s focused on treating you first, even if there were some other pleasures in it for him. 

“Yellow,” The zipper slowly starts to unravel as he pulls your pants further down, “Means you need me to slow down… If you need a break…” 

Your pants steadily fall off of your legs, finally being exposed to him entirely until they fall onto the floor. The only thing separating you from him now is your thong. Which you are now praising yourself for wearing today. He resumes his consuming kisses across your midsection, joining back down where he had left off. His hands slip underneath him to grab the edges of the lace, sliding off the thong with ease. 

His kisses start to graze you closer to your… 

He stops and lifts himself. His hand leads up to your mouth, putting his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You accept them, excited for what it means. 

“Red.” His voice develops a more serious tone, “Means stop.” 

He removes his now slick fingers from your mouth, returning them down below. His fingers reach your cunt, and you welcome him with excitement of your own. Your body is in shambles waiting, wanting to know what it feels like. His fingers dance across your aching clit, his thumb padding the bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves through your deprived body. A loud distressed moan escapes you, you can’t help but express your enthusiasm. 

“Don’t worry sir,” You shudder through achy moans, “I don’t think I’ll need to use that one.”

“Good girl.”

Without any hesitation his fingers breach you, filling you up. He stands over you, watching you grow with the agony of pleasure. Your breath hitches with each pump, your back arching with each lift of his fingers. His thumb traces back over your clit, stimulating every inch of you. 

Every attempt at communicating the feeling faulters, except for, “Oh fuck-” 

Your body is shaking with each movement. He’s painting the perfect picture of an orgasm with just one hand. The power he holds, the knowledge he has. He knew how to please you better than you knew how to. 

His free hand makes its way around your neck, gripping it, holding you in place so he can work harder at you. You’ve never been choked before, it’s a completely new sensation. The gasps for air were something you thought you’d fear, but instead, you were wishing he’d hold on harder. 

“Green?” He asks, looking for permission. 

You nodded your head ferociously  

You feel yourself completely letting go under his control, something you feared once to let him have all the power. But here, now, held down to his desk… You never wanted it to stop. 

“Words.” He barked. 

Your hand reaches up to hold his wrist, “Yes, yes…” 

“Yes, what?” He asks again, his fingers slowing their movement. Clearly, he wouldn’t be letting you get away with anything. You had to be obedient and do as he told you.

“Yes… Please, Sir,” You beg. 

The words were getting harder to communicate. If he could finger you into oblivion, you might let him if it meant you could feel this good again. 

He smiled in approval and resumed his previous pace. Steadily building faster, and faster. Harder and harder. You could feel how wet you were becoming, it really didn’t take much for him to draw the excitement out of you. The swirls of his fingers and the vigor of his motions were precise… Calculated, trying to accomplish only one mission; and he was close to succeeding. 

Your moaning only got more frequent and louder, you couldn’t hold back. The pleasure was far too great to stay quiet. He almost let you be loud too, only for a few moments before reminding you of your location. He lifted his hand off your neck to lift a single finger to his lips and then pointed around the room. 

“If my good girl can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to make her. We don’t want anyone spoiling all the fun.”

You nod your head, remembering you were still in his office. Your surroundings had escaped you completely; only thinking of him and you. 

His thumb started to apply more pressure, practically begging for you for more. A softer moan forced its way out, helpless to be silenced. His hand plasters itself over your mouth, holding you silent. The pads of his fingers resting deep into your cheeks. 

“I know baby, it’s so hard… You’re gonna be so good and come for me now, okay?” 

Finally being relieved of speaking, you nod your head, ready for the climax. His fingers dive upward, grazing the sweet spot buried inside of you. The pressure, the sensation it’s all too much. You feel your belly tighten, your back arching. He’s trying to hold you steady as you writhe in pleasure. There’s no stopping anything now. 

“Do it baby, come on… Be a good little slut for me…”

Your eyes roll deep back into your head. You feel the sweet sensation of release wash over you. Like a wave of ecstasy, traveling from your toes, past your aching clit, through your belly, all the way to your head. Stifled moans slip through the cracks of his fingers. His fingers stay at their steady pace, pushing past your orgasm. You feel yourself dripping around him. You’ve never come this hard in your life, you’ve never felt the devotion to make you feel this good. Your body is quivering around him, unable to shake the overstimulation. You’re squeezing onto his wrist, trying to come down easy, but everything he’s doing is making the sensations crash into you. 

He takes his hand away from your mouth and you immediately gasp for air, trying to find serenity. 

“Oh god,” You moan, “How did you-”

He shuts you up by taking his mouth to your soaked cunt, sliding his tongue through the mess he made. You place your hands beside you to sit up slightly. This was a sight you did not want to miss. You take his hair in your hands and tuck it aside. Each stripe of his tongue makes you wince, you want him to stop, but you can’t let him. It feels too good. It’s too much but just the right amount all at once. 

He was consuming you, desperate to explore every inch of you. Wildly eating you up, trying to capture every last drop of his work. You were spilling into him, it was never-ending.  It was like you weren’t even there; everything except your pusy. This was a high that you never wanted to come down from. He was devoted to keeping you there as long as he could, but you couldn’t hold on for more. 

You fell back onto the desk, squirming through it all. He had you right where he wanted you. You let yourself fall into him, trying to take it all. Your hands reach over the desk, trying to find somewhere to hang onto, but instead knocking the scotch glass off the desk. Shattering loudly beneath you. 

Jacob didn’t stop though, he was completely distracted, locked in. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Yellow.. Yellow..” You begged, completely overstimulated and shocked. How could you even ask for that?... But it was impossible to withstand any more sensation. 

He stopped slowly, easing you out of the enjoyment. His hands reached up over your thighs and rested on your hips, slowly petting them with his thumbs. He looked up at you through glazed-over eyes, completely drunk on your arousal. He didn’t want it to end. 

Slowly raising himself back to a standing position, you could see how hard he had gotten. He felt just as much pleasure as you did. He was completely lost, coming back to reality. Chin dripping with your wetness… 

He leaned back over you and kissed you sloppily. The passion was more fiery than before. You did something to him and he did even more to you. It was strange to taste yourself on his lips, but exciting nonetheless. You were caught up together. Complete and one at that moment. And then it all stopped… 

Footsteps approached outside the classroom. You both stopped. He removed himself from your lips and raised his head to listen. 

A knock at the classroom door. 

“Hello?” Someone called out. 

There was no mistaking that someone was in this office, between the music, the glass breaking… They knew. 

“Everything okay in here Kiszka?” 

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He stands and reaches for his shirt, buttoning it with no haste. He grabs your shirt and pants and kicks them under the desk, “Go, get underneath the desk,” He whispers, “Now.”

[chibrary]

source: aarava on youtube series: f1, 2018

Aarava: What's your most embarrassing moment in your career? On-track, off-track, F1 or not.

Charles: Probably when I had to tell my mechanic at the end of my last Formula Renault race that I had peed in the seat. This was quite embarassing.

Aarava: I don't know how that conversation starts. “I've got something to tell you.” Right. So, we're in Italy so I have to ask a very important question. You know, a lot of people take a lot of solace in the answer to this question: pineapple on pizza. Yes or no?

Charles: No.

Aarava: No, okay. Marcus said yes, so I'm with you. 

Charles: Oh, no.

Aarava: He was going on about putting kebab stuff on the pizza. It was very weird, very weird. 

Charles: Probably some Swedish thing. 

Aarava: Yeah, I think it's Swedish tradition. So, social media these days in F1 is getting bigger and bigger and you're a really avid user of social media. How much does it kind of affect you on a week to week basis? Do you read much into what people say about you? Like, fans are saying about you on a race weekend or? 

Charles: I'm actually quite a bit on social media, I really like to interact with the people that are following me. Then, obviously, I think I am in quite a lucky position where people generally likes me. Hopefully it will last. Maybe some people will get angry now hearing this and start to hate me but yeah, no. I'm quite liked so I try to be as close as possible to the people that are following me.

Aarava: On that same kind of line: obviously, you're probably tired of hearing it, but on that same line, obviously, everyone keeps talking about what you gonna do in the future, you gonna, you know, have a stepping stone to Haas? When are you gonna go to Ferrari? How much does that wear you down? Like, do you get annoyed by the constant talk of it or do you kind of just blank it out? 

Charles: No, I mean, I understand that there are rumors, people want to know what's happening and obviously, when I was watching Formula One, I was also very impatient to know which drivers will move in which team. So I completely understand it. Yeah, I just hope that I will be able to let you know very soon.

Aarava: On another driver talk, you know, Ricciardo is going to Renault now, Alonso is retiring.. As a driver whose not like, I mean, you're a little bit involved, but do you read a lot into that? Like, do you take interest in what other people are doing?

Charles: Yeah, definitely. I mean, it's quite difficult to miss the news about Ricciardo going to Renault and Alonso stopping at the end of the year. But, yeah, of course. Yeah, I'm checking these also.

Aarava: Any funny moment with Marcus or previous teammates in lower categories or anything like that? Like pranks or just really funny moments, stand up moments?

Charles: It's difficult. I'm normally getting on very well with my teammates. So there are a lot of funny moments, to pick one is something difficult. 

Aarava: Okay. And obviously last weekend you can't get away from it: you got in a really horrendous crash with Alonso and lucky that he came out of it, really. What was the feeling like right when it happened? Like, was it just a blur really? 

Charles: Well, I just remember trying to downshift and, and go again on track hoping that there will be no damages. But unfortunately, obviously, I expected some damages and it was not possible to continue. So, just frustration really to not continue the race. 

Aarava: Your birthday is coming up later in the year. So obviously, if it's not on a race weekend, what would you usually do to celebrate your birthday? Like any kind of activities or a favorite meal or a favorite drink even to have on a night out? 

Charles: I'm quite boring, to be honest with nights out and parties and things like this. But honestly, I am, yeah, probably a bit of time with the family and friends and that's it basically. 

Aarava: Ok. Fair enough. It's a nice quiet night in. Maybe that Netflix question was quite on point.

Charles: Yeah, exactly. That, what I was going to say, probably it's on Netflix also.

Aarava: All you drivers post some really nice holiday photos over summer break. So, is there any place in the world where you haven't been yet where you want to go on holiday? 

Charles: I really like traveling. I really like the sun and the sea. So, probably all the parts of the world where I haven't gone where there are nice beaches. I will, I will try to go. 

Aarava: So, obviously we talked about your social media interaction, stuff like that and we talk about your fans as well. I think a lot of people wanna wonder, like, do you generally, like, actually look through your phone and like, actually see these tweets all the time and like, are you generally the one that's always kind of, you know, liking or responding like that because I know a lot of drivers might use management?

Charles: Yeah, I mean, I've had some propositions of people wanting to help me out with it, but I've never, and I will never, never want someone else to manage it. I mean, maybe someone could do it better but I prefer it to be a bit worse with myself doing it than somebody else. So it stays true and that it reflects myself more than the person that is writing a tweet for me.

[drunk-person]

Come Back (Modern au) P.6

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x cousin!reader

Summary: One of the most talked about gossips among the lower class servants in Kings Landing is the fact (or not) that Aemond Targaryen got involved with his cousin Y/n Targaryen when they were both teenagers. Mainly due to the fact that at the age of 17 she was sent to Old Town overnight. Some employees claim that Aemond was caught between her legs. Some say that, like her father, she had had a horrible fight with her uncle and aunt and was sent away. And other than that none of this happened, she just became interested in the course offered at the Old Town conservatory. But now five years later, Y/n Targaryen is back, and rumors haunt those who favor them.

This chapter is a part of a main story The gossip, you can find the previous chapter, summary and general tags by accessing the link.

Summary of the chapter: Every step taken in the past frighteningly alters the future, these are some of the steps Aemond and Y/n took.

Warnings of the chapter: 18+, family fights, dysfunctional family, mention of death of a secondary character and mourning, parental abandonment, pounds and pounds of teenage romance, teenagers being totally crazy and hormonal, teenagers discovering themselves, young love, no description for reader.

Word count: 8.094 k

A/n²: Let's go back a few years in time and see what was happening at the Targaryen mansion? Hope you like the new chapter, comments and suggestions are welcome 💕

"Hey hey kings landing, it seems that our dear Daemon Targaryen aka Prince Rouge is back in kings landing for the first time since the death of his wife Rhea Royce. Our sources say that he brought with him his 7-year-old daughter Y/n Targaryen, who was seen leaving a casino with her father at four in the morning about a month ago. Are the Targaryen siblings finally in harmony or are they still at odds?"

❦❦❦

For the first 6 years of her life Y/n Targaryen was raised in runestone with her mother, and she was very happy there, even with the constant fights between her father and mother. As a child she liked to think that the two loved each other even amidst the fights and all the bad things. As an adult, she wasn't so sure anymore.

Her father Daemon Targaryen came and went all the time, he never stopped at home, he was always traveling, and when he was there, there were fights, fights, and more fights. Y/n usually hid under the blankets and covered her ears with her little hands, but it did little to muffle her parents' screams, it was painful, and sometimes, without being able to understand at such a young age, she thought that maybe it was her fault for some reason.

When her mother died in a car accident, Y/n cried for hours alone next to the coffin, there was only her and her uncle who had come to take over the business now that Rhea had died. So small, so alone, she barely understood what was happening, but she knew she would never see her mother again.

After that, Daemon came to get her and took her with him, Y/n loved her father, but she had discovered that she didn't like being with him. He was always on planes traveling from one place to another, and it was different from how it was with her mother, she no longer had a home, she was always in hotels, moving almost weekly. The only good part was that she had gotten rid of school and could just draw and play with her dolls. That didn't last long since her father decided to visit his older brother and took her with him.

As soon as she entered the mansion for the first time, still with her eyes shy from being in a strange place hidden behind her father's leg, she saw him, and could feel a smile forming on her lips almost immediately. A boy who must have been her age sitting upright on the couch while reading a thin book with a red leather cover with a black dragon drawn on it. His hair was silver as was common in the family and he had eyes so blue they looked like two precious stones.

-Try not to make a mess while I talk to my brother. - Her father's voice sounded serious as he ruffled her hair slightly, making her snort, already straightening the strands again and carefully replacing the tiara as she went down the steps of the entrance hall.

She looked at the boy a little longer, and he seemed so focused on his book that she seriously considered not disturbing him, but it was as if she was being pulled towards him somehow. Y/n didn't know if it was because she was scared and alone, or what it was, and without thinking much more about it she decided to walk to the boy on the couch with a smile.

-Hi, I'm Y/n. - She said, tilting her head and placing it in front of the pages of the book, preventing reading and making her eyes meet his clear eyes that looked at her scared, having been so focused on reading the new book that he had barely noticed someone's arrival.

Aemond couldn't explain what he felt at that moment. He had never been able to throughout his childhood, throughout his adolescence and not even in adulthood or old age. But when he saw that unknown little girl smiling at him as she hid in front of the fantasy book he was reading, his heart raced and it was as if a shock ran under his skin at that moment.

It took him almost a minute to remember that his mother had told him that his uncle was coming and would bring his daughter along to visit. And trying to be as polite as possible since the girl was still looking at him smiling, waiting for an answer, he extended his hand, just as he saw his father do with important guests, and introduced himself.

- Nice to meet you, I'm Aemond.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh as she shook the boy's hand gently.

-Nice to meet you, I'm Y/n. - She repeated what he said with a very serious and formal voice, pretending to be in one of her father's meetings and then laughing right away, making Aemond blush.

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be mean. - Y/n apologized immediately when she saw the boy's blush. - I was just kidding.

- It's okay. - Aemond shrugged a little more calmly but still shyly, and Y/n sighed, smiling at him.

-What are you reading? - She asked curiously, sitting next to him on the couch.

-How to train your dragon.

-Oh, I watched the movie with my dad. I didn't know there was a book.

-I really like books. - He spoke a little too quietly, but Y/n heard anyway.

-Well, I prefer to watch TV, I can't read that well.

-Mom says reading is a matter of practice. - Aemond shrugged, looking at her. - I can lend it to you when I'm done.

-I probably won't stay long. - She smiled sadly. - My dad travels a lot and I stay with him.

-It must be nice. - Aemond tried to sound encouraging when he saw his cousin's sad look.

-Not really. - The girl rolled her eyes, crossing her legs and putting her feet on the mansion's expensive sofa as she turned to Aemond. - There's nothing fun to do, and I can only play alone all the time and I can't have a room anymore.

-Can I tell you a secret? - She whispered to him and Aemond promptly nodded positively since no one had ever told him a secret. Y/n then moved a little closer and after looking around, confided in her cousin.

-I even miss school a little. - She whispered even lower and Aemond laughed, making her glare at him.

-Sorry, sorry. - He asked when he saw the pout on her face. - It's just that I like going to school.

-Why? It's horrible. - She grimaced.

-Then why do you miss it? - He raised an eyebrow as he asked and Y/n didn't know what to answer, so she just laughed.

-I liked you, Aemond.

Aemond just smiled and looked away from the book he was reading, not knowing what to answer her, not wanting to seem silly, like Aegon and Jace usually said he was.

-You like cats? - He then decided to ask curiously and Y/n nodded.

-I do, but I prefer dogs.

Aemond grimaced when he heard that.

-You don't like dogs? - Little Y/n asked confused.

-Not much, they're drooling and make a lot of noise. - He said, sounding older than he really was. - I prefer cats, they're smarter.

-Smarter? - Y/n sat closer to him curiously.

-Yes, my grandfather gave me a book about cats for my birthday. - Aemond smiled a little shyly. - Did you know that in ancient Valyria they worshiped cats?

-Are you serious? - Y/n's eyes widened when she heard that.

-Yeah. - He nodded, excited that she was paying real attention to what he was saying. - It's all in the book, I haven't finished reading it yet and it's a little bigger than the ones I usually read. - He concluded, blushing a little at the admission.

Suddenly, screams interrupted their conversation. Y/n's wide smile gradually disappeared, the memory of the horrible fights between her father and mother returning to her at the same moment. And Aemond, noticing the girl's sad look, squeezed her hand to get her attention.

-Come with me.- With a kind look he guided her out of the mansion, to a large tree with a stone bench near the trunk. - I always come here when my parents fight. - He shrugged. - Or when my brother and nephews are bothering me.

Y/n smiled again when she heard that, feeling important that Aemond shared something so special with her.

-Do your parents fight a lot? - She asked, looking at the ground.

-Sometimes, yes. - The boy shrugged as he sat down and grabbed a leaf that had just fallen from the tree. - But my mother says that adult matters are not for children.

-Mine fought all the time. - She said sadly. - Until my mom died. - The last part came out so low that Aemond would not have heard if it were not for the silence of the garden.

-I'm sorry about your mom. - His voice was solemn and in a gesture of comfort Aemond reached out his hand to Y/n's and squeezed it gently, making her smile sadly at him.

-I miss her. - The youngest admitted. - I miss our home, the cookies she made. - Little by little, tears began to run down Y/n's cheeks as she spoke. - Listening to songs with her and hearing her sing. - She smiled a little at the oldest. - My mother liked to sing, does yours?

Aemond thought about it for a while and came to the conclusion that he had never heard his mother sing in his life, so he just shook his head while the youngest wiped the tears from her cheeks with her fingertips.

-What else did your mother like? – He encouraged her to talk.

-Horseback riding. - Y/n smiled at her cousin as she thought about her mother. - She took me with her to ride whenever she could.

-Looks amazing. - He smiled slightly at Y/n.

-Thank you. - Y/n said, sitting closer to Aemond.

-For what? - He was confused, since he hadn't done anything special for the girl.

-From hearing me talk about her, my father doesn't like it very much when I remember mom. - Y/n shrugged and Aemond smiled at her as he tore an orange leaf.

❦❦❦

-She's my daughter Viserys! - Daemon mocked as he walked around his brother's office.

-Just because she's your daughter doesn't mean you know how to take care of her! - The older man hissed irritably.

-Because you've been such a good father, haven't you, brother? - A mocking smile took over Daemon's face.

-You are certainly qualified to judge my performance.

-Y/n is a child, Daemon, she needs a home, stability, by the gods the girl needs to go to school! - Viserys just ignored him as he listed on his fingers what his brother should provide for his daughter, but he didn't. - You can't drag her around the entire country with you like a dog and take her to every inappropriate place you frequent.

-Y/n is doing very well with me. Better than she was with that bitch of a mother. - He practically spat out the words.

-Daemon, I really hope you're not talking about the girl's mother like that in front of her. - Viserys pressed his temples when thinking about such a thing.

The younger man just laughed in mockery as he threw himself into the chair in front of the table.

-But of course I am Viserys, is fifth on my evil list. Cursing my daughter's dead mother in front of her every day at 2 pm. - He then looked at his wristwatch with an ironic look. - I'm a bit late today.

-Daemon…

-Viserys why called me here? It wasn't to be brotherly, I've already realized that, so be clear.

-I filed a request for custody of Y/n. - The oldest spoke with a hard voice.

-What? You can't do that! - He slammed his hands hard on the table, leaning his body forward with his face contorted in anger.

-Y/n's custody belonged to her mother while she was alive, Rhea left me a letter of intent saying that if anything happened to her, custody of Y/n should pass to me.

-That damn bitch. - Daemon cursed, kicking his chair back as he stood up angrily.

-And I can clearly see why she thinks you're not fit to take care of a child, Daemon.

-You can't do that, Viserys!

-I'm already doing it. Y/n will not leave this house with you anymore! The girl will be under my and my wife's care, where she will be well cared for and attended to. - The eldest also stood up to face his brother with a firm voice and louder than Daemon, who in a fit of fury picked up the fallen chair and slammed it on the floor several times until there was nothing left but broken pieces of wood.

-The all-powerful main heir Viserys! - Daemon shouted as he grabbed one of the glasses that was on the table and threw it against the wall, making it shatter into broken glass.

-So upright, so moral, so perfect! - He mocked while walking around the office. - Always ready to ignore his own mistakes while pointing out those of others.

-Me traveling with my daughter is a big problem. - He rolled his eyes, staring at his brother.

-But you marry that bitch who frequented your house when your wife was alive a year after her death and everything is fine, because Viserys Targaryen is perfect! - The youngest sneered as he walked through his enraged brother's office.

-Don't you dare talk about Alicent like that! - Viserys slammed one of his hands against the table.

-Oh, I touched a nerve, didn't I? - He laughed as he stomped hard towards his brother's table, stopping inches away from him.

-Tell me something, my fair and noble brother. - Daemon's gaze dripped with evil and venom dripped from his words. - Did you fuck her in this house while Aemma was still alive and pregnant and while Rhaenyra and she were still studying together at college?

Daemon had barely finished speaking when Viserys had already slapped him loudly in the face, leaving a slight cut where the ring he wore on his little finger had hit him, and Daemon just laughed in mockery.

-That's enough, Daemon!

-Okay, I wouldn't have resisted such a young and hot cunt either, but that makes you more like me than you pretending not to be, brother. - The smile slowly disappeared from his face.

-I'm going.

-Say goodbye to your daughter. - Viserys ordered in a still irritated voice.

-I don't like goodbyes. - He said without emotion as he walked towards the door.

-And you don't think about her feelings about this? - Hearing his brother say this, Daemon stopped before opening the door.

-There's no point in wasting my time saying anything since you're going to poison her against me from now on.

-Don't try to fool me by pretending it's the first time you've left without saying goodbye because I'm not an idiot! Your wife told me how you behaved.

-Ex-wife! - Daemon hissed at his brother. - And in case you forgot, I didn't ask for that hellish marriage.

Viserys took a deep breath at the mention of his brother's marriage.

-Daemon, no one is going to poison Y/n against you, you can visit her whenever you want.

-With you and your bitch all over me acting like I'm some kind of maniac who needs supervision? - His voice sounded bitter like gall. - I don't think so.

And then he closed the door behind him without even looking back.

❦❦❦

Alicent's heart ached as she walked towards the garden knowing the news she would have to give to her niece. The pain only increased seeing her jumping smilingly through the grass while talking to Aemond who was smiling too.

-Hello kids. - She smiled sitting on the bench near the tree under the watchful eyes of both. Y/n looked at the ground slightly shy in front of the unknown adult and Aemond, realizing this, got up and went to her.

-That's my mother.

-Hi. - Y/n looked at Alicent and gave a shy smile after Aemond spoke to her.

-Hello, my dear. - The woman smiled at her. - I'm Alicent, your aunt.

She didn't know how to tell a child who had already lost her mother that her father had left without saying goodbye and taking a deep breath she started to speak.

-Y/n your father has been very busy lately and has been traveling a lot. You know this, don’t you?

Y/n just nodded as she looked into Alicent's eyes.

-So we all think it's best for you to stay here in Kings Landing with us for a while. - The redhead spoke uncertainly as she tried not to look away from her niece.

-Stay here? - She said confusedly, pouting.

-Yes, dear, here in our house with your family. - Alicent leaned forward and stroked the girl's hair affectionately as she said this.

Aemond suddenly felt extremely happy when he heard that. Y/n was going to stay, so the two of them could be friends and play together every day.

-But where is my dad? - She asked, still confused.

-Y/n, dear, he had an emergency and needed to leave as soon as possible. - Alicent lied to avoid hurting the girl's feelings even more. - He told me to tell you he's sorry.

-My dad left? - Y/n asked sadly in a tearful voice looking at her feet, already feeling tears in her eyes.

-I'm sorry, my dear. - Alicent sighed to the girl while stroking her hair.

-He promised me that he would never leave without saying goodbye. - The girl's voice sounded choked as she hugged her arms against herself. - Why didn't he say goodbye?

Alicent opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She just stared at the crying girl, not knowing what to do in such a complicated situation. And that's when Aemond stepped forward and gently wrapped Y/n in his arms while the youngest cried and sobbed.

-It's okay, Y/n, I'm with you. - He smiled at his cousin and she tried to smile back, but it seemed more sad than anything else.

-Since you're staying, I'll share all my toys with you. - Aemond promised, still holding her close to him while she gradually calmed down.

-Truth? - She asked, still in a very sad voice.

-Yes, I have a lot of board games and puzzles. - He smiled kindly at his little cousin.

-I like puzzles. - The youngest sniffed and tried to smile as she looked at Aemond.

-And while you're here, my mother will take care of you. - Aemond promised. - She can make cookies whenever you want.

Alicent looked at the scene with relief, seeing the girl slowly stop sniffling as her son calmed her down. Y/n seemed to like him, and it would be good for Aemond to have a friend since he was such a quiet child, unlike his older brother.

-I don't want to be alone. - The girl said, looking at her own feet as she crossed her arms, hugging herself.

-You won't be. - Aemond assured her with a slight smile and pulled one of her hands, holding it in his. - As long as we're friends, you'll never be alone.

-You swear? - She asked hopefully, her eyes shining as she looked at Aemond, still moist with tears.

-I swear. - The older one promised, squeezing her hand lightly, and Y/n finally smiled happily.

That night at dinner, Aemond taught Y/n how to write his name using the noodles from the alphabet soup that was served at the children's table, and with a smile on his face he wrote her name next to his.

❦❦❦

The months passed and Y/n quickly adapted to the routine at the Targaryen mansion, mainly because Aemond was by her side all the time. She also liked her other cousins, Helaena was great at playing with dolls even though she was three years older than her and Y/n had a lot of fun with her cousin. Aegon was a little silly sometimes and even a little mean when he wanted to be, but she liked him too, and Daeron was always running around and knocking over all of their toys.

But with Aemond it was different, he understood her, and the two talked and confided everything in each other. He listened to her talk about her mother and made her feel better about it and about her father's departure. Y/n felt like she could do anything when she was with him.

They all went to the same school, except for Daeron who was still too young for that. The only bad part was the fact that Aemond was a class ahead of her and they didn't have the same class, but the new school was great and unlike the old school they let her draw and had even told her uncles to enroll in a drawing class, something that Alicent did promptly.

Y/n was elated at this. She now had a part of the day exclusively for drawing, and her teacher was very kind and reminded her of her mother. She had even discovered that the woman liked Shania Tyrell's music and now during classes they could listen to the songs together.

At the same time that she had drawing class, Aemond had fencing class, something he seemed to really enjoy although Y/n didn't understand why. The two also had swimming classes together, something that made them absolutely happy because they could spend the whole afternoon together playing in the pool.

And the rest of the time the two just played and talked to each other, Aemond seemed to gravitate around Y/n, as if she were the sun and he was one of the planets in its orbit, and where one was the other was always there too.

-Let's play house, Aem? - Y/n practically begged, pulling on the sleeve of the fancy outfit the eldest wore to the Targaryen annual charity ball.

-You can be the father and I can be the mother. - She smiled vain as she smoothed her own pink dress full of beautiful white ruffles. - Daeron can be our son.

Upon hearing this, the younger boy ran away and left the two alone, causing Y/n to have a cute pout on her lips as she looked at the more Aemond.

-Mr. Bunny can be our son. - Aemond said as he pulled Y/n's stuffed rabbit that she had lent to Daeron but he had dropped when he ran.

Y/n's eyes lit up when she heard the eldest's idea and she quickly agreed, shaking her head and taking the stuffed animal from his hands and cradling it in her arms as if it were a baby.

-Now husband, I need a place to sit. - She spoke very seriously and Aemond promptly ran to get a chair under the watchful eyes of some of the adults at the party.

-Little Aemond seems enchanted by Y/n. - Mrs. Blackwood said with a smile as she watched the children playing in the corner.

-Yes, the two became friends very quickly, thank the gods. - Alicent smiled when observing them. - The friendship has been good for both of them, he takes care of her as if she were a sister.

Alicent excused herself before leaving, since one of the maids was calling her from the other side of the room. Shortly after she left, Mr. Blackwood turned to Viserys, laughing.

-I don't think he looks at her the same way he looks at Helaena. - He took a sip of champagne as he said this. - In my opinion, if we consider the look on your son's face, little Y/n has hung all the stars and the moon in the sky.

-Nonsense. - Viserys said as he laughed, shaking his head. - They are just good friends.

In the corner, the two of them were playing and laughing, oblivious to everything else. They both took turns rocking the stuffed rabbit while pretending to be married. Aemond had already left for work at the company three times by that point, and Y/n had already pretended to bake dozens of cookies while singing to the stuffed animal.

-We haven't fought once. - Y/n said, confused, looking at Aemond. - How can we be married if we don't fight?

-Well, there are no fights in our marriage. - He shrugged his shoulders while smiling. - It's our game, we make the rules and I say we don't need to fight.

Y/n's smile could light up the entire room when she heard that.

-I want to marry you when we grow up, Aem. - She spoke innocently excitedly while looking at her cousin. - That way, we'll never fight, and we'll be happy forever.

-And I will never yell at you. - The older stated with conviction, making Y/n smile even more.

Aemond's heart suddenly filled with an unknown feeling that seemed like happiness when he heard Y/n say that and showing that he would be a good husband, he told her that he would bring her more sweets, making her smile even more.

Aemond walked past his father to get to the sweets table and Viserys, seeing a sticker stuck to his son's lapel, pulled him and then straightened his clothes.

-Thank you dad. - Aemond said, a little embarrassed by his father's unusual attitude.

-What are you and Y/n doing? - Viserys asked, smiling.

-Playing house. - Aemond replied, blushing a little. - I'm the dad and Y/n is the mom, I'm going to work to buy more sweets.

-He only got married for a children game and is already being exploited like the rest of us. - Mr. Lanister said and then laughed out loud at his own joke, followed by all the other men.

-When we're adults, I'm going to marry Y/n. - Aemond announced with a timid smile.

All the adults laughed out loud once more, but none of them told him he couldn't do it. And from that day on, playing house became their favorite game.

❦❦❦

The years passed and the two grew closer and closer to each other, becoming practically inseparable. Aemond did absolutely everything that Y/n asked him to do, he was always around and if he denied her something, Y/n just had to blink her eyes, give a cute smile and say "Pretty please, Aem" and he would soon change his mind and do it.

On Y/n's 10th birthday, she received a Polaroid camera from Helaena, and while Aemond ran away from all the cameras, always covering his face when they photographed him, he let Y/n take instant photos of him with the new camera, as well as taking photos of her, who was usually laughing or making funny faces, like pulling her eyes down with her fingers while making a fish face.

The two grew up like that, around each other, one telling the other everything, one defending the other, one always in the other's presence. Everything between the two was very simple and innocent until Aemond and Y/n began to grow up and look at each other even more differently than they already did.

One of the things that most fueled students at the KL Royal Academy was gossip and whispers about each other. When Aemond was 13, he knew that all his schoolmates had kissed except him, because he couldn't feel like kissing any of those girls.

It was then that Aegon decided to solve the problem on his own terms, since he couldn't stand his younger brother being teased by anyone other than him, and he practically forced him to kiss a girl from his own class behind the gym, and that was the worst feeling in Aemond's life. It was disgusting, wet, and tasted like cigarettes, and he felt like he never wanted to do that again in his life, and for a long time he didn't do it.

Until 1 year later, Y/n came home from school without saying a word to him or Daeron in the car. No matter how hard he tried, she didn't give more than a nod of her head. After arriving home, Y/n went straight to her room and Aemond went after her immediately to try to understand what was happening, and after much bothering about the subject, he finally found out.

-All the girls in my class have kissed someone except me. - She said, looking at him from under her eyelashes, and Aemond felt his stomach warm.

-But that's not a problem.

-Well, they think it is, they laughed at me and then they wanted me to kiss Jai Lanister. - She said shyly, looking down.

-And you kissed him? - Aemond's voice was trembling and he felt something twisting inside him as he imagined that disgusting creature putting his paws on his Y/n.

-No! - She immediately denied, making Aemond sigh in relief and squeeze her hand gently. He couldn't let what happened to him happen to her, and so finally, after a year, he told Y/n what had happened and apologized for keeping a secret from her for the first time in his life. Y/n was annoyed but accepted his apology.

-Did you kiss anyone else after that? - She asked, her face still red with anger, and Aemond quickly shook his head.

-No, never!

Y/n sighed in relief when she heard him say no, and then, looking into his eyes, she asked decisively.

-I want you to kiss me.

Aemond's eyes widened at the request and he immediately said no, even though something inside him had heated up at the prospect.

-I don't want to be the only one who hasn't kissed, and I don't want it to be with just anyone, I want it to be you, Aemond.

She looked at him with that sweet look that enchanted everyone around her, and Aemond, upon hearing her say those words, leaned forward, joining their lips in a sweet, soft kiss.

It was different from the first kiss with that girl behind the gym. It was slow, innocent, delicious, and he didn't want to stop. Their lips intertwined and Aemond felt his stomach flutter with the sweet sensation, her mouth tasted like bubble gum and he thought that if it weren't for the lack of air he could kiss her forever.

The two separated and stared at each other with both red faces sitting on the floor of Y/n's room.

-Just this once, right? -He asked looking into her eyes and Y/n nodded in agreement while biting her slightly red lips.

After that afternoon Aemond couldn't think of anything else but kissing. But not just any girl, he wanted to kiss Y/n, he wanted her sweet and soft lips that tasted like bubble gum. And when he arrived at school the next morning, Aemond made sure to make it clear that any idiot who tried to get close to his cousin would end up with him, Y/n hugged him smiling and Aemond felt his stomach do somersaults with the sweet smell of her hair.

He held back, he really tried, but it turns out he couldn't think of anything else, and so three days after the first kiss, on Saturday afternoon he went to Y/n's room and asked her for one more kiss. Just one last one, because it had been so good and he wouldn't want to kiss anyone else. And she agreed, sitting in front of him on the bed and waiting for him to join his lips with hers.

It was even better than the first one. The two were no longer so embarrassed and held hands while exchanging light sweet kisses. From then on, they always did this, they said it was the last time, but one always went to the other in search of more kisses.

They exchanged kisses in the bedroom, hidden in the attic or in the basement, places in the mansion where no one else went became their personal hiding places. The two were still very young, and the kisses they exchanged were nothing more than innocent, just simple touches of lips while they smiled at each other and held hands.

But as time passed and the two grew older, the kisses became harder and less soft, more demanding and less sweet. Y/n had barely understood when one day during the break between classes Jason Lanister was accompanying her and suddenly Aemond called her very seriously saying that he needed to talk to her.

When she went, he dragged her to the theater room, pressing her against the door and kissed her in a hungry way that he had never done before. And the worst part was that she liked it, she liked it so much that she didn't even care that they were out of their safe places. He bit her lips lightly and Y/n sighed at the action, Aemond had never bitten her lips before.

Aemond said he didn't want her near Jai Lanister after the kisses. Y/n didn't understand what had come over him, but she just agreed, shaking her head, still dizzy from her cousin's kisses and wanting him to kiss her like that again.

A few days later Y/n understood what had gotten into Aemond when she saw Alys Rivers, a much older girl, laughing next to him and touching Aemond's shoulder as if the two had some kind of intimacy. Y/n's blood boiled, she wanted to tear out Alys's eyes personally, so that she would never dare to place them on Aemond again. And without thinking much about her actions, she walked to where they were and gave her best sweet smile to Alys, then turned to Aemond, looking at him from under her eyelashes as she spoke.

-Cousin, I need help with my locker, the door is stuck and I can't open it.

Aemond immediately put aside all other things and turned his attention exclusively to Y/n, just like he always did.

-Sure, let's go there. - He said, picking up the philosophy book he had left on the bench next to him while he was talking and following her without even saying anything to the colleagues he was talking to, and especially without giving explanations to Alys Rivers.

Instead of going to her own locker, Y/n turned to the opposite side, making Aemond raise his eyebrows.

-Your locker is on the other side.

Y/n just shrugged and entered the math lab with Aemond in tow. And when the door closed, she jumped on him, kissing him madly while pulling his hair, deepening the kiss even more. The two walked until Y/n bumped her back against one of the large study tables, and she let out a slight cry of surprise when Aemond dropped the book on the floor and lifted her by the waist and placed it on the table.

She brought her hands to the back of Aemond's neck and he held her by the hips as they kissed each other more and more deeply. Y/n wanted to prove that Aemond was hers. Then she slowly placed her tongue against Aemond's lips, who gladly accepted and in return did the same. And for the first time, their tongues intertwined, they both forgot everything, the only thing they knew was that they wanted to kiss each other's lips.

The heat grew inside both of them, they both felt their skin burn and tingle and Aemond squeezed Y/n's waist tightly between kisses. He put his head on her neck as he tried to catch his breath, feeling even more intoxicated by her scent.

-What's gotten into you? - He asked breathlessly, looking at her after breaking the kiss.

-Nothing, I just don't want you near Alys Rivers. - She replied, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning.

Aemond smiled and kissed her again, but more gently, and then stated that he wouldn't let the older girl get close to him again as he hugged her.

That afternoon, the two of them didn't go home after school. They went to the edge of the forest where they could walk and be alone. And after finding a comfortable place under a large tree, Y/n spread out a blue scarf that she had put in Aemond's backpack and the two sat on the lawn, hugging each other while looking at the city in the distance.

-You can see the sept of Baelor right from here. - Y/n said with a smile as she reached for the bowl with the lemon cake she had kept in her bag, Aemond just smiled back, already pulling out the bottle of orange juice he had brought with him and placing it next to the cake.

-See that? I told you I would bring you for a picnic. - Aemond arched his eyebrows, opening the cake bowl. - Are you happy?

The question was genuine as he looked her in the eyes.

-Quite. - She responded simply, leaving a kiss on his chin and eliciting a smile from Aemond.

The two ate and talked about their day at school while laughing and exchanging kisses. And Y/n had her head resting on Aemond's thighs while they both admired the sunset smiling.

-I love you. - Aemond confessed to her for the first time after gathering courage, feeling his own heart in his mouth as he watched her under the orange sunset of Kings Landing.

Y/n sat down again immediately upon hearing this, looking him directly in the eyes, feeling her eyes watery with the statement.

-Are you serious?

-I've never been so serious about anything.

-I love you too, Aem. - She whispered, hugging him while smiling against his neck.

-In truth? - He asked uncertainly.

-In truth. - Y/n answered almost at the same time.

-When we're old enough and no one can boss us around anymore, I'll buy a house that will be just for us. Facing Visenya Hills, and we'll be able to get married and build our own lives. - He promised her under the orange light of the sunset.

Y/n's smile was exultant, the biggest and brightest Aemond had ever seen on her, and overcome with joy she pulled the sketchbook from her bag and opened it, skipping through the pages filled with drawings of clothes, dresses, flowers and sketches of people until she reached a blank one where she began to draw what Aemond noticed was an attempt at a blueprint for a house.

-I don't want us to have a very big house like your father's. - She rolled her eyes as she started drawing. - But we need more rooms for the children and for guests.

Aemond felt his heart warm when he heard her say children, they both always loved playing house and pretending they had one or two children. Thinking about a future where all of this would be real made him exultant.

-Don't forget about the library. - Aemond demanded as he watched the progress of the drawing. - I've always wanted to have a private library.

-Can it stay with your office? - She asked, looking at him thoughtfully - Then we could put my studio in the next room and we would always be close to each other when we were working at home.

-I like that idea. - Aemond smiled, looking at the plan in formation.

-A very beautiful dining room for us to have dinner together every night. - She added this part excitedly as she imagined family dinners.

-We also need a very large living room. - Aemond suggested. - That way we can camp in the living room on the weekends.

-Yes! - Y/n immediately agreed, adding the idea. - That would be perfect.

Little by little, more ideas began to emerge and when the plan was ready, Y/n began to draw the exterior of the house on the back of the sheet under the watchful eye of Aemond, who gave his own opinions and Y/n continued smiling as she shared her own ideas with him.

-I want lots of flowers. - She murmured, drawing a garden around the house.

-You could place a bunch of flowers near the main door. - Aemond suggested and Y/n loved the idea.

In the end, the house had two floors and details that referred to ancient architecture, which Aemond chose, a beautiful garden in front and a bunch of flowers climbing up the main entrance. And inspired by the orange light of the sunset, the two decided that the house would be orange with white windows.

The two admired the drawing with satisfied smiles on their faces as they held hands and thought about the future.

-You really mean all this, don't you, Aemond? - Y/n asked, still insecure, and Aemond gently pulled her by the chin and placed a kiss on her lips.

-You know that. - His voice was serious as he looked into her eyes. - That's our future Y/n. We will get married and be together forever, we are destined for each other.

Y/n smiled and hugged him as the night fell, feeling safe in his arms like she didn't feel anywhere else in the world. And that night, when they both slept, they dreamed of a happy future together.

❦❦❦

A few days later, it was a Sunday morning after breakfast. Aemond and Y/n were making out in the basement, their kisses getting more and more out of control. Amidst the hungry kisses, Aemond began to trail kisses down Y/n's jaw, making her gasp softly for him, making him even crazier, making his imagination run even wilder.

And without being quite sure of what he was doing, Aemond left a hickey on the side of Y/n's neck, making it hard for both of them to cover it up later. But after that, Aemond couldn't get enough of kissing her neck. It was his new favorite pastime: kissing her neck and avoiding leaving too many obvious marks that would make them get caught.

Things got difficult for Aemond. He couldn't stop kissing Y/n, and every time he kissed her, he felt his body heat up uncontrollably and the twinges in his lower abdomen were becoming painful. So he created a habit that was certainly not very healthy, but after the habit of making out with his own cousin in any minimally empty place, anything didn't seem so bad. He touched himself every night thinking about her before sleeping, and when he finally fell asleep he dreamed about her on his body, and usually in those dreams Y/n wasn't leaving much to the imagination.

What he didn't know was that Y/n was having the same problem. And when the two finally talked about it, they both started touching each other's bodies more deeply or touching their own bodies under each other's adoring gaze.

The first time Y/n was naked in front of Aemond, she thought she was going to die from so much embarrassment, but it wasn't long before Aemond's gaze became so comfortable that she no longer even noticed when she was naked. Aemond would sneak into her room in the middle of the night whenever he could, and Y/n would eagerly welcome him and let him touch her the way he wanted.

Aemond knew they were going too far and he knew how screwed they would be if anyone found out, but he couldn't care, he just wanted her and he knew that nothing else in this life would satisfy him.

❦❦❦

On the morning of Y/n's 16th birthday, the day had barely dawned and Aemond was already opening the door to her room, jumping inside anxiously with a black velvet box in his hand. She was still sleeping tangled in the sheets with her hair messy and the straps of her pajamas slipping off her shoulders, giving him a slight look at the breasts he liked so much.

And with a smile he sat on the edge of her bed and shook her gently while calling her name, and when Y/n opened her eyes he smiled at her.

-Happy birthday beautiful.

Her eyes lit up and she promptly sat up, hugging him with a wide smile.

-I have a present for you. - He held out the velvet box and Y/n thanked him before even opening it, and when she opened it her jaw almost dropped and she put her hand to her mouth.

-Aemond I… I don't know what to say… it's beautiful. - She still spoke with her hand over her mouth. - It's the most beautiful necklace I've ever seen in my life.

-I ordered it to be made for you. - He smiled, satisfied with her reaction. - You always say that my eyes look like sapphires, so I chose this stone, so that I'll always be close to your heart and you'll always think of me when you wear it. - He then brought his face closer to hers and gently brushed his nose against hers. - But also so that you remember that my heart is yours.

A tear ran down Y/n's cheek as she admired the necklace between her fingers and everything it meant, then leaned in to leave a kiss on Aemond's lips.

-I love you Aem. - She murmured against his lips.

-I love you too Y/n. - He replied, caressing her face with the palms of his hands.

Aemond then placed the necklace around her neck, and Y/n admired herself in the mirror, enchanted by the sight, smiling even more when Aemond took a picture of her using the old polaroid camera that was on top of the bookshelf.

-Don't take it off. - He placed a kiss on her neck as he said this.

-I'll never take it off, Aem. Never. - She swore, looking at him through the mirror.

❦❦❦

And that night, on Y/n's 16th birthday, after all the expensive gifts, the party with hundreds of guests, the dances and even the sudden and unusual presence of Y/n's father, Daemon Targaryen. She went to Aemond's room at dawn and thanked him for the silver necklace with a heart-shaped sapphire stone that he had given her. But she informed him that as much as it was her favorite gift, she thought she deserved more from him, and when Aemond asked Y/n what she wanted, she confidently told him that she wanted him to make her his completely.

And that's what Aemond did, he took her for himself just as he had been dreaming of doing since he discovered what sex was. That was certainly one of the sweetest moments of both their lives.

For all the years that passed, Y/n remembered that night, every touch, from the simplest to the hungriest. From every breath, from every sigh, from every word of love that Aemond said to her. And Aemond, in turn, felt that his soul had been marked forever at that moment, and he knew that there could never be another in his life.

And still naked and smiling, tangled between the sheets, the two promised to whisper against each other's skin, Y/n first because she needed to affirm Aemond so that he knew for sure that she would always only be his.

-I will never let anyone else touch me like that, Aemond. - She sighed against his lean chest.

-You swear? - Aemond asked, feeling taken with the courage to make his own confession upon hearing Y/n's, who slowly shook her head in affirmation.

-I swear.

-Good, because I will never touch another person like that in my life, Y/n, just you. Forever. - He confessed against her hair, with his nose stuck there smelling the sweet smell of her shampoo.

-You swear? - Y/n asked, but now she was looking at him with tears in her eyes.

Aemond then held her face delicately while smiling lovingly.

-I swear. - He said as he caressed the sides of her face with his thumbs. - It will be you and me forever, nothing in this world will separate us.

A tear ran down Y/n's cheek as she heard him say those words, and with a hopeful smile she leaned in and kissed Aemond's lips sweetly.

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @fan-goddess @strangersunghoon @zenka69 @callsignwidow @amanda08319 @alesswift-blog @marialikescherries

Final notes: I can't imagine Viserys punching Daemon, so we got a slap. I hope you're enjoying the progress of the story, and spoiler alert: trouble is coming! Tell me what you think, it makes me very happy and thank you for all the support so far! 💖💕

Next chapter

[feyhunter78]

Lost Notebook - Nerd!Miguel

Description: You left your notebook behind, and Miguel ends up with more than he bargained for when he returns it.

Shout out to @smokeywhalee for the idea🥰

Nerd!Miguel headcanons!

It’s your notebook that stops him. Pastel pink with your name written in black sharpie in the bottom right corner. He grabs it, unable to resist the urge to flip through it, to admire the way you take notes, it’s so chaotic, but he can see the genius behind the madness. Miguel knows you don’t think you’re smart enough for this class, but you are. You’re smart enough for anything you put your mind to. Genetics just seem to be something you can’t get your mind on board with, though.

He should return it, your notebook. You’ll be worried, anxious, he’s surprised you haven’t texted him asking if he’s left already, if he’s seen your notebook. He smiles to himself, tracing the loops of your handwriting. He loves when you text him all frantic, loves that he can put your mind at ease, loves when you make time in your schedule to come meet him somewhere on campus to retrieve your forgotten items. It makes him feel needed.

He should return your notebook, sooner rather than later, you’ve been on the edge of tears nearly every lecture, and he doesn’t want you to worry more than you already are.

Miguel knows your schedule, as embarrassing as it is to admit, he’s memorized it. After lab, you usually walk through the courtyard to get to your next class, it’s across campus so if he moves quickly, he can probably catch up with you. So, he grabs your notebook and hurries out of the lab, backpack slung over one shoulder.

The sun is shining down through the trees casting patterned shadows across the stone walkways, chatter fills the air, as he enters the courtyard. It’s a large square, each side opening up to a different part of campus. The library, the student center, the Humanities buildings, and then the labs he just came from. Along the low brick walls that box in parts of the courtyard, he can see the large colorful Frat letters. Each decorated differently with a variety of guys hanging around them, a scattering of girls, sorority girls he assumes, mingling with the various groups.

He spots you almost immediately, your hair shining in the sun, your pink backpack hanging low on your back, your scuffed sneakers moving slightly as you shift your weight from side to side.

You’re talking with someone; a man Miguel doesn’t recognize. He’s taller than you, shorter than Miguel, with short blond hair and striking blue eyes. He laughs loud, it rings out in the courtyard and for a moment Miguel thinks you’re laughing too. But then he sees the way you tense up, how you nod awkwardly and turn away from the laughing man, your steps measured but hurried, your head buried in your phone.

He catches up with you easily, long strides nearly double yours, and calls out your name.

Your head shoots up, a frigid, prickly look on your face that melts into a brilliant smile when you realize who called your name. “Miguel, hey, what’s up? I thought you had Calculus after lab?”

You know his schedule? His heart skips a beat, and he pushes his glasses up, holding your notebook out to you. “Yeah I—you left your notebook, and I know you’ve been stressed about class, so I thought I’d—”

You burst into tears, completely stopping him in his tracks.

He steps closer, anxiety swirling in his chest. “I’m sorry I should’ve texted you; it was weird of me to just show up like this. Please, please don’t cry.”

You shake your head and wipe away your mascara stained tears the best you can, bottom lip trembling even harder when you see the black marks on your finger. “No, no, you didn’t—I’m sorry I’ve just had a really tough morning, and then this asshole in KA, he was running his mouth and like I’m not even involved in that drama, so I don’t know why he started coming at me, and you’re just—you’re so sweet. I know you hate being late to class but here you are bringing me my notebook that I stupidly forgot and I…”

Miguel steps even closer, tentatively resting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s nothing, really.”

You shake your head again, crying even harder, and throwing your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I just—he was so mean, and I don’t even know him!”

“What did he say?” He asks softly, wrapping his arms loosely around you, rubbing his hand up and down your back as soothingly as he can.

“He said that I’m just a dumb bitch who needs to mind my own business and learn to shut up.” You sob, your fingers gripping his sweater.

Rage flares in his chest and Miguel wants to march over to that bleached blond douchebag, but the warmth of your body against his, the sound of your sobs, keeps him rooted in place.

Not like he’d even have the courage to go confront the guy, he’s not Gabriel. His brother would waste no time telling the guy off, maybe even punching him.

“He’s an ass, y/n.” He says softly.

“Yeah but…I mean, you sit beside me in lab; you know I’m not all that…I don’t know, and I do talk a lot, maybe he’s right.” You pull back and look up at him, crystalline tears on your lashes. “Do you think I talk too much, am I too in your business?”

“No.” It comes out more forcefully than he intends, and he clears his throat before trying again. “No, y/n, I don’t think you talk too much, or that you’re too in my business. I enjoy hearing your stories, and the fact that you’re in my business is just proof that you care.” He gathers his courage and wipes away a stray tear with his thumb. “You’ve got a big heart; some people don’t appreciate that...but I do.”

His face is burning, and he prays you can’t see him blushing, or feel his heart pounding, or hear the tremble in his voice as he forces himself to voice a tiny fraction of his feeling towards you.

You blink up at him, sobs dying down to sniffles. “Miguel I—” Your phone buzzes, and your eyes dart down to it. “Sorry, it’s my big, I texted her about what Clayton said.”

Miguel steps back, lets his arms fall to his side as you answer the call, your notebook in your hand as you throw him a quick thank you and a smile over your shoulder and rush off to class.

His arms still tingle from where he held you, his shirt still slightly damp and stained with mascara as he watches you walk away.

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan

[caesariawritesstuff]

for the follower event ! prompt: discreet sexual tension 4 and/or 9 with detective reader and scarecrow (or eddie if you’d like). i was so excited to see you update cat & mouse, it’s definitely one of my favorite fics ever. keep it up and congrats!! <3

Learning to Share

Summary: Edward and Jonathan have come to an arrangement...one that involves sharing you.

Content Warning: P in V sex, MFM threesome, sexual punishment, begging, jealousy, masturbation, fingering, spanking, discussions about fear. Slight continuation of Damaged Goods.

Word Count: 15.7k

A/N: @a1atheias also requested the “i want you” “then take me” prompt with reader and scarecrow ☺️. This fic got so out of hand and I'm so sorry it's so long!!!! I had an idea and RAN with it. I really hope you enjoy and hope this doesn't suck lmao. Also special thanks to @jkcreation for helping me a bit to figure out how I wanted this to go. Fic is not canon to the official Cat&Mouse!Verse.

Being involved in law enforcement in Gotham ends in several days: death, burn out, turning to drugs and alcohol, being involved in some twisted experiment, or quitting the force entirely seemed to be the usual ways out – so when a member of the GCPD officially made it to retirement after a long, lustrous career – it was something of a celebration.

With a heavy sigh, you looked up at the Cyrus Pinkney Institute for National History and frowned, disdain clear your eyes. Bright lights surrounded the stone building, bathing it in a yellow glow. All around you, Gothamites came and went, laughing and chatting, dates on their arms. Right about now, you’d much rather be in the bubble bath, face mask on and a good book in hand, but alas, being invited to the retirement party of Sergeant Groszek felt a bit like a summons. There would be quite a large number of officers and detectives there, and you did not want to give off the wrong impression and come off as rude – so that was how you found yourself now, wearing an emerald green dress that reached just shy of your fingertips, hugging your curves in all the right places; the balloon sleeves were tight around the wrist and airy around your arms, hanging off your shoulders, revealing your smooth skin. Across the neckline, it dipped low to reveal a tasteful amount of cleavage – one appropriate for an outing like this. Your gaze slid to the left, where Edward tightly had one arm wrapped around your waist, wearing an identical, green-colored suit that complimented your own dress well. He looked quite handsome in his green suit, the material sleek, and his grip tightened around your waist, fingers digging in. You had assured Edward he didn’t have to come with you to this little event, but he insisted. Quite a bit more than usual, but you shrugged away the thought.

Sighing, you looked at him and said, “We don’t have to stay long. Just enough for me to mingle, drop off this card, and then we can get out of here.”

Edward quirked a brow at you, a slow smirk creeping along the edge of his lips. “Don’t worry, detective, I’m sure I can keep myself occupied while you mingle with these simpletons.”

You smirked back, shaking your head, but walked in tandem with him up the stony steps and into the museum, a spring air gusting across your exposed skin. There were signs posted about with arrows leading you towards the private room where the retirement party was being held, and you and Edward followed them with ease, passing by a myriad of exhibits within glass cases. But as you came to the doorway, you sucked in a breath, silently prepping yourself for the onslaught of small talk you were sure you’d be dragged into. This really was the last place you wanted to be. Narrowing your eyes, you looked around at all of the party goers, already chatting up a storm and congratulating Sergeant Groszek on his achievements over his long career. Along the back wall was a display of food catered in: meat and cheese and fruit platters, chips, small finger foods and sandwiches, and a large custom cake. But your eyes instead caught on the bubbly wine being laid out by a caterer – and a sigh of relief escaped your lips. Well, at least there was something you could look forward to here.

You wandered over, slipping out of Edward’s grasp, and snatched up a glass of wine, bringing it to your lips and sipping slowly. When you pulled the glass away, a smudge of bright lipstick stained the rim. Everyone around you was already engaged in hearty conversation, dressed in suits and ties, women in gorgeous dresses. You glanced down at your own, a small smile curving at the edge of your mouth; Edward had handpicked it just for you, just for this occasion. He’d chosen it with quite great care, you’d noticed, and that simple fact made your heart flutter thunderously in your chest, a warmth pool deep in your stomach. Your thoughts were already straying to what it would be like for him to peel it off you when you got home.

“Give me a moment, will you?” Edward asked, his breath at your ear, tickling your skin. You nodded, watching him slip away, somewhere down the hall where the bathrooms were located.

You turned away, gripping the stem of your glass tightly, and wandered over to one of the shadowy corners away from prying eyes. Ever since you started dating Edward, fitting in with your coworkers had become more difficult. Not like you’d ever fully fit in with them in the first place. Frowning, you took an even deeper sip, draining almost half the glass in the process.

“Careful, detective,” a deep, gravelly voice said from beside you, getting your attention. “This is a party, not a brewhouse, correct?”

You lowered your glass just in time to see Jonathan Crane walk up beside you. Your mouth fell open slightly in surprise; you had not expected to find him here, out and about and surrounded by actual people and not vials of chemicals, especially after the…little incident down in the forensics lab at the GCPD a few weeks ago. An incident that had not only left you slightly shaken, irritated, and annoyed – but also turned on. More than you cared to admit. But ever since that moment, you hadn’t been blind to the way Crane watched you with a slow intention, a careful gaze whenever he did manage to come up from the lab. He only ever exchanged a few words for you, but you could feel the tension between you two, crackling like lightning just under the surface. You were not entirely sure what it was about him that drew you to him, but something did, something you were so desperately trying to fight down and not make known.

You studied him closely, taking in his brown suit and tan colored tie, but your eyes lingered for a little too long on his reconstructed face, and the delicate lines etched into his skin, remnants of multiple surgeries he’d been through. But your gaze met his for a slight moment, and you turned away, taking another sip, as if to prove a point.

“Aren’t parties to be enjoyed, Dr. Crane?” you asked, keeping your voice level.

“Parties such as this bore me,” he said.

You smirked, looking down for just a moment. “Yeah, I don’t exactly enjoy parties like this either,” you mumbled. But when you looked up, you scanned the sea of faces for Edward, but found no sign of him. Where is he when I need him? you wondered.

“Why is that?” he asked after a beat.

You scoffed under your breath, once more taking another sip of your drink. “I guess you could say they bore me, too,” you finally answered. At least coming here with Edward was one thing – if only he would turn back up again. Your gaze searched for him once more, but when you saw no sign of him, your heart sunk, a strange aching in your stomach.

“Something bothering you, detective?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you said, quickly, not wanting to show him an ounce of your discomfort. You certainly didn’t want a man like him getting under your skin. Again.

“Your body language betrays you,” he said. “Are you afraid of something?”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “Afraid my boyfriend is getting himself into trouble. You know how Edward is.”

“I walked past him moments ago,” Crane said. “He’s involved in quite the conversation with the Commissioner and the Mayor. Perhaps it will be a while. Why don’t you sit and enjoy yourself for the time being?”

You hesitated, your grip on your wine stem tightening, but you studied him carefully, before your gaze strayed back to the other side of the room. Well…you supposed he was right. Standing here rocking back and forth on your heels wasn’t going to do you any good. It would only serve to make you grow more agitated. Taking another sip of your wine, you sighed, but walked past Crane, searching for an empty seat – and you spotted a small table off to the right, hidden away in a shadowy corner. You quickly sat down and crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in your seat. But to your surprise, Crane followed you and sat at the seat opposite of you. You frowned, your heart leaping into your throat. You immediately looked away, even though you felt his eyes burning holes in your skin.

“Can I help you, Dr. Crane?” you asked after a long moment of silence.

“I’d like to continue our discussion from a few weeks ago,” he said. “I believe it was left…quite unfinished.”

“Ah,” you said, twirling your glass between your fingertips. “Another therapy session.” You leaned back, meeting his gaze, not wanting to back down from his questions. Not this time – you would not give him the satisfaction.

“All right,” you said. “Ask me whatever you want. I’m an open book.”

A low rumble emanated from deep within his throat. “Be careful what you wish for, detective. You seem to have forgotten who you’re talking to.”

You smirked. “Try me,” you said. You had been through enough as is over the last few months – some big scary words from Jonathan Crane couldn’t possibly be any harm, now could they? Especially when you already knew his own game, his own obsession with fear – you simply had to keep from falling into his trap, and everything would be fine. If you could handle Edward, then surely you could handle Crane.

“Very well,” he said. “Does it frighten you? Belonging to a man like Edward?”

“No,” you answered, even though that was a bold-faced lie. Being with Edward did frighten you, but you could not allow Crane to know that.

He raised one brow, an impassive look on his face. “Really? Even after all he’s put you through? Even after every single way he’s made you suffer?”

You paused, letting his words sink in – because you couldn’t deny that you had been through a lot with Edward. A lot. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, there was still that tiny bundle of fear knotted deep in your belly, threatening to rise to the surface. Frowning, you sipped your drink slowly, not breaking eye contact with Crane. His gaze remained just as fixated on you, not giving an ounce of his attention anywhere else.

You lowered your drink back to your lap and said, “Surely it must not bother you to watch people suffer. I’m sure you get off on that sort of thing.”

His head cocked slightly to the side. “Rather crude choice of words, detective.”

“Well, am I wrong? I mean…you put people in horrible, fear-toxin induced experiments for what? For fun? You must find some kind of pleasure in that,” you said.

“I find fear fascinating. It controls every aspect of your life. Every thought, every move you make, every decision,” he said. “You came to this party because you feared what your coworkers would think if you did not show up. You came dressed like…that because you feared making the wrong impression. You drink because you’re afraid if you don’t loosen up, you will not be able to enjoy yourself. Do I need to go on?”

You shifted slightly in your seat, holding back the frustrated scream threatening to tear from your throat, biting down on your tongue. You weren’t sure what, exactly, it was that allowed him to so easily pick you apart and claw your fears from in the inside out – but you knew that every single damn word out of his mouth was true.

But you would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Instead, you set your drink on the table and leaned forward slightly, resting your chin between two fingers. “And what if I said you were wrong? That I’m not afraid?”

“Then I would call you a liar,” he replied.

“And what are you afraid of, Dr. Crane?” you asked, a bite in your voice now.

“I fear nothing,” he said. “I have mastered my fears long ago. You, however, wear them on your sleeve for the whole world to see.”

You were quiet for a moment, considering his words. You had not realized just how much, perhaps, you did show off your emotions. Leaning back a little further in your seat, you studied him, carefully choosing your next words, refusing to let him get under your skin. You leaned forward a little more, not breaking eye contact.

“Let me ask you this, then,” you said. “Why are you so interested in my fears? There are plenty of other people at this party you could be bothering. So why me?”

“Curiosity,” he answered. “Fear is my specialty. My life’s work. I have spent years studying what makes people afraid, what their darkest fears contain. And you…you exude fear. It’s practically radiating off of you, like a flame in the darkness.”

You held your tongue, trying so very hard to give him an ounce of what you were feeling right now – that his words were cutting deep into you, making a bubbling hot anger burrow under your skin. Instead, you took another sip of your drink, draining the glass.

You met his eyes again. “And what do you think my fears are, Dr. Crane?”

“You’re afraid of being vulnerable,” he answered. “Of being exposed. Of losing control of the carefully crafted image you have built for yourself.” He paused, his head cocking slightly to the side. “And most of all, detective, I think you’re afraid of me.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, at that one notion – and the awful, horrible truth was that he was right. Edward had done many terrible things, but he’d never bathed Gotham completely in a cloud of fear toxin or driven people to madness, or been the man to unmask Batman and cause so much death and destruction like Crane had. Crane was…different.

And he terrified you.

“Did I strike a nerve?” he asked when you said nothing, his eyes slowly scanning every inch of your face. “Your silence speaks volumes. You present yourself to the world as though you are unbothered, but deep down, you fear how people perceive you. And most of all, you’re afraid of what I’m capable of. You’re afraid of what I might do to you?”

“And what might you to do to me, Dr. Crane?” you asked, your voice low. And in that moment – there was nothing and nobody else in the room. It was just you and him, alone, the air sucked from your lungs, a strange bundle of warmth melding together with the fear in your stomach, shooting all the way down to your clit. The sounds of the party drifted into nothing but faded whispers, long forgotten.

“There are many things I could do to you, detective,” he said, his eyes never once breaking from yours, his voice low. “Things that would have you trembling in fear, quaking underneath the effects of my toxin, begging for mercy. Would you like me to tell you some of the things I could do to you?”

“Very well,” you said – because you refused to budge. You refused to show weakness, especially to someone like him. He could try all he wanted, but he would not frighten you, make you run screaming like a child in the night.

“Seeing is much more effective than hearing, now isn’t it?” he asked.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your eyes finally pulling away to glance down at his hand – as if steadying yourself for the moment he had a vial of his toxin at the ready – but his hands were completely empty. Your gaze shifted back to him again, and underneath the table, your legs began to tremble out of your control. Fear was a cold knot in your stomach, turning your blood to ice, causing a clamminess to crawl across your skin.

“You’re trembling,” he noted, his gaze lowering slightly. “Is it fear, or something else?”

“I’m just cold,” you said quickly, attempting to brush him off.

“Is that so?” he asked, one of his brows raised in clear disregard for what you said. “Your body is showing signs of clear distress. Dilated pupils. Flushed skin. Or is it not distress you’re feeling, detective, but something…else?”

Shit. How was he so capable of reading you so easily? You narrowed your eyes, anger rushing hot through every limb, spreading like wildfire through your veins – but beyond that, there was a spark of something rippling just under the surface, something dark and wicked stirring to life in your heart, reawakening your darkest fantasies.

“Something akin to arousal?” he continued.

You sucked in a sharp breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. “That’s a ridiculous insinuation,” you murmured, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue.

“Fear and arousal often go hand in hand,” he said, his voice low, smooth.

“Or, perhaps, you’re completely misreading my physiological responses,” you said.

“Ah, yes,” he said, almost with a bored sigh. “And what, pray tell, do you think is causing this…physiological response of yours?”

“Adrenaline,” you answered, quickly. “It makes your heart beat faster. Makes you shake, makes your pupils dilate. That sort of thing.”

“But that’s not what this is, is it, detective?” he asked, raising his brows. “You’re not in any danger. You’re not preparing to flee. No, this is something much more…intimate.”

There was something in the way the word intimate rolled off his tongue, so full of dark possession, that your insides squirmed, that excitement rushed through your veins, molding together with a hot anger burning brightly inside of you.

“I doubt you’re one to talk about the specifics of intimacy, Crane,” you said, finally.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, burning that flame even brighter inside of you, causing it to stir to life. The way he was looking at you – studying you – as if you were a lab rat, made your skin crawl. But it wasn’t just the way his cold, calculating gaze studied you, it was the way his words dug into your skin, picking you apart piece by never-ending piece. And here you were, finding yourself sucked into his words, into his every display of intelligent superiority, in a way that was not boastful or full of ego – the complete opposite of Edward.

Edward. Shit. Where even was he? You suddenly backed away, looking around the room once more, searching for him – but still, you saw no sign of him. No green suit stood out amongst the sea of black and blues and browns. And instead of going off to find him, you were sitting here in your own little bubble with Jonathan Crane, feeling a pulsing in your clit, a dampening between your thighs – because he was right. So fucking right.

You were completely fucking aroused.

And you were done with this conversation.

Scowling, you quickly stood up. “Thank you for this enlightening conversation, Dr. Crane. But I’m going to find my boyfriend now,” you said. Turning on your heels, you stormed across the room and searched for any sign of Edward, but there was still none.

Groaning under your breath, you made your way back over to the drink table and snatched up another glass of wine, sipping slowly, trying to clear your mind and body of all thoughts of Jonathan Crane. Bastard, you thought. How dare he put you in such a compromising position, make you feel so vulnerable, as if you were on display for the world to see? You took another sip of your drink, relishing in the taste, when you suddenly felt a presence behind you – a different one, an unfamiliar one, and you glanced over your shoulder to find Crane standing behind you, just inches away. Nerves trickled up your spine and you shuddered, that delicious heat once more pooling in your belly at his proximity, at the smell of his cologne, at his cruel gaze, which was once more fixated on you.

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your hips: a soft, featherlight touch, but enough to make the breath catch in your throat, a small gasp escape your lips – especially when you felt him brush against your backside.

His lips were suddenly at your ear, “Come with me.”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, and for the first time, you saw the very delicate hint of a smile curved at the edge of his lips. Barely there, but noticeable enough – and there was something in his gaze that made warmth pool in your belly, made your heart thump so quickly you could hardly stand it.

Follow me, his cruel gaze said. But it was not a suggestion. It was a command.

Hesitantly, you set your drink back down, searching the crowd once more for Edward, but you could not find him. You were growing angrier by the second, a hot prickling underneath your skin like you were being stabbed by a hundred knives. Following Crane was a stupid idea, but you needed to put an end to this…whatever this strange attraction was, and you did not want to make a scene here, in front of all of these people. They already thought badly enough of you as is.

Jonathan slipped through the crowd, disappearing out of your view, but you weaved through the sea of people to follow him, coming to one of the quiet halls of the museum. He was already ahead of you, leading the way, and you scowled, stomping after him, fire burning in your veins, turning your blood to molten liquid. He wandered down one corridor, disappearing around one corner, and you quickened your steps – but just as you came around, his hand was suddenly on your wrist, the other at your throat, pushing you gently against the wall. You gasped, a wave of fear washing over you as he pressed you against the glass of an exhibit.

“Ssh,” he said quietly, deep in his voice. “You don’t want the others to hear us, now do you?” His cold, blue eyes studied your face with a strange intensity.

“What game are you playing at, Crane?” you hissed. “If Edward finds out about this—”

“Edward already knows about this,” he said, cutting you off.

You blinked, surprised, taken aback by his words. You sucked in a slow, steadied breath, trying desperately to control your breathing, your heartrate, your fear. “What?”

“I have asked for his permission,” he said lowly, his breath tickling at your skin.

“To do what?” you whispered, terror clawing up your throat.

“To share you,” he answered without hesitation.

If this was any other man, you might have laughed. Might have believed this was some sort of sick joke – but this was no ordinary man. It was Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, and he was not a joking man. Every inch of his expression was passive. Emotionless. Serious.

He was utterly, utterly serious.

“Edward would never share me,” you whispered, feeling hot defiance rise in your belly.

“Perhaps not with any of the other denizens of Gotham,” he said. “But with me…I’m a different matter entirely.”

You couldn’t help it – your jaw dropped open as confusion and terror and all clawed at you at once, digging into your insides, causing that horrible warmth to pool in your stomach, to travel its way down to your aching clit. Being pinned against the wall like this – trapped – it sent you spiraling, in that way that flared to life your darkest desires, fanning the flames of pleasure and excitement and wanton need.

“You don’t believe me?” Jonathan said after a moment. “Perhaps you should ask Edward yourself.” His fingers finally loosened from around your neck, the digits sliding off delicately, taking his time as he let you go. He took one step back and gestured to a private, out of the way office, far from the festivities taking place.

You hesitated, curling your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms. You had every reason to smack him right then and there – but you would not allow him to see your fear, to see how frightened you truly were. If this was true…you wanted to hear it straight from Edward’s own mouth. Turning on your heels, you stormed into the office – and sure enough, you found Edward sitting in the chair, leaning back, one leg crossed over the other in a lazy-like position – the very epitome of a man with too big of an ego. And the boyfriend you kind of wanted to knock over the head right about now.

You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “Edward,” you said, a bite in your voice. “Is what he says true?”

A hazy look filled his eyes, and he smirked. “Yes, detective. Crane is telling the truth. We have…come to an arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement?” you asked carefully. As the words slipped from your mouth, you glanced back to find that Jonathan had shut and locked the door behind him. Another bolt of fear and excitement rushed through you as a thousand questions rang through your mind. This couldn’t possibly be going where you thought it was going, could it?

“One that involves you, my dear,” Edward replied. “You see, Crane here has taken quite an interest in you. He finds you…how should I put it, fascinating? You know Crane, always needing to study everything around him.” He waved his hand, scoffing under his breath.

“I’m not something to be studied,” you said, angrily.

“Come now, detective,” Jonathan said, stepping forward until he was standing side-by-side with you, his arms crossed behind his back. His gaze roved carefully over you, inch by inch, making your skin crawl with a delicious heat.

“Edward is right. I find you quite fascinating,” he continued, taking a step closer to you. One of his hands snaked out, grasping your chin between two fingers. “There’s something about you that has Edward so trapped under your spell. You have a power over him, a power I can’t explain. And I need to know why. I need to understand it…to taste it. To taste you.”

You shuddered against his touch, the urge to step back all consuming, but when your gaze slid to Edward – it was as if he pinned you there completely, not daring you to budge an inch. As if he wanted you there, in Crane’s grasp, in this very moment, at their mercy. Jonathan’s grip tightened on your chin, forcing you to look back at him.

“You’re not something to be studied, detective,” Crane said. “You’re something to be enjoyed. And Edward here has finally learned to share.”

His words were like lightning through you, sparking to life a powerful heat in your belly, an aching, a desperate need to be consumed. But no words would come out of your mouth, and you stood there in silent horror and awe, completely unable to process what was happening in this moment. You could not believe their boldness – to think how easily they lured you away to have this discussion, to be used as if you were some kind of plaything.

Your gaze flicked to Edward again. You should be enraged. Insulted. But instead, you’re standing here, your mind completely blank of what to do or even say – the only coherent thought you can even come up with is the very real realization that your clit is throbbing, aching, at the very thought of being taken by these two men – these two very dangerous men – and used in whatever way they desire. The very idea that they both were fascinated with you left a fire burning in your belly, stirring awake those dark desires in your heart.

“Is this true, Edward?” you finally managed to ask.

He nodded, slowly. “Admittedly, I would prefer not to share you, but…” He paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. “Crane can be quite persuasive, and I find myself curious to see what the Master of Fear is capable of doing to you. Can he touch you the way I do? Make you cum the way I do? Make you scream his name the way I make you scream mine?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you shivered at his words – because you can’t help but he just as curious, too. Your gaze strayed back to Crane once more, finding him continuing to study you with a close eye, a curious gaze, as if wondering the same thing Edward was.

You shook your head, scoffing under your breath. “And how long have you been having this discussion behind my back?”

“Long enough,” Crane answered. His grip never lessened on your throat.

Long enough. His words echoed on a loop in your mind. You did not appreciate being spoken about behind your back – and as outraged as you should have been, you could not help but feel just a bit drawn to this situation entirely, to the possibilities that could arise from such an…arrangement. But you were supposed to be with Edward. He was your boyfriend. Something about doing this did not feel right; it felt like a betrayal, in a way. Your gaze flickered back to him, studying his face, but you had come to know Edward well enough that he was completely and utterly serious.

“What if I say no?” you asked.

“If you were going to say no, you would have walked out of this room already, detective,” Crane said. “You would not have followed me into a dark, secluded hallway. You would not have followed me into this room. You would not be here now, allowing me to touch you.” As if to prove his point, his fingers slid down your throat in a smooth motion, once more grasping the question mark pendant draped around your neck. He stroked it with his thumb, but once he let it go, he reached out with two fingers, placing them onto your pulse point.

“Racing heart,” he murmured. “You’re not afraid of us, are you, detective?”

“No,” you said, perhaps a little too quickly. Your fears about being around Edward had faded away into whispers long ago. But…

“Or,” Jonathan continued. “Are you afraid of me?”

The breath caught in your throat, your pulse quickening. Because, the truth was right there, staring you right in the face: you were afraid of Jonathan Crane. He terrified you, caused horror to race through you like lightning, to bundle up in a cold knot in your stomach. Finally, you took a step back, needing a moment to distance yourself. You crossed your arms over yourself, shaking your head as another low scoff escaped your mouth. This was an absurd proposition. Asinine. What they were asking…what Edward was asking…

You spun around on your heels, walking away from Jonathan and over to the desk, wearing Edward remained, still watching you carefully. You opened your mouth to say something – anything – any kind of insult or rage-filled words. But nothing came out. Because as angry as you were, you still felt it: the strange, magnetic pull to both of these dangerous men. And as afraid as you were, your own curiosity could not be ignored.

“What are you afraid of, detective?” Jonathan asked, his cool voice filling the quiet room. “Being shunned? Made to feel like our plaything? Losing your precious paramour in the process as another man claims you for himself?”

“Another man,” you said silently, glancing over your shoulder. “Meaning you.”

Jonathan only answered with a sly smile curving at the edge of his lips.

“I know this is quite a lot to ask of you so suddenly,” Edward said, his voice gentle. “But I assure you, detective, nothing will change between us.”

So suddenly, you wanted to say, but held your tongue – as a slow realization washed over you. Over the last few weeks, your sexual tension around Jonathan had been growing more than you realized – perhaps because they’d been planning this moment for some time. The looks Jonathan had given you over the last few weeks, the words he’d spoken – it had all been a part of their plan, and you’d been blind to see it. You glared down at Edward, anger rushing hot through your veins like a wildfire.

Footsteps behind you got your attention, and before you could react, Jonathan was suddenly behind you. You felt his breath on your neck, before one of his hand snaked around your shoulder, once more grabbing at your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. Another bolt of worry shot through every limb – but what was worse was the heat that traveled all the way down to your groin, aching, dampening arousal between your thighs.

“I can see it in your eyes, detective,” Jonathan said. “You want this as much as we do. You need this. To be wanted. Needed. Craved.” His breath tickled at your skin, each word out of his mouth making chills run up and down your spine.

Because the goddamn truth was that he was right.

All your life, you’d dreamed of being desired, wanted, needed. Feared being unloved, used, cast aside as nothing. And now, to have two dangerous men wanting you, so much that they were willing to share you…it caused a ripple of delicious heat to pool in your core. It stirred to life all of this wicked desires in your heart, driving you to the brink of madness. And the worst part was that Jonathan Crane had you completely and utterly figured out. It was like he could see straight down into your soul, finding your fears with just one look, and whisper them in your ear, revealing them to you in all their frightening glory.

Angrily, you scowled, yanking your chin from his grasp once more, crossing your arms over yourself. As much as they wanted you to play this game with them, you would not give in so easily – not without understanding the terms of this…arrangement. Slowly, you turned back around, glancing at both of them; they stood there with hungry looks in their eyes, as if waiting for your next move, the next words out of your mouth. You wandered back over to the desk and hoisted yourself onto it, crossing one leg over the other, placing your hands behind you to keep yourself propped up. Jonathan regarded you with a raised brow, as if interested in your next move. Good, you thought. If they could play this game, you could play it, too.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Edward sit up a little straighter from his spot at the desk. You glanced at him, then back at Jonathan; both their eyes were narrowed, full of curiosity, mirroring the same expression of patience and hungry interest.

“Well,” you finally said after a long moment. “What exactly are the terms of this arrangement you two made behind my back?”

Edward pushed back from the desk, quickly standing as he said, “The terms are simple, my dear. I am so generously sharing you with Crane – with your approval, of course. He must ask for my permission if he would like to have you for an evening.”

He took a step closer, reaching forward, capturing your chin between his fingers, running his thumb along your bottom lip in a way that made heat pool in your core. “And you, my dear, are not allowed to play favorites. We both shall have equal access to you – at all times. Whenever we want. How we want. Wherever we want.”

You sucked in a slow, controlled breath, letting his words wash over you as that delicious heat throbbed between your legs. The very idea of being taken by these two men – one who had a hold on your heart, the other you still weren’t sure yet – but the very idea excited you.

And angered you.

You narrowed your eyes, meeting Edward’s gaze. “I’m not a toy to be passed around,” you said, a bite in your voice now.

“Of course not,” Edward said, his thumb now slowly stroking right below your bottom lip with care. “This is an arrangement that will benefit all of us. “Our curiosities will be satisfied, and you shall be quite satisfied, detective.” He smirked, that tricky glint in his eyes gleaming.

You looked away again, your gaze straying somewhere far across the other side of the room. A thousand words hung on your lips, but you could not seem to get them out. You had so many questions, but your mind was drawing a blank, too wrapped up in your own terror and excitement and desire. To be so…needed. Wanted. Desired. By these two men…it alighted a fire within you, awakening so many dark desires in your heart, bringing to life a darkness that resided in the very depths of your soul. You shivered against Edward’s touch, trembling, fear and desire pooling in your stomach, melding together as one.

“Is it fear or desire that makes you tremble so?” Jonathan asked, stepping forward.

“Both,” you answered, because that was the honest truth.

They exchanged a look, and Edward’s hand slipped from your chin. He finally took a step back, disappearing into the dark shadows of the office to lean against the wall and cross his arms, making room for Jonathan to step in front of you now. He studied you with a careful eye, his gaze roaming every inch of your skin.

“Dilated pupils. Flushed skin,” he said quietly, as if more to himself, but his gaze dropped to your chest, pausing there for a moment; you glanced down, realizing that your nipples had hardened, slightly poking through the fabric of your dress.

Jonathan glanced back at you. “Signs of your arousal are clearly evident.”

Your gaze slid from Jonathan back to Edward, who was watching the entire interaction silently, his head cocked slightly to the side. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the blood rushing through your ears, the warmth between your legs – Jonathan was clearly right. You were aroused. You were terrified.

And you were also completely at their mercy.

Your gaze shifted back to Jonathan. “And what exactly do you want out of this, Crane?”

He took another slow, calculated step forward until he was but millimeters from you. Slowly, his hand reached out once more to capture your chin between two fingers, slightly lifting your face to look directly into your eyes.

“I want you,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “But I will not unless you give me permission. Such brutalities are far beneath me. I will only touch you if you say so.”

He was but millimeters away from you, and you hesitated, a sharp breath leaving your lips. You glanced over Jonathan’s shoulder once more, searching for Edward, and he gave you a slow nod. Giving his permission. But if you went down this route, you knew the utter truth: there would be no going back. There would be no way to forget this happened. Edward already had his claws in you, and if you allowed Crane to do the same…there would be no changing that. You would be theirs – both of theirs – completely.

And, perhaps, the truth was that you wanted to be.

You glanced back at Jonathan. “Then take me,” you whispered.

That was all he needed. In an instant, his lips were on yours, crushing, bruising. One of his hands grabbed your hip, fingers digging into your flesh. His other hand snaked up, threading itself in your hair, tugging lightly. His kisses were not gentle – they were rough, possessive, his tongue invading your mouth with almost a brutal possessiveness. You gasped lightly, your tongue meeting his, sending a shiver down your spine. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as his mouth moved from your lips, across your jaw, down your neck. His lips were rough from scarring, and he smelled of a strange mixture of musk and woods, the scent invading your nose. His teeth nipped at your neck, his tongue snaking out to massage each small bite, as if soothing your flesh. Slowly, testing, you spread your legs slightly, allowing him to nestle himself in between them – and you could already feel the hardness of his own arousal suddenly pressing against your core. You leaned into him, arching your back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth and teeth found that sensitive spot on your neck – the one that made you crumble beneath him. You shuddered against him, his body hard and lean – leaner than Edward’s, and you found yourself comparing the way Jonathan kissed you to the way Edward did.

A low rumble escaped Jonathan’s mouth, and his onslaught of kisses continued, working their way across the delicate flesh of your collarbone. He brushed your necklace aside and let his tongue drag across your skin, causing a shudder to pass through you. His tongue was warm, wet, sending a delicious heat rippling across every inch of your body, shooting pleasure all the way down to your clit. You gasped as he brought his lips up the other side of your jaw, as if to savor the other side of your face, his teeth nipping once more at your skin.

Opening your eyes slightly, you found Edward continuing to watch with a strange curiosity in his gaze, his eyes narrowed and focused on the scene at hand. At watching another man touch you, have his way with you – sending another tremble through you, bundling fear deep in your core, tightening in your stomach.

Just then, Jonathan’s hand gripped your chin once more, forcing you to look back at him, his eyes cold and calculating. “Don’t look at him, pet,” he said quietly. “Focus on me. Or are you afraid of what he might be thinking?”

The sharp intake of breath made you tremble again, and you licked your lips before saying, “Yes…I’m afraid.”

“No need to be afraid,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Fear is good. It reminds you of the dangers that surround you. After all, you’re here with us, aren’t you? You have every right to be afraid.”

You were quiet for a beat – because you were afraid of where this would lead, what would come of it, what Edward would think to watch as you were ravished by another man. But your own curiosity, your own pull towards Jonathan, was too much to bear, too confusing, further drawing you into that darkest part of yourself that you did not want to admit to.

His grip on your chin tightened. “Fear governs everything you do,” he continued. “And it also gives way to more…primal desires, detective. Desires you try to deny yourself. Desires you do not want to admit to, that frighten you. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” you whispered, knowing every word out of his mouth was right.

His cold eyes narrowed, and he backed away slightly, studying you carefully. His cold, cruel gaze was enough to cause your trembling body to tremble even more, to cause panic swelling in your stomach. A part of you desperately wanted to bolt out of this room, to flee, but you were glued to the spot – your desire too great to ignore. You fought the urge to look over at Edward again, despite how great your curiosity was, and kept your eyes fixated on Jonathan instead, watching as his hand snaked up to stroke at your face, in a motion that could be disguised for gentle, but you saw it for what it was: complete control. His hand brushed across your cheek – before suddenly gripping into your hair once more, tangling in your strands, his nails digging slightly into your scalp in that painful, pleasurable sort of way. A soft gasp escaped your lips as his roughness, and you trembled against him.

His eyes roved over you carefully, as if taking every inch of you in, as if trying to figure out what to do with you next. You couldn’t help but wonder how experienced he was, how many men or women he’d been with, what kind of things he was into. You smirked, a heat of desire pulsing in your belly at the way he looked at you with such primal intention.

“Undress,” he finally said, a low command, leaving no room for arguing.

You blinked, a bit taken aback, but your gaze slid to the door. “What if someone—”

“It’s been taken care of,” Edward spoke up. “No need to worry, my dear. No one will be coming into this room to disturb us.”

Your gaze flickered back to Jonathan. His expression was emotionless, unyielding, not giving away anything to what he might be thinking. He was completely and utterly controlled. Fear knotted in your stomach, but with trembling hands, you slipped out of your dress. The cool air brushed across your naked skin, your nipples growing hard; you shimmied out of the dress and let it pool at the bottom of the desk, leaving you in nothing but a lacy green thong that you’d specifically picked out for Edward. The heavy swell of your breasts were revealed for both men to see, and Jonathan’s eyes immediately dropped to your pert, pink nipples. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the dampness of your own arousal between your legs. Every part of you was on high alert, on edge, teetering over the precipice of fear and terror. You had never done this before – never had sex while another man watched, especially if that other man was your own boyfriend, and you were in a room with two of Gotham’s most dangerous men, but that was beside the point.

Slowly, Jonathan reached out, testing the weight of your left breast in his hand, his thumb stroking over the nipple gently. You sucked in a soft breath at the small jolt of pleasure that radiated through your breast. His hands were rough, calloused, and he pinched your nipple between two fingers, earning another gasp from you. You trembled at his touch, at the fire his fingers left in their wake across your skin. His eyes were narrowed, studying your reaction, and you titled your head back slightly, arching your back so he had better access to your breasts. He cupped the other breast in his hand, needing and palming at it, his touch growing rougher and more needy by the second. A low whine left your lips, and you closed your eyes, relaxing into his touch – but just as you did, you felt his hand at your throat again.

“Eyes on me, pet,” he said, and your eyes snapped open, another jolt of fear radiating throughout your body. You met his gaze again, studying the emotionless expression on his face, as his fingers trailed downward, carefully grazing down your stomach to the hem of your thong.

He glanced at you again, then back down, before slowly lowering to his knees. Your breath caught in your throat, and you shuddered as his gaze never left yours. Your breaths were shallow, uncertain, nerves and fear writhing in your belly like a parasite. Slowly, he leaned in, snaking his tongue out to delicately brush across your inner thigh – only inches away from where you most wanted him to be. His tongue ran lines down your inner thigh, tracing in circular patterns, before reaching back up to the bend of your leg – and then, suddenly, he bit down.

You gasped at the sudden pain, jolting slightly, trembling in both pain and pleasure at the sharpness of his teeth. But as quickly as the bite came, so did his tongue once more, swirling around the bite as if to soothe it. You glanced at Edward once more, finding him still standing there, watching with a curious, lustful gaze in his eye. You glanced down at his groin, noticing the hardness of his own erection in the confines of his trousers, and your insides warmed at the idea of him being turned on by this entire interaction – even if there was a lingering jealousy in his gaze. You smirked slyly, spreading your legs a little further for Jonathan to have access to. He glanced up at you from in between your legs, before rising back up. The look in his eyes was full of a cold, cruelness to them, not a hint of warmth in his cloudy gaze – and just that look made you tremble more, made the hairs on the back of your neck rise on end. You were sure if he could devour you whole, he would.

Suddenly, his hand shot out once more, and his hands tangled in your hair once again, fingers digging tightly in. “Show me how you pleasure yourself, detective.”

His words took you aback, but your mouth fell open slightly in surprise. You hesitated, but slowly reached in between your legs. Pushing your thong aside slightly, you dove two fingers into your own wetness. With your other hand, you used one finger to swirl around your clit in slow, meticulous motions, causing a bolt of pleasure to shudder through you. It surged through your thighs, down to the tips of your toes, across every inch of your skin, and your mouth dropped open silently as you continued to fuck yourself with your own fingers. He watched silently, before he leaned forward, his lips at your ear.

“Does it frighten you, detective? To have two men watch you while you pleasure yourself?” he whispered lowly. “To see you completely unraveled, vulnerable, at our mercy?”

You shuddered at his words, trying to fight the fear coursing through your veins. Trying to keep some shred of dignity you still had left. As if in answer, your gaze flickered past Jonathan and over to Edward, who still remained bathed in the shadows, watching with strange look in his eyes.

“Don’t look at him,” Jonathan barked out, his voice low and cruel. “Focus on me, pet.”

Your eyes snapped back to him, and a low gasp escaped your lips as ripples of pleasure bundled underneath your skin. Every inch of you was on fire, your brain going fuzzy from the pleasure of your own fingers working their magic against you in just the way you liked. You could feel yourself builder higher and higher towards a release – and having two men watch you made it all the more sweeter.

Jonathan reached forward, snaking his hand through your hair once more, tightening his fingers at your scalp. You gasped as he pulled onto the strands, tilting your head back slightly, his cold gaze never leaving yours for an instant.

“Is it the thrill of being watched that makes you tremble like this?” he asked lowly, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. “Or the danger?”

The only answer you gave was a soft gasp. Heat flushed across your skin. Here you were: propped up on this desk, your legs spread wide, revealing the most vulnerable part of yourself for both men to see. Wetness coated your fingers, and you pumped two fingers in and out of yourself, gasping in tandem at the way your other finger swirled around your clit. Pleasure bundled in your stomach, tightening in your abdomen, knots of pure ecstasy rising higher and higher with each stroke, each thrust, each motion.

Jonathan studied you carefully, his eyes roving over every inch of your body, pausing to watch you fuck yourself. He showed no signs of emotion across his face, and you couldn’t even tell if he was enjoying watching this. Your fingers began to slow slightly, wondering if he was growing bored with this, but his cold voice filled the room once more.

“Does it scare you, detective?” he asked, leaning forward, his lips just brushing the shell of your ear. “To be so completely at the mercy of two men who are watching you right now?”

His words sent another rippled of fear down your spine. It tightened in your stomach, molding together with your pleasure, causing your heart to beat like a wild animal against your ribcage. Sweat beaded on your brow as your entire body flushed from head to toe, sending a shiver across your skin. Your breath quickened at his question, your fingers slowing their movements as you considered his question—

“I did not say you could stop,” Jonathan said, his voice a low command.

The words out of his mouth made you pause for a millisecond, before you resumed the work of your fingers: pumping in and out of yourself, swirling your finger around your clit. You leaned back a little more against the table, but his fingers in your hair did not let up, only tightened harder, sending a small ripple of pain across your skull. You were completely at his mercy, just his words enough to edge you closer to the brink. Your fear melding together with the pleasure in a strange kind of concoction – somehow enhancing your pleasure in a way you’d never experienced before. You snuck another glance at Edward, and he stood back, his eyes narrowed, and lips pressed into a thin line. But that look – of knowing your own boyfriend was watching another man do this to you, it sparked another bolt of fear down your spine, and yet at the very same time, it turned on you to heights you’d never experienced before. Jonathan’s hands released from around your hair, and he stepped back slightly, just enough to take in the full sight of you in your needy, wanton mess.

“Find your release, detective,” he said. “But keep your eyes on me as you do.”

You nodded, barely, breathless as your eyes found his cold, cruel gaze once more. He was staring at you as if you were a bug under his feet, something to be squashed entirely. Fear knotted in your belly, creeping up your spine – but you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers, quickening your pace as your climax teetered right on the edge – and suddenly, the little bundle of pleasure grew higher and higher – before exploding throughout your body. You gasped, crying out as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure coursed through your body. Your legs and hips bucked as you continued to work your fingers against yourself, chasing the rest of your high. But as the sensations trickled away, you finally removed your hands and relaxed against the desk, sucking in slow, deep breaths. Every inch of your skin was on fire, and a flush crept across your skin. You raised your eyes to him, looking back and forth between the two men, feeling completely exposed and raw and vulnerable. You’d never…touched yourself in front of two men before, not like this. Not when there were two pairs of eyes to look at you.

“Very good, detective,” Jonathan said quietly, but his voice held no ounce of praise. Just that patented cold, calculating nature to it. “Now. On your knees.”

You sat up a bit, sucking in a breath, a funny feeling at what he wanted next arising within you. You fought against looking at Edward once more, despite your every instinct screaming to, and slowly, you pushed yourself off the desk and lowered to your knees in front of Jonathan. Your knees knocked together, your entire body trembling. It wasn’t like you’d ever given a man a blowjob before – but something about this…about giving it to a man like Jonathan while Edward watched…it was frightening. Terrifying.

And exhilarating, all at the same time.

Jonathan was quiet as he reached down, undoing the buckle of his belt. With only a few smooth moves of his deft fingers, he slipped his cock from his pants: engorged, glistening with precum at the tip. Your eyes widened at the sight. He wasn’t quite as long as Edward, but he was a bit girthier, and thin, throbbing veins ran along his shaft. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, your body prickling with heat as you gazed up at him.

“Open your mouth,” he said, another command. “And let me in.”

Your mouth opened slightly, a moment of hesitation, before you opened your jaw a little wider. His tip approached you carefully, before his cockhead slid into your mouth. Inch by inch, he slid himself inside of you. You wrapped your mouth around him, breathing through your nose as you massaged the underside of his member with your tongue. One of his hands came to tighten itself in your hair again, his nails digging into your scalp. He tasted of salt and sweat and skin, a brown patch of curls poking through the confines of his pants. He filled your mouth completely, and he slid in and out of you with careful strokes.

“Detective,” he said, almost a groan. “I believe you know what to do, yes?”

You nodded, gazing up at him while he remained in your mouth. Using your other hand, you wrapped it around his shaft, pumping slowly in combination with your mouth and tongue. A low groan escaped his lips as you worked against his length, taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly at the intrusion, but breathed through your nose. Soft groans escaped his lips, and when you looked up again, you found his head tilted back slightly, still gazing down at you, watching your every move. You moaned softly around his member, taking him all the way in, over and over again. His fingers tightened in your hair as a low, guttural groan escaped his lips, and you smirked, watching him come undone. It was quite a sight to behold: the Master of Fear with his head titled back, losing himself to the pleasure you offered. You moaned against his length again, taking him deeper, faster, and he slowly bucked his hips into your mouth in tandem slowly and meticulously, every movement of his precise and controlled. Your core warmed, arousal dampening in between your legs, and your gaze flickered to Edward, still standing in the shadows with a narrowed, lustful gaze. Warm pleasure pooled in your core, and you fought the urge to reach down and touch yourself again, too busy giving Jonathan the pleasure he so craved at this very moment.

Just as you began to quicken your pace, he suddenly pulled back, slipping himself from your mouth. You glanced up at him, a bit surprised at how he’d pulled away, and a bout of disappointment rippled through you. His member was coated in your saliva, glistening in the light. You sat back on your knees, his taste lingering on your tongue.

Jonathan reached down, placing a hand across the top of your head, trailing his fingers down your cheek and to your chin, where he lifted your head up slightly. “That pretty mouth of yours has certainly had a bit of practice, now hasn’t it?” He glanced at Edward for a moment.

Edward’s smirk grew, his lustful gaze twinkling. “Jealous, Crane?”

A bolt of pleasure knotted in your stomach again, and a sense of pride swelled inside of you, as if happy to be pleasing Edward by doing this – even if this was sucking off another dangerous man, one who made you tremble with fear. You weren’t sure what Crane was going to do next, but that fear further increased inside of you, balling into a cold, hard knot at the center of your ribcage. But more than that, you feared how Edward was thinking, feeling, if he was going to lash out in a jealous rage and take you for his own.

“Look at me,” Jonathan said again, forcing your eyes back to him. His head cocked slightly to the side, as if studying you with cruel intention. “Do you fear what he might be thinking? That you’re here, servicing me instead? Or…do you wish it was him in my place?”

You can’t help how much your trembling, a cold chill brushing across your naked flesh. Your teeth are practically chattering with the fear – and you can’t even bring yourself to answer him, to make your terror known. But you can see it in his eyes: how much he’s enjoying your fear, your terror, and you can’t pull your eyes away.

His grip tightened on your chin. “Answer me,” he said.

“I…” you struggled to find the words. “I…I’m afraid of what he’s thinking. I’m afraid he’s going to look at me like…” You paused, the words stilling in your mouth, heavy on your tongue. Like I’m nothing but his plaything. Like a whore. Like a toy to be passed around.

Jonathan quirked a brow, seeming to understand what you were going to say. But his hand finally dropped from your chin, and he took a step back, tucking himself into his pants. “Like what?” he asked, a cruel smirk twitching at the edge of his lips.

Great. He was going to make you say it. Of course he was.

“Like I’m a whore,” you whispered. “Like I’ll be…tainted after this. Like he won’t want me anymore.” The words tumbled out of you, and it took you a moment to realize you were shaking, your fears bundling deep in your stomach, spreading a coldness through your limbs.

“Tainted?” Jonathan asked, his head tilting slightly to the side. “My dear, you were tainted by Nigma the very moment you let his cock enter you. The moment you spread your legs for him, every inch of you was poisoned by his narcissist, egotistical nature.”

Edward scoffed under his breath, a sound of disgust. “I’m sure that speech will really get her going, Crane,” he said.

Jonathan glanced back at Edward. “Why don’t we see, hmm?” His gaze shifted back to you once more. “Back on the desk, pet. And remove that silly little thing.” He nodded to your thong, now soaked through.

Nodding, you stood and slowly slipped out of the thong, stepping out of it one leg at a time. You let it fall onto the floor atop your dress, heat burning your cheeks, spreading through every inch of your flesh. Your skin was on fire with desire and terror and everything in between. You hoisted yourself back onto the desk, using your arms to prop yourself up behind you.

Jonathan met your gaze once more. “Spread your legs.”

His command was not gentle. There was no warmth to his voice, no seduction, just a pure, calculated coldness. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you listened, spreading your thighs apart, revealing your most intimate spot. His gaze rove over your naked body, before landing on your womanhood. He took a step closer, resting one hand on your thigh, his fingers digging in. With the other hand, he tentatively reached forward, stroking at your wet folds with a curious carefulness. You sucked in a breath, preparing yourself for what he might do next; he brushed aside your folds, toying with them, before he slid two fingers into you. A soft breath escaped your lips as his long digits filled you, and slowly, he pulled them back – and then inserted them again, repeating the motion over and over again in a slow manner.

“So wet,” he mumbled, as if he was making an observation and you were an experiment. He continued the slow motions of his fingers, in and out, in and out, and you tilted your head back slightly, soft gasps escaping your lips.

“Touch yourself, detective,” he said, his voice once more a command. “I want to see you find your release on my fingers.”

You didn’t hesitate – you were too caught up in this, in the heat and desire, to argue. Your finger immediately found your clit, and you began stroking yourself in the motion you enjoyed. As you did, his fingers began to pump out of you harder, faster, at a furious pace, fucking you. You gasped at the sensation of his fingers and you stroking your clit – together in tandem, slowly bundling pleasure in your core. Sweat beaded down your brow and soft gasps and moans escaped your lips out of your control. You titled your head back, not daring to shut your eyes, fearing Jonathan would simply command you to keep them open. But as he fucked you with his fingers, your legs began to tremble and shake, your whole body tightening with the pleasure he gave you. Your gasps grew louder as you felt that pleasure building inside of you, rocking your core, igniting a fire in your belly. God, you were close – so fucking close – and just as you swirled your finger around your clit again – that band inside you snapped, releasing a wave of ecstasy across your skin. A loud cry escaped your lips, and Jonathan’s fingers only continued to work their magic inside of you. Your fingernails dug into the table as you bucked your hips into his hand, chasing the finality of your orgasm.

As the last of your climax washed over you, you slowly removed your hand, resting it atop the desk, panting as his fingers came to a slow, before he removed them entirely. Jonathan brought his two fingers up, studying the wet sheen coating his fingers, before he opened his mouth – and he licked his fingers clean. The motion made your insides clench and tighten with another bolt of heat, watching with desire as he licked himself of your juices. Your mouth fell open slightly, and your skin prickled with a delicious desire, a desperation to continue this. His eyes never broke from yours as he licked each digit clean, his eyes roaming over you. You couldn’t help but steal a glance over at Edward, who continued to watch with that lustful, jealous gaze burning in his blue eyes. The room was so quiet, all you could hear was the thundering of your heart beating like a rabid animal against your breastbone.

Edward took a step forward, a scoff escaping his lips. “Making her work for it, Crane? The least you could is use your own mouth. Here, why don’t I show you, since you can’t even make her cum properly.”

The breath caught in your throat as you glanced between both men, a bundle of heat stirring within your core. Jonathan glanced at Edward, his eyes cold and narrowed, but he stepped aside and said, “Be my guest, Edward.”

Smirking, Edward approached you, wandering over as he studied you, his eyes roving over every inch of your body. His gaze was full of desire, and you noted the obvious erection pressing against the confines of his pants.

“Edward,” you whispered, but he cupped your face in between your hands as he shushed you, pressing his lips to yours. His kiss was passionate, greedy, as if a clear display of his ownership over you. Like even though he had agreed to share you tonight, you still belonged completely to him.

As he pulled away, his hands dropped down to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he pulled them apart eagerly and lowered to his knees. In an instant, his mouth was on your clit, sucking gently, and you gasped, shuddering at the sensation of his tongue and mouth working against your overly sensitive clit. With two fingers, he inserted them into you, curving them, until he found your G-spot, stroking against the sensitive spot. A low whine escaped your lips as you tilted your head back, practically melting against his mouth, losing yourself to the pleasure he offered. Stars danced in your vision, and your entire body trembled with need and heat – but you were so preoccupied, lost in the feel of Edward’s tongue lapping against your clit, that you didn’t realize Jonathan walked around the side of the desk, coming up behind you.

You felt his breath suddenly at your neck, and he brushed your hair aside, exposing the left side of your neck. Jonathan’s lips were at your ear, his voice a cruel, cold whisper, “Do you fear being at our mercy, detective?” he asked.

As he spoke, his fingers pinched at your nipples, tugging lightly on the swollen bud. You gasped, jerking slightly into Edward’s mouth, but his grip on your thighs tightened, digging his fingers in as he continued to work you with his mouth and tongue. Jonathan rolled the soft bud of your nipple between two fingers, playing with it, twisting lightly. Another soft gasp escaped your lips as your head fell back further, resting against his shoulder.

“Knowing that you’re completely powerless to stop us?” he continued, his breath tickling your skin. “Powerless to the way your body responds to us?”

A low whine escaped your lips. Your brain was a fog of complete pleasure, all thoughts vanished somewhere far away, where you may never find them again. Edward’s fingers moved at a furious pace inside of you as his tongue continued to lick at your clit in slow, meticulous strokes. Pleasure bundled in your core, spreading a wildfire across your skin. You couldn’t form any words, any thought, any care other than drowning in the way Edward fucked you with his tongue while Jonathan played with your breasts, toying at your nipples, his breath hot in your eat. His other hand grabbed at your chin, his fingers trailing upwards towards your mouth.

“Open,” he said, a sharp command.

You obeyed instantly, opening your mouth, and he stuck his first two fingers inside. You could taste your own wetness on his fingers, sweet.

“Suck,” he said.

You closed your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue along the long, dexterous digits, continuing to taste your own juices on his fingers. His other hand continued to palm at your breast, twisting your nipples in a painful, yet pleasurable way that made you gasp around his fingers. Suddenly, he pulled his fingers from your mouth, his hand resting once more around your throat, and he squeezed lightly. A bolt of fear ran down your spine, melding together with the pleasure growing and bundling like a tightening rubber band in your core, threatening to snap, to make you come undone for a third time.

Jonathan looked into your eyes; his own were dark and clouded, filled with that same cold cruelty, as if you were nothing but his own toy to play with. His grip on your throat tightened, and the pleasure in your clit only surged higher. With one hand, you reached forward, gripping your hand tightly into Edward’s hair, urging him to continue as you arched your back, beckoning your soaking cunt further into his mouth. He continued, eagerly sucking on your clit now, and you felt that little bundle of pleasure grow – before it burst completely.

A low cry escaped your lips as your whole body wracked against his mouth, hot-white ecstasy surging through your entire body. You cursed under your breath as your body shook and writhed, your orgasm washing over you, making your toes curl. You tugged at Edward’s hair, whispering his name, losing yourself as you relaxed against Jonathan’s chest, crying out. But just as quickly as it came, the pleasure began to wane. Edward pulled away after a moment, gazing up at you, his lips coated in your wetness. He smirked as he stood up, looking rather pleased with himself.

His eyes flickered to Jonathan. “See, Crane? I didn’t hear her crying out your name.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, and you swallowed, trying to gain your composure. Heat bundled in your womanhood, a pleasurable sensation tingling at your clit; your whole body felt spent and worn, and sweat beaded down your forehead, between the valley of your breasts.

Jonathan made a sound of amusement. “No need to compete, Edward. I’m sure your little toy has enjoyed both of us. Isn’t that right, pet?” He squeezed at your throat again.

Your eyes snapped open, and you looked between them, unable to find the words as you continued to try and catch your breath.

“Well?” Jonathan asked, raising a brow, an expectant look on his face.

“Yes,” you whispered, struggling to find your voice.

“But who did you enjoy more?” Edward asked, raising his own brows. You could see the look in his eyes – the desperation for your approval, for you to choose him.

Well, you had to admit, there was something more pleasurable about him using his tongue instead of making you do it yourself. His question caught you off guard, but you couldn’t help the sly smile that curved at the corners of your mouth. Meeting his eyes, you said, “You, Edward. I enjoyed you more.”

“Ha! Take that, Crane!” Edward cried, smiling triumphantly.

A laugh threatened to bubble up out of your chest, but you swallowed it down. Jonathan made a sound, almost of disapproval, and his fingers only dug further into your throat, making you squirm. It was a little painful, just enough to cause you to tremble in fear, but not enough to frighten you completely. You just felt the tips of his nails grazing against your soft skin, threatening to scrape against your flesh.

Jonathan’s mouth was suddenly at your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. “Such a naughty pet, playing us against each other…is that anyway to behave?”

You pursed your lips. A thousand words hung on your tongue, but you couldn’t help yourself – you were in too deep, too far gone with pleasure and lust and desire to think about anything else other than what was happening right now, in this very room, with these two men. They offered you something you’d never been given before: pleasure and attention like you’d never had, never seen, as they worshipped you like you were something to be cherished.

But you couldn’t help the bratty remark that left your lips, “It is when you two decided to go behind my back and make this little arrangement,” you said, quietly, voice barely a breath.

That made a low chuckle rumble from Edward’s throat. “Fair enough. But now I believe you’re just being a naughty little tease, aren’t you, detective?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your smirk growing. You couldn’t help it – the very idea of being here with both of these dangerous men, who both wanted you…it was terrifying and exciting all the same, and a part of you wanted to see just how much you could push their buttons.

It was Jonathan’s turn to let out a sound of amusement, as his lips reached the shell of your ear once more, his tongue snaking out to brush across your ear, making you tremble as he said, “On the couch now, pet.”

Your gaze flickered to the other side of the room, where there was a small couch resting in the corner. Edward took a step back, helping you to your trembling feet, as you wandered over to the couch. You felt the dampness between your thighs, and your breasts hung with a heavy swell, your whole body flushed, nipples pert and pink.

“Sit,” Jonathan said. Another sharp command.

You nodded, turning back to face them, and you sunk onto the couch. Just as you did, Jonathan walked forward; he got down onto his knees and grabbed your thighs, spreading them wide, once more revealing your wet cunt to him. You gasped slightly as his nails dug into your flesh, and he glanced up at you.

“Now, pet,” he said. “I want you to stay focused. No getting distracted now.”

As he spoke, you watched Edward unzip his own trousers, pulling his own engorged, swollen cock from his pants. Your breath hitched in your throat as another wave of desire passed over you, making you shudder. Edward took a step closer, holding his shaft in hand, as he gave himself a few slow, measured strokes. But before you could say anything, Jonathan’s mouth was suddenly at your clit now, sucking the swollen, over sensitive bud.

“Fuck,” you cursed out, jolting back, but his hands dug further into your thighs to keep you still. He glanced up at you, his eyes cold and cruel, the warning within them clear.

Your gaze shifted back to Edward again; his cock was swollen, precum dripping from the red tip. You immediately opened your mouth, greedy, and grabbed onto his shaft, taking his head into your mouth. You licked at his head while swallowing him as deep as you could go – but at the same time, Jonathan continued to lap at your clit like a starved animal, greedy and sloppy, his tongue working overtime. Small bursts of pleasure bundled in your core, alighting a fire in your belly, and your already sensitive clit was at it’s peak. Edward tasted of salt and skin, and you groaned as Jonathan sucked on your clit. A soft curse escaped Edward’s lips as he titled his head back, one of his hands tangling itself in your hair, pulling tight on the strands.

You pulled back for air, a low curse escaping your own lips, ���Fuck…”

Just as you stopped, so did Jonathan. He pulled back slightly, glancing up at you, one brow raised in curiosity. “I believe I didn’t tell you to stop, yes?”

“I—” But before you could get a word out, one of his hands came up and smacked at your clit. You yelped in pain and pleasure, too overstimulated to think straight.

“Continue,” Jonathan said. There was no warmth in his voice.

With just that one command, his mouth latched onto your clit again, and you took Edward back into your mouth. You worked him with your tongue and hand, groaning and moaning around his cock in tandem with the way Jonathan sucked and tongued at your clit. Heat ignited inside of you, burning like a wildfire in your belly, spreading through your every vein and muscle, clouding your every thought. Jonathan’s fingers entered you slowly, pumping in an out of you slowly, fucking you, and you pulled back for air again, gasping, a low moan escaping your lips – but once more, he smacked at your clit, and you cried out. An embarrassed flush crept along your skin and up your throat, burning your cheeks.

“She likes it when you smack her ass,” Edward said, rolling his eyes at Jonathan. Smirking, he grabbed onto you, guiding you onto your hands and knees. You held your breath as you braced yourself against the couch, and for a moment, all you felt was air – before Edward’s hand came down in a swift smack on your left ass check. You cried out, gasping, as the sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the room.

A ripple of delicious heat bundled in your core, and you held back your smile. There was something so naughty about being punished like this – being punished between them. Jonathan gripped your chin, turning your head slightly, and you realized he’d pulled his own cock from the confines of his pants, stroking himself now. You greedily took him into your mouth next, tasting the familiarity of skin and salt and sweat. Edward’s lips and fingers found themselves once more at your dripping hole, lapping at your clit, fucking you with his fingers. Another low groan escaped your lips as you felt Edward’s fingers curl inside of you, finding every delicious spot of pleasure that made you moan against Crane’s cock. Jonathan stared down at you, showing no sign of emotion on his face as you took him as deep as you could, almost gagging in the process. As you pulled back for air, you gasped, trying to fill your deprived lungs of oxygen – but the hesitation was enough, and you felt a second swift smack to your ass.

“Ah!” you cried out, shuddering at the pain radiating through your ass cheek. You let out a soft whine, before your mouth found Jonathan’s cock once more. This time, he began thrusting his hips slightly, using your mouth as if it was his own personal fuck toy.

You groaned around his cock again, tightening your hands into the couch, as Edward sucked on your swollen, sensitive bud, furiously pumping his fingers in and out of you. But just as you felt that bundle of pleasure building inside of you, Jonathan pulled back, his cock glistening with your saliva. At the same time, Edward paused his own movements, one of his hands gently gliding over the smooth slope of your ass in a comforting, soothing motion. You sucked in air, nerves tightening in your belly, wondering just what they had in store next. Edward slipped away from you, rising to his own feet, his swollen cock hanging in front of him. You watched as Jonathan reached into his suit coat and pulled out a condom from his pocket. He quickly ripped the foil, and rolled the condom onto his cock, until it was at the base of his shaft, where a soft patch of brown curls was. When he looked back at you, you averted your gaze, almost shyly, knowing what was coming next. Jonathan walked over to the couch, positioning himself behind you, one knee resting on the couch while his other leg steadied himself. He rested one hand on your hip, gently trailing along the curve of your ass, before he gripped tightly, nails digging in. You hissed between your teeth, a soft moan of pleasure escaping your lips as the pain made way for pleasure and heat. And that’s when you felt it – the head of his cock pushing into you, slowly, as he teased himself against your folds.

“Beg, detective,” he said, another order. Another cruel command. “Beg for it, pet.”

You were trembling now, bracing yourself, fingers digging into the couch cushions. You felt his body hovering over yours, warmth radiating off his skin, his breath heavy and ragged. You could just feel all the raw, primal energy coiled tightly inside of him, waiting to be unleashed upon you. There was no room for refusal in his authoritative, animalistic tone, as if he was barely containing himself any longer. Fear erupted in your core, causing goosebumps to rise on your flesh and a chill to creep up the back of your neck. There was something about the change of tone in his voice, how low it had dropped, that made your insides coil with terror. You glanced up to find Edward taking his place at your front, his cock just at your mouth, awaiting you to take him back in and suck him off.

Jonathan teased the tip of his cock at your entrance again. “Come now, pet,” he said, almost a cruel purr. “You want this, don’t you? To be needed and craved and wanted by both of us at the same time?”

“….yes,” you whispered, almost choking out the word. “Please, please fuck me…”

“Say my name,” Jonathan said, his lips at your ear, body hovering over yours.

“Jonathan,” you whispered. “Jonathan please…” You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling his fingers digging tightly into your hips.

“Not that name,” he hissed, tightening his grip.

You paused, feeling the breath knock from your lungs as you realized exactly what he wanted. Slowly, you peeled your eyes open, and you whispered that name he was so desperate to hear, “Please…Scarecrow, please…”

With just that one word, a deep sound of satisfaction rumbled out of his mouth – and he thrust into you. You gasped, crying out at how easily he filled you, how full he made you feel.

You felt his mouth at your ear as he whispered, “Good girl.” A sigh of pleasure escaped your lips, trembling, as his hands roamed over you, before he grabbed onto your hips again. He pulled out slowly – almost completely – before slamming back into you again. You cried out at the thickness of him, at how he took you with an unrestrained desire. He slammed into you again and again, and you glanced up to find Edward watching, holding his cock in his hand; his gaze dropped to you, and you opened your mouth, allowing him to push his cock into your mouth. You relaxed your jaw, allowing him to buck his hips into your mouth as Jonathan fucked you from behind. Your mind went completely blank as you were fucked relentlessly – you could think of nothing but their mouths and tongues and hands and cocks – completely filling you with pleasure, making you see stars. Edward bucked his hips into your mouth, and you breathed through your nose, trying to control your breathing. Low grunts escaped Jonathan’s lips as he slammed his hips into you, rutting into you with the desperation of a man chasing his own release. With each thrust, he filled you completely, slamming right into that spot inside of you. The sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the room, melding together with each gasp and grunt and groan. The sounds of pleasure out of their mouths was like music to your ears, filling you with your own satisfied pleasure at knowing you were the cause of their undoing’s, that you had turned these men into such messes. You were the very reason they were here, wanting you, needing you, craving you, desiring you – and in that moment, you never wanted it to end. The couch creaked with each movement, each thrust, and you felt Jonathan’s balls slapping against your ass while Edward’s slapped against your face. They both grabbed at you, pawing at you with almost a primal need, as if they couldn’t get enough of you – as if their own obsessions with you were growing more dangerous, more unbridled, more desperate.

And somehow, someway, you began to feel it in return. A desperation for both of them, to be at their mercy, to be used like their own plaything and toy. You gasped around Edward’s cock again as Jonathan continued to fuck you, his hips bucking into you, and you felt yourself spiraling out of your own control, out of whatever shred of sanity you had left. Jonathan hissed between his teeth, slowing his thrusts, now taking you deeper, pushing himself all the way inside of you. Edward pulled out of your mouth enough for you to get air, sucking in a deep breath, and you hung your head; it was taking every ounce of your control to keep yourself propped up on your hands and knees, to keep yourself from falling into a heap of pleasure and exhaustion. The room was thick with hot tension and desire, a heavy heat radiating across every inch of your sweat, flushed skin. It was as if their silent agreement extended into each other, as if they were one mind, using you in tandem, taking what they wanted from you.

Edward shoved his cock into your mouth again, and you swallowed with greedily, sucking him off, licking your tongue up and down his shaft. He bucked his hips into your mouth and grabbed onto your breasts, fondling them, pinching and pulling at your nipples. You felt his thrusts suddenly become more sloppy, more desperate, and you felt his cock twitch in your mouth as he came – spilling his seed down your throat. A loud groan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering closed. You swallowed his cum, feeling some of it dribble down your mouth as the rutting of his hips stilled as deep into your mouth as he could go. The bitter taste of his seed filled your mouth, and you swallowed as much of him as you could before he pulled out. His cock was covered in a mix of his own release and your saliva, and he sat back, gasping, trying to gain his composure, a sheen coating across his forehead.

It took you a moment to realize Jonathan had paused his thrusting, as if to allow Edward to finish, before he resumed. One of his hands tangled itself in your hair, pulling your head back, his teeth nipping at your ear as he hissed, “Does it frighten you, detective? To be taken by the Scarecrow?”

His words made you tremble, and a low gasp escaped your lips. His words were possessive and dark, like he was staking a claim over you, letting you know that you were his just as much as you were Edward’s. You couldn’t form a coherent thought or sentence, too caught up in the way his cock continued to buck in and out of your dripping, wet cunt.

“Or does it excite you?” he continued. “Knowing you belong to both of us?”

In response, all you could give was a low whine, a gasp, and you squeezed your eyes shut. His words made you tremble, made your skin prickle with delicious heat. His words seemed to wrap around you, blanketing you in the fear and realization of what you were doing – and who you were doing it with – but at this moment, you didn’t even care.

“Answer me, pet,” he purred.

“Yes!” you gasped out, cursing under your breath once more as he pounded into you with a relentless frenzy. “Yes – fuck…please…”

“Good girl,” he whispered again. His hand loosened from your hair, traveling down to the base of your neck, where he gripped tightly. With a careful grip, he forced your head down, burying your face into the couch cushion. You gasped, gazing up at Edward as he watched, his cock now softening and hanging limp. You gritted your teeth, and with one final thrust, Jonathan groaned low and deep in his throat as he shoved himself as far into you as he could go. You felt his cock twitch, and warmth fill the end of the condom inside of you. You collapsed onto the couch, utterly spent, unable to move. Slowly, you felt Jonathan slip himself out of you, leaving you feeling empty.

“Such a good girl, detective,” Edward murmured. “Taking us both so well.” There was thick, dark satisfaction laced in his voice.

His words made your heart flutter with pride, as if you’d done something so good and well for them, satisfied them both, alighting a desperation inside of you that you didn’t even know you wanted. You laid there for a moment, trying to adjust to the afterglow and the mix of pleasure and pain swirling inside of you, trying to regain some sanity over the moment. You felt Jonathan shift behind you, and when you glanced back, he stood up. The condom was filled at the tip with white cum, and he wandered away, off towards a garbage can on the other side of the room. A quiet stillness filled the room, but the air was still heavy with tension.

“Are you all right?” Edward asked as Crane cleaned himself up.

“I’m…okay,” you whispered, trying to regain your composure. With Edward’s help, you lifted yourself up. Every part of your body was spent and sweaty, and you maneuvered yourself into a sitting position. You still tasted Edward’s cum on your tongue.

The moment almost didn’t feel real now that it was over. There was a strange absence inside of you now as you tried to register what you’d done, and the new dynamics between the three of you now. Slowly, you ran a hand through your hair, smoothing out the tangles. An embarrassed flush crept along your skin, and you looked down at your shaky, trembling legs. There was a part of you that was absolutely excited over what just happened – and just as equally terrified by the encounter, too.

A moment later, you finally lifted your eyes to see that both Edward and Jonathan had tucked their cocks back into their pants. You found Jonathan reaching down to gather up your thong and dress, and he approached you, holding them out for you. You mumbled a quick thank you, before Edward helped you to your feet, giving you the space to shimmy back into your clothes. As you did, you felt both their eyes on you, and you couldn’t help but notice the little bruises and teeth marks in your skin at their touches. A rumble of satisfaction erupted deep in your core, and you couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across your lips.

“Well,” you said, once you were dressed. “So…that happened.”

Edward chuckled deep in his throat. “Yes, detective, it did. Now, perhaps we should get you home, yes?”

You shot him a look, but nodded. You were desperate for a shower to wash off the sweat, but your gaze flickered back to Jonathan for a quick moment. He straightened out his suit coat and adjusted his tie, appearing as if this entire interaction had never happened at all.

“Until next time, detective,” Jonathan said, his voice dark and possessive. He turned on his heels and opened the door of the office, stepping back out into the hall.

You followed after him, but before you could step forward, Edward’s hand gripped your arm tight, his fingers digging into your skin. He lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered, “Just because I’ve agreed to share you with Crane doesn’t make you any less mine, do you understand?”

“Yes,” you murmured, a tingle creeping up your spine.

“Good,” he replied. Then he let you go and gave your ass a gentle smack. You shot him a look, smirking, but stepped into the hall. Edward followed you and shut the office door behind him. Quietly, the three of you walked back down the hall, an odd tenseness filling the air between the three of you, too many unspoken words dangling in the air.

But as you came back towards the party, you noticed Commissioner Cash peek his head out, searching both ways down the hall before his eyes landed on you. “Detective,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I was wondering where you’d run off to. These two aren’t giving you any trouble, are they?” He glanced between Edward and Jonathan with suspicion in his eyes.

You smiled. “Not at all, Commissioner. Not at all.”

[massscara]

DRDT SPOILERS.

Theories and headcanons about the execution of the murderer of the second chapter.

And so... Since we know the murderer of this chapter (They is innocent, believe me), I want to share my guesses about their possible execution.

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My reasoning will begin with the fact that there are executions in danganronpa that not only reflect the killer's talent, but also contain things that they don't like ( Example: Mikan Tsumiki )

In her execution, you can see the oversize objects ( You can notice a large syringe, and then a huge hand and space appear ), which she doesn't like and is afraid of. All in order to make her fall into despair.

Following from Ace's Wikipedia, you can find out that he doesn't like horses and meat. ( But this is only from material things. I'll mention the rest later )

Of course, if he is a jockey, then the execution itself is more likely to involve horses, however, I would find his execution more interesting if it involves meat ( or some other food ). Based on these words, it can be concluded that there are two possible scenarios for his execution: a horse and food.

Food:

If we go on this trail, then since Ace has an eating disorder, then he can be under tremendous pressure from himself. He will either be forced to eat something, or he will soon become someone's food ( the same meat that he neglects )

Horses:

You can die in different ways because of horses, so I've given you a list of some historical figures who died because of a horse-related accident. Here are the highlights:

« He fell from his horse onto his sword and fell to his death »

« He was thrown from his horse into cold water and suffered a fatal heart attack or drowned as a result »

« He fell in front of a horse that stepped on his head »

« He fractured his skull when his horse stumbled and fell »

In general, I understand Ace why he is so afraid of horses. I think there are at least two possible scenarios ( they are divided into subtypes )

The first scenario :

I think a horse racing option is possible.

Subtype 1:

Horse racing contains a dangerous obstacle course. Ace goes through them all at first, but at the very last moment he messes up ( It is possible that Monotv cheated by giving impossible obstacles to overcome or outwitted him )

Subtype 2:

Ace successfully overcomes the same dangerous obstacle course, but his supposed opponent cheated and won. Ace's loss may anger those who bet money on him. That's why, let's say, they started throwing stones at him.

The second scenario :

Historical events. Executions of the Middle Ages. (both that I found are very similar )

Subtype 1:

To be hanged, drawn and quartered was a method of torturous capital punishment used principally to execute men convicted of high treason in medieval and early modern Britain and Ireland. The convicted traitor was fastened to a hurdle, or wooden panel, and drawn behind a horse to the place of execution, where he was then hanged (almost to the point of death), emasculated, disembowelled, beheaded, and quartered.

Subtype 2:

The remainder of the punishment might include hanging ( usually not to the death ), usually live disemboweling, burning of the entrails, beheading, and quartering. This last step was sometimes accomplished by tying each of the four limbs to a different horse and spurring them in different directions.

If it concerns 2 subtypes of the second scenario ( 1, in principle, too ), then it will be funny to put pressure on the moment with his already fragile neck.

And I'm going back a little to the moment when I was talking about Ace's dislikes! Of the non-material ones, he dislikes the following: being a jockey and being perceived as incompetent.

We know perfectly well that Ace is a rather short — tempered personality, most often acting impulsively due to aroused emotions. It can be assumed that his own execution will carry ridicule about his lack of professionalism and frivolous attitude to the sport in which he is so famous. It is possible that his entire execution will stupidly mock his desire to escape both from the killing game and from his daily life ( It was also the case with Teruteru, who was turned into his unloved food, and also presented on the cover of the execution in the form of a pig in honor of disrespect )

It is likely that in this scenario, he will be banally pissed off, which will make him act irrationally. And these actions of his based on negative emotions will push him to a fatal mistake.

That's all!

Thank you for your attention and time, because Ace is actually alive and not dead and it was all a prank hehehahHaehEhhaHahehe....

[darkbluekies]

The witty and uncanny: the outtakes

Yandere!doctor OC x reader x mafia!yandere OC

Summary/AN: I had written this, but thought that it was a direction that didn't fit the story, that it spiraled a bit, so I abandoned this and wrote the one in the series ... but I thought that I could share this too!

Warnings: yandere duo, kidnapping, unhealthy relationships

Part 3

Silas runs into the room an hour later, blood covering his neck and black shirt. 

“What happened?!” Dr Kry gasps. 

“Shit happened”, Silas answers while panting and hurries over to you. 

Dr Kry steps in front of him. 

“Stop”, he warns Silas. “Don’t touch them. What is going on with you?”

“My enemies know that Y/N is here”, Silas sighs heavily, running his hand through his hair. “And if you don’t want Y/N, yourself, me and everyone around to die, you better fucking help me transport Y/N to my house.”

Dr Kry widens his eyes. He swallows hard, looking around in the room, hesitating, debating. 

“How long do we have?” he asks carefully. 

“Twenty minutes at most”, Silas says. “We have to move. Now.”

“Alright, alright.”

Dr Kry grabs his bag and shoves some pills, syringes and other necessities he thinks he might need to keep you in check, removes the mask from your face and lifts you up in his arms. Your head automatically falls onto his broad shoulder. 

“Let’s go”, he says, stressed out of his mind. 

He usually stays calm in pressured situations, but when it involves you, he feels like a beginner again. Not a professional. 

The two of them hurries down to the parking lot.

“Where’s your car?” Silas asks. 

“My car?” Dr Kry scoffs. “Why my car?”

“Because I can’t use mine?” Silas asks as if that was obvious. “They’ll know it’s me and then we’re already doomed.”

“Fine, it’s this way.”

They hurry over to the white car in the corner of the parking lot. Silas opens the back door for the doctor to place you down on the backseat. Dr Kry jumps in beside you while Silas moves over to the driver’s seat. The doctor holds your body in his embrace, his arms working better than a seat belt — in his opinion. He caresses your hair softly.

It doesn't take long before you open your eyes and find yourself in a totally different location than before. Your entire body freezes before harshly trying to push whoever is holding you away.

"W-Where am I?" you stutter. "Let go of me!"

"Y/N, it's us", Dr Kry answers calmly and strengthens his embrace to keep you in place. "No need to be afraid. We're on our way to Silas’s house since he released his location at the hospital."

Silas house?! Flashing images of the basement fill your mind. You can still feel the hard stone floor under your ass from all the time you've spent there.

"No!" you burst out and start to fight against Dr Kry. "I don't want to go there!"

"I've started to like you better when you're asleep, little thing", Silas mutters over his shoulder. "I'm not going to put you in the basement — because I'm guessing that's why you're getting all worked up — if you stay calm. Don't yell, don't hit or kick and don't try to do something stupid. Got it?"

You gulp and nod. The doctor notices how you shrink into a ball.

"You can't talk to them like that", Dr Kry says.

"We're no longer in your hospital", Silas says. "Out in the real world, I'm in charge. And I discipline Y/N how I want. Unlike your method, mine actually works."

Dr Kry glances at you. You've curled up beside the car door, hugging your legs close to your body. Tears are running down your cheeks and you have to bite down on your lip to stay silent. He reaches out to caress your hair, but you flinch away. Silas grins in the rearview mirror. 

For the entirety of that terrifying drive, you sit in silence, remembering all the horrific things that occurred in Silas’s house before you eventually ran off. Should you try to make a run for it? You could get away … buy if they catch you you'll go down to the basement. That's a place you want to avoid at all costs.

"Okay, jump out", Silas says after parking the car.

Your hand trembles as you open the car door. Slowly, you step out. The gravel feels harsh and unwelcoming under your feet. A cold breeze runs past you. You hug yourself to create some kind of warmth, but when only wearing a loose, flimsy hospital gown, you can't.

"Let's get you inside", Silas says and wraps his arm around your shoulders. "You must be cold."

Dr Kry stops and looks at Silas’s dark facade. He can't tell if the actual structure is black or if it's so dark that it blends into the night. After a few seconds of thinking, he hurries after. Inside, the house looks like any other house Dr Kry’s been in. The only difference is the lack of personality but maybe that's all that can describe Silas.

You're led upstairs. Silas notices how you try to force your heels down into the floor, but his grip on you is stronger. Dr Kry walks behind you, leaving you no exit. The two men follow you into the bedroom. All will power leaves you the second you see the bed you used to share with Silas. The chains by the bed makes your stomach turn. Silas walks over to them, picking them up.

"Silas, please …", you whisper, frozen in place as you desperately shake your head. "I'm not going to move. I'll stay, I promise."

"I want to believe you, baby", he sighs and hugs you, sighing when you break down in tears for what feels like the hundredth time this day. "I really want to. But the last time you ran away from me, I thought I'd die! I really need you, sweetheart and I can't let that horrible night happen again. I can't let you hurt yourself like you did that night. I hated to see you in that hospital bed when I arrived. You looked horrible. And then you disappeared from me again … I was so fucking worried."

Somehow you agree. That night brought Dr Kry into the picture and made everything so much more complicated.

"Please", you sob desperately. 

Silas thinks for a while before he looks at Dr Kry who nods.

"Okay", Silas says and secures your head into his chest. "No chains."

Your entire body relaxes in relief.

"Give him a hug for being generous", Dr Kry smiles halfly with his arms crossed.

Your arms lock around Silas’s well built body. Silas gives him a surprised look and Dr Kry smiles slightly, shrugging. 

They tuck you in bed and walk out to give you some much needed privacy.

"I didn't know you could be human", Dr Kry says.

"Surprise", Silas says, glancing back to the bedroom door. "I really do love them, you know?"

"I thought you were just a sadist who wanted to hurt Y/N. That's how you come across."

"No. I could watch the world burn, but if anything seriously happened to Y/N I'd join in on burning it down." Silas leans his back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "And why did you suddenly become nice to me in there? Was it just a show for Y/N so they'll choose you over me? In that case youre not much better than me."

"I changed my mind about you — but just a little bit. I still think you're an arrogant, narcissistic piece of actual shit … but I don't want Y/N to be scared … and if we fight it will only spiral."

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Silas breathes out, turning to the door. “There’s a guest room for you down the hall. Get some sleep.”

With that said, Silas walks back into the bedroom and into the bathroom. He’s still covered in blood he doesn’t want anywhere near close to you. A smile tugs on his lips when he exits. He'll sleep with you again. It's soon morning hours, but to him it couldn't matter less. The only thing that's important is your body in his arms. He lies down, bringing your sleeping form closer. You fit so perfectly in his arms, it's such a shame that you don't see how perfect the two of you are together.

You wake up earlier than Silas the following morning. For a few moments, nothing comes to mind. Why are you back? Was everything a dream? Did you never escape? Did you never meet Dr Kry again? Did you never come between them? The bandages on your wrists tell you a different story — a real story.

Carefully to not wake Silas, you climb out of the bed and sneak out of the room.

"And where do you think you're headed?" 

You're about to scream in surprise. You snap your head to your left, seeing Dr Kry sit in a chair in the end of the corridor with a syringe in his hands. 

"Bathroom", you lie. 

"I should come with you."

He's about to stand up.

"N-No!" you say quickly. "I'm okay. I won't hurt myself."

"Either let me come with you to make sure you'll be fine or don't go."

"Fine, I won't."

He smiles, exposing his pearly white teeth. "See? I knew you were lying. If you really needed to go to the bathroom, you'd do it even though you were uncomfortable." Dr Kry stands up, slowly walking over to you. "Where were you heading, little one?"

"Nowhere", you say through gritted teeth.

"Nowhere?" He chuckles. "That's a synonym for 'escape'."

"That wasn't said in any dictionary I read."

"Then you didn't read hard enough." He grabs your arm in a firm, but not painful grip. "Sit with me."

You flinch at your doctor's unusual boldness. He pulls you back to the chair, sits down and pets his thighs. You shake your head.

"If I were you, I'd sit", Dr Kry says, showing the syringe. "I don't want to use it unnecessarily, but I need to keep an eye on you. Please don't be difficult, my dear."

You sigh and sit down in his lap, body stiff and uncomfortable. He doesn't move, doesn't even look at you. You can tell that the hand holding the syringe trembles.

An hour later, the door opens and a tired looking Silas comes out.

"You little shit, Y/N", he yawns. "You gave me a heart attack when I didn't have you in my arms."

"And yet you're still breathing", you mutter under your breath.

"I heard that", Dr Kry says, tilting his head into the corner of your eye. 

Of course he did.

"They did try to leave", Dr Kry says, squeezing the flesh of your upper arms. "Who knows what could have happened if I hadn't been sitting here."

Silas moves over to you and towers over you like a giant. With Dr Kry both behind — and practically under you — and Silas in front — and practically above you — you can't help but start to feel claustrophobic. 

"Are you hungry?" Silas asks, tilting your head upwards by your chin. "Do you want some breakfast?"

"No", you respond. 

"Huh, you seem feisty today too."

The men, deciding that it's too big of a risk for you to sit alone down in the kitchen, tie your forearms to the armrests. They're careful to leave that bandaged wrists alone. This way, you won't be able to push the food away or try to run away.

Dr Kry gets his mandatory cup of coffee while Silas rummages through the fridge. You can tell some of his men pass by the door, but none of them give you any attention. Their eyes sneak onto Dr Kry in curiosity, confusion and amusement.

"Here we go", Silas smiles and holds up a bowl of steaming porridge. "This should do the trick."

You've seen him prepare it, you've seen all the ingredients, yet you don't trust him.

"Open", Silas orders, holding a spoonful to your lips. He blows on it for a few seconds to make sure it won’t be too hot for you.

You turn your head away.

"Oh, so we're doing this again?" Silas says, nodding. "Okay, I see how it is. You want me to treat you like a child again. Here comes the airplane~"

You widen your eyes in disbelief, shock and pure embarrassment. Dr Kry snorts out a laugh behind Silas. With burning cheeks, you have no other choice but to open your mouth, scared to be embarrassed further. Bad idea. 

“Hm, seems like you only respond when I baby you”, Silas smirks. “I’m starting to think that you want me to treat you like a little child, is that right?”

“No!” you growl. 

“I’m just kidding, little thing. Open your mouth again, next bite.”

You shiver. You’re not sure, but he managed to mess it up. Salty — too salty — until the point where you need water. You manage to kick the bowl out of his hands. The porcelain shatters against the wooden floor and porridge splatters over the planks. 

“I told you what would happen if you did something stupid, didn’t I?” Silas asks, dark eyes glowing dangerously. 

Shit. You had totally forgotten that. 

“S-Silas-”, you start in horror. 

“‘S-Silas’”, he mocks you as he unties you. “You can’t ‘S-Silas’ your way out of this one. You might be very special to me, that’s why I have to do this. If I teach you not to get on my nerves, you’ll less likely get hurt, don’t you understand that?”

You beg and plead and cry and scream, but Silas’s have turned off his ears. 

[smolgloves]

The Wizard and The Herbalist

Summary: Gale and Freya put their skills together for the perfect potion

Tw: mentions of crushing? Nothing too crazy, this is all fluff

I think I got it!” The wizard exclaimed as he paced around his tent with a book in hand. Curiosity had taken hold of Freya near the campfire, Gale was so engrossed in whatever he was reading that he was absentmindedly walking around for the past hour. She didn't dare go near him during his trance lest she wanted to get stepped on, he normally was more aware of the borrower's presence but after that one time involving the fish barrel… Pushing those thoughts aside, Freya ambled over to Gale.

“What are you on about?”

Gale smiled down at the borrower. “Ah Freya, I was just about to look for you.”

“I was near the campfire.” She giggled, then raised an eyebrow at him. “But tell me, why were you going to look for me?”

Gale knelt down on the terrain, stifling a groan along the way down and flipped the book over to Freya. She noticed the images of Sylvan stone and a Gauth eye. “I think I have found a way to make the size reduction spells more effective!”

Freya cocked an eyebrow. “Effective how?”

There was a joyful gleam in the wizard's eye. "I could reduce the height of one of our companions to a range closer to your height.”

She stared up at Gale with wide eyes. There wasn't many times others had shrunk down; if they needed to sneak into any place that required crawling through a crack in the wall, Freya was always the first to volunteer, but when they shrunk, they still towered over her. Freya only reached their knees, which was less daunting than the usual, but it still wasn't like talking to a borrower. She missed being able to talk to someone in the eyes without craning her neck or being able to wrap her arms around someone in a full embrace. As comforting as it can be to be held in a hand, physical contact was still so much different than before, she never would have realized how much she would miss the little things like that. “You're kidding.”

“Quite the contrary.” Gale pointed at the eye on the page. “The Gauth eye is said to make spells much more potent. So say we add ingredients that are used to make potions that deal with size shifting and I drink it….”

“Then you can do a more powerful reduction spell!” She beamed.

“Spot on.” His smile grew. “And I think I know of a little herbalist who could help me.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let's get to it!”

~~~~

Back at home, Freya spent time in the greenhouse making potions and salves all day, but she never brewed anything beyond healing elixirs before. Skaars Hollow never had any type of ingredients that could let her experiment with doing anything as advanced as transmutation! Gale gathered the supplies and went to work grinding up the gauth eye and sylvan stone, while Freya oversaw the progress of it all, making sure the ingredients were mashed to perfection before they began the potion brewing.

At last, the potion was complete, it stood tall over the borrower, holding an orange liquid within. Freya stared at with wide eyes. “Do you think it's ready?”

“I believe we gave it enough time to settle.” Rubbing his chin, Gale tentatively grabbed the bottle and popped off the lid. “In a normal trial, one would run tests to make sure this was safe to drink… but I trust your expertise.”

Freya couldn't help the grin that stretched across her face. “You're the one who did the work.”

He smiled. “True, but your guidance was instrumental to the success of this.”

Despite the swelling pride growing in her, Freya couldn't help but shy away from the praise. “I think you should talk less and drink the potion.”

Gale laughed under his breath before pressing the bottle to his lips. The orange liquid disappeared down his gullet, no drop was left behind. Gale took a breath. “Not the worst potion I've drank, but the taste is left to be desired.”

“But did it work?” The anticipation in her voice was palpable.

“There's only one way to find out.” With a flick of the wrist, Gale's hand lit up, a pale blue light snaked down from his fingertips to his palm. He pressed his hand to his chest and with a smile, he uttered a phrase: “Diminue.”

Gale dwindled in size before Freya's very eyes, she watched as he disappeared beneath the table, normally a larger one would just reach a low table such as the one by the wizard's tent. Freya dashed to the edge and peered over it. There Gale was, waving up at her at tiny height, this needed to be seen up close! Freya undid her grappling hook and descended down to the rocky ground.

It almost felt like a dream walking up to Gale; a larger being now reduced to five inches. This should have been a work of fiction, but when she reached out with a shaky hand and brushed against his arm she realized just how real this was.

“Gale, you beautiful bastard, you did it!” The shrill joy could not be contained! Freya pulled him into an embrace.

“Well this certainly is more comfortable than staying on one's knees for an extended amount of time.” Gale said with a titter.

“Or constantly looking up.”

Gale pulled away, glancing around the world around them, his tent loomed over like a building, his books became towers, and rocks became boulders. “I must say, the world feels vastly different from your point of view.”

Freya raised a brow. “Care to elaborate?”

“Sometimes, this world feels small, like you could explore Faerun before your life is over.” Gale fixated past the sandy beach to the murky waters ahead, his brown eyes wide with wonder. “But at this height, I'm looking at a world I'm familiar with, and I'm coming to the realization that there is so much more to this world than I have ever known.”

“I'd agree with you, but I've only ever known this perspective of the world.” Freya stood beside Gale, his wonder had spread to her. “Maybe one day you could show me that side of the world.”

“It would be my honor.” A smirk spread across his face. “But first, I want to explore the campgrounds through your eyes.”

“But of course.” Freya began walking, motioning for him to follow her. She was accustomed to walking around this rocky terrain, stepping over pebbles that would have been missed by larger beings. If only Gale was as aware. He stepped onto some loose rubble and nearly stumbled into Freya. Immediately, he began to revert back to his normal height.

Freya gasped out, for a moment, she feared the wizard would fall into her but he fortunately braced himself, his arms on either side of her and his face a mere inches from the tiny lady.

“Gods, I'm terribly sorry, Freya.” Gale quickly sat up to give her some space. “It seems this spell requires more concentration than a normal reduce spell.”

Despite the near death experience, Freya couldn't help but laugh. The spell was short lived but there was hope. “I think we'll have to do a few more trials before we attempt that again.”

[jinchuls]

ᡣ𐭩 suna rintarou x reader (royal au)

notes 𝜗𝜚 another repost from my og blog bc i forgot i had an ao3 and thought i lost this forever until 20 minutes ago bc sometimes i write straight into tumblr and don’t backup my fics

divider by @/cafekitsune

Watching the sun rise slowly, the sky burns a beautiful orange before the blue begins to settle, a picturesque moment you wish you could capture forever—or, at least, share with the man that intended to be here before you. It’s far too early for you to be awake and even more so for you to be sat in a tucked away garden with a shawl wrapped around your shoulders to keep you warm in the chilling breeze that hit you. But the cold, the wait, the anticipation. It’s worth it knowing he will be beside you; there’s no way more perfect to start your morning.

The soft hue of the sun bores onto the horizon, illuminating the view of the town you were always amazed by: there’s enough beauty in the sight that one day will be in the hands of a Miya—a fearful thought—but it’s the same sight you’ve committed to memory waiting for him each morning.

There’s a quiet sound behind you, much louder in the silence of the nature that surrounds you, and it alerts you that he’s finally here. Turning quickly, a smile plastered on your face in an instant as the familiar grin of the man that stole your heart meets your eye. You call his name quietly, finding yourself in a rush to be beside him, although you’d seen each other only the night before.

You embrace him tightly, relishing in his hold as he wraps his arms around your waist keeping you as close to him as possible. He’d been as excited as you to see you again in a situation that didn’t involve staying away from you and keeping his affection, that burns for you in private, hidden from your mothers, and your protective family, when all he ever wishes to do is hold you close and drown you in the love you deserve.

The glow of the streaming light falls on him as you reluctantly loosen your grip on him. It shines perfectly on every feature, illuminating his eyes; every inch of his face is displayed to you like a painting. each stroke made with precision and care to create the beauty that stares back at you; you’re lost in that very beauty glistening radiant gold under the rising sun.

“I missed you.” you admit quietly, taking his hand and leading him back to where you had been stood for the two of you to bask in the stunning view you shared. He’s grinning widely at your comment; he wants to tease you that it’s only been a few hours since the last time you were together, but he feels the same. His arm rests gently on your back as his eyes glance from the view to you. the lingering gazes you shared the night before. The meal he ate sat opposite you while your families spoke business. It wasn’t enough when he could stand beside you like he is now.

Being close to you, holding you and not having to act as though he wasn't hopelessly in love with you was much easier than the act he performed every time he was amongst your family or your peers. He’s itching for the day he doesn’t have to; for the day he wears the ring that tells everyone he’s spoken for.

In his mind, it couldn’t come soon enough.

You’re happily, and quietly, talking between the two of you, once again telling the other about the dreams you had and wanted to share, he can be heard before he’s seen, the usual scenario that comes hand in hand with Miya Atsumu. He’s stumbling into sight, tripping over stones and branches littered across the makeshift path or, more likely, over his own feet; he’s just as shocked to see the two of you together as you are to see him wandering away from his daily responsibilities at the crack of dawn.

“Your Highness.” you splutter out in your immediate shock, taking a fast step away from Suna. It’s too late; Atsumu had already seen the way Suna’s fingers gently stroked the small of your back. He’d seen the glance Suna sent your way when you were looking down to see the last few minutes of the sunrise before the day truly began.

“You.” he points and stares, eyes dancing between the two of you trying to figure out what he can say in this situation; what he can say. “What-”

“Atsumu,” Suna addresses the prince in a manner most would never, though their long-term friendship allowed for it in the lack of authority present. “Should you not be-”

“Your secret affair is much more important.” the blonde laughs, making his way closer. “Good morning, My Lady.” he addresses you with a smile; you greet him officially with a small bow of your head. “It’s a beautiful day for a rendezvous.”

His words have your face turning red; you’re quick to hide your expression in Suna’s chest. There’s a moment where you think it’s not appropriate, not in front of the prince, but there’s solace in the way his chest shakes as he tries to keep his own laughter at minimum, for your benefit.

“I’ll leave you be,” he says softly, “it would look unfortunate for me if the duke’s son were to find the prince avoiding his duties.”

“The prince should stop running the moment he wakes to do exactly that.” Suna retorts, you turn your head to Atsumu again, watching as a brighter, more mischievous, smile crosses his face. Although you know no bad outcome will come of this, there’s some worry that loiters in your mind.

He bids his farewells, leaving the two of you and returning to the palace where he’ll be rushed into lessons on ruling the kingdom alongside his brother, except now he’s more excited to be sat beside the man who’s clueless to his closest confidante’s morning activities.

“We’re going to be the next talk of the town.” you joke, watching as the man turns away from you with a secret you know he won’t keep to himself. First, Osamu will know–he’s not one to keep secrets from his brother–then Kita. he’ll keep it to himself, he’s not one for the rumours that were thrown around the town, but the twins will continue to share. It’ll find its way to Bokuto and Hinata, the knights closest to the boisterous twin, and then the news will spread to everyone.

It wouldn’t be long before your mothers knew. The women that had grown up together; who’d always dreamt their children would grow up to be wed and now, unbeknownst to them, the two of you shared the same dream.

“Let them talk.” Suna quips, an arm coming to bring you into a comfortable embrace; warming you more than the layers of clothes ever would, “It will be known one day.” Leaving a lingering kiss on your temple, he whispers in your ear, “I want to announce to the world that I am yours.”

[geospiral]

“I want to be someone’s stepping stone; I want the memory of me to haunt that person so that I may live through them and be beside them without having to stay. I know that's selfish and cruel, but if the path has already been laid out for me and I have no choice but to die, then I want to at least be able to choose who I die for. And to be honest, I will probably regret this decision when I’m lying there and spitting up my own blood, but at least it will be mine… and I think I can rest easy knowing that.”

Moran, a top student when it comes to all things excluding singing, can best be described as being Anakt Garden’s very own “Thinker.” Often found sitting on the very left edge of the garden’s box, she is willing to lend an ear to those in need.

Alien Stage OC Base made by @shakingparadigm

_____________________________________________________________

Anakt Garden:

Moran is not a person who will intentionally seek other people out, but she does enjoy when others come to her, usually in the form of seeking guidance. This guidance can range from simply helping a fellow student with their class work to teaching others some of what she knows about the Segyein’s entertainment industry, a topic that she is familiar with due to her upbringing. 

She likes talking about philosophy, giving general worldly advice, and being a mediator to her fellow classmates, trying her best to be an impartial judge.

Moran also likes “reading” other people’s fortunes as a kind of game. It’s not anything serious; you ask her a specific topic about the future, such as “Am I going to pass the test?” and then give her as much information as you can about your chosen topic in order for her to make an educated guess. If she guesses correctly, you have to give her something, and if she doesn't, then she’ll give something to you. The items are nothing big, just small treasures like a pretty stone from the stream or an Anakt Garden lollipop. Moran also keeps a small collection of things she finds or is given in case others would just like to do general bartering with her; however, she doesn’t hold any real attachment to the things she collects and will usually trade her items away in exchange for short-lived treats such as candy, drinks, or a bubble wand.

Moran gets along fine with the other students, and although she can be pretty blunt at times, to the point of unintentionally seeming rude, she does her best to stay on everyone’s good side. She was raised with many others under her Guardian, so she has always been used to living alongside her fellow humans; however, the experiences were not great, causing her to have trouble telling when others genuinely like her or wish to be her friend. It doesn’t help that it only seems that her classmates come to her when they need something.

______________________________________________________________

Background:

Moran’s Guardian, Rheya, is a well-known and respected theater director with a theatrical troupe composed of the many humans under her, raising them from a young age to be her personal actors. By having her plays consist of an entirely human cast, Rheya is able to push the limits of her plays' theatrics in ways that she simply could not when working with her fellow Segyeins. Her plays are touted for their stories and visual spectacles; however, they can tend to be extremely dangerous for the humans involved, with many sustaining real injuries throughout their performances.

Despite the humans of the troupe referring to Rheya as their "mother,” they do not view one another as family but rather as competition when it comes to gaining their Guardians' affection. Bullying amongst the group is commonplace; if one person is punished, everyone is, which leads to that one individual being viciously humiliated and outcast by their peers and being sent down levels in the troupe’s personal social hierarchy.

(Note: The troupe’s hierarchy is loosely inspired by that of the video game Rule of Rose; I haven’t played it, and it's basically impossible to do so without pirating, but I got the idea from the video analysis of the game by RagnarRox.)

Rheya did not want to stop her storytelling at just theater production; however, she wanted to extend her reach further and saw Alien Stage as a chance to do just that, devising a long-term plan to craft what will hopefully be one of her best stories. She wants the story to go like this: she will choose two of her humans, one to send to Anakt Garden and the other to stay with her, molding him into the next big celebrity pet. The one sent to the garden, Moran, would be used as fodder in order to boost the fame of the other human pet, Adam, under the guise that the reason she trained for and performed in Alien Stage was to gain the other’s attention, subsequently dying in the competition. Upon finding this out, Adam would then go on to perform in the next Alien Stage season after her to avenge the women who loved him, winning in the process.

Rheya doesn’t have any faith that Moran can survive her Alien Stage season, and neither does Moran herself, but while Moran is in the garden, she hopes to find someone who she can truly die for in the competition, someone she actually cares for, unlike Adam, whom she barely knows and has never loved. If Moran must die, she wants it to be meaningful to her and the one she adores. She wants to make it her own choice.

[visiosatanae]

Branded

Ficlet below the cut, please mind the warnings 🔞❗

This involves exactly what the picture implies, so please do not read any further if you aren't a fan of graphic depictions of torture and violence. Needless to say, MDNI

The room was cold when you finally came to, the sweat beading up on your skin now freezing. Your head hurt, a throbbing ache still pounding behind your eyes. Your body was upright, arms raised above your head but you found you couldn't move. Panic began its course as you realized you were completely devoid of clothing, vulnerable to the draft of this makeshift dungeon. You couldn't remember how you got here, only that the Cardinal had requested your presence urgently before-

The Cardinal…

Shakily you craned your head to look around the room. There were no windows and the walls and floor were stone, suggesting you were underground. The only light came from a few wall sconces and the fireplace crackling away in the corner with what looked like a rack of fire pokers next to it. In front of you was a table filled with surgical instruments and knives. You struggled with your binds, the metal around your wrists and ankles groaning against the frame you were attached to. 

"Ah, it seems the puttana has awoken." A chill ran up your spine, freezing at the sound of the Cardinal's voice from behind you. "Did you get your beauty sleep, cara?" 

"Why did you take me?" Your voice is hoarse. "I didn't do anything to you, Cardinal." You hear him stand from wherever he was sitting, slowly and methodically making his way towards you. 

"Our Dark Lord may be the father of all lies, Sorella, but that doesn't mean you are allowed to lie to me." He tuts, finally coming into view. He wore his red cassock, his usual biretta nowhere to be seen. 

You try to wrack your brain for any clue as to what he's talking about, but you can think of nothing. "Your Eminence, I don't know-"

You felt his hand around your face, the soft leather of his gloves digging into your cheeks and stopping you from speaking. His heterochromatic eyes pierced yours, as if trying to discern something behind them. After a moment he released you, your jaw aching. 

"I guess you really don't understand." He mused to himself, making his way towards the fireplace. You watched him warily. Rumors around the ministry warned of the Cardinal having a foul temper and unpredictable nature. And it seemed you were inadvertently on the receiving end of his ire. "Tell me, how do you feel about Brother Sebastian?" 

A pang of fear shot through you at the name. "He's a friend. We have a class together and we talk sometimes." You tried to keep your voice from shaking. "Please don't hurt him, he hasn't done anything." 

"He touched what is mine," the Cardinal snapped, voice firm and cold. He then bent to pick up something from the fire; another poker you must have missed. But as he turned around you could see it wasn't just an implement for stoking the fire. The end was flat and red hot, two backwards C's glowing in curling metal script. 

"As a boy, I had a habit of coveting things that were mine, or what I wanted to be mine." You felt yourself pale, eyes widening as he stepped closer. He inspected its fiery glow, ensuring the temperature was even throughout. "I learned that the only way to keep the other children away from my things was to mark it as such. Pen was much too easy to rub or scratch off, so I began to carve instead." You couldn't help but eye the table of knives and scalpels. He looked thoughtful as he reminisced. "But in the end, I found that branding was the quickest and most effective method. Even to this day." His eyes flicked to yours and your heart stopped under his gaze. 

He came closer still and your brain finally put the pieces together, your head shaking and your breath quickening. “Please, please no, please no…” Your pleas trailed off as he held the brand close to you. You could feel the heat emanating off of it even though it was still inches away. He reveled in the look of absolute terror on your face. “You’re insane,” you spat, your fear reducing your ability to speak rationally. 

“Tell you what, cara,” he ignores your words, “I’ll let you pick the next one, hm?”

“The next?” You felt lightheaded. 

“Si,” he nodded. “I have quite the collection. You didn’t expect just one, did you?” You wanted to throw up as he brought the red hot metal lower, hovering below your waist. “But the first choice is mine, as are you.”

A scream echoed within the walls of the nearly barren room, your throat beginning to burn but not as much as your skin. The Cardinal pressed the brand firmly to your thigh, holding it in place with a gloved hand to ensure the mark was as perfect as possible. It felt like forever before the iron was removed, the smell of burning flesh churning your stomach. Even at the awkward angle you could see you were branded as his, the letters “CC” marking your thigh forever in a blistering burn. 

The Cardinal eyed his handiwork, seeming satisfied with how it turned out. You shrieked as the leather of his gloves brushed your tender skin, his fingers caressing what he had done. Hot tears ran down your face with a sob, the pain already beginning to break you. With a smile he patted your face. 

“We are not done yet, dolcezza,” he said, walking back towards the rack of branding irons. 

“Please.” Your whisper still echoed in the room. “Please have mercy, Your Eminence.” 

“Sweet Sorella,” he cooed, picking out another design. “Mercy is for those who worship God. And as you well know, He does not step foot here…” 

[forever-fixating]

RWRB Appreciation Month Bingo: First Family

For @rwrbsource and @rwrbmovie's RWRB Appreciation Month Bingo: First Family

First Family

Author's Note: All opinions are valid, but as someone raised by a working single mom, I find some of the fandom interpretations of Ellen disheartening. I felt compelled to write this, given all the bullshit swirling around in the news about Kamala Harris. I'm not saying Ellen is a perfect mom, that she didn't make mistakes with Alex and June, but I feel she is way better than some would give her credit for. Maybe that's just my bias showing because she reminds me so much of my mom. Plus, if we want to talk about parental neglect, I think that Catherine basically abandoning her children for years after Arthur's death deserves more scrutiny than is usually given. See my previous ficlet with Henry and Pez for more on that! (steps off soapbox)

Ellen Claremont could not sleep. Leo had taken his nighttime meds and fell fast asleep, currently snoring like a buzzsaw and making Ellen contemplate homicide. She went through her mental checklist one more time, nervous that she was forgetting something that would send the entire ceremony tumbling down tomorrow. Her baby boy was getting married. In the past week, she had gone through at least two packs of tissues from bursting into sporadic fits of tears. June gave her a one-armed hug when she started crying at the florist, confirming the delivery time and location for the arrangements.

"I'm so sorry," Ellen laughed, dabbing at her eyes. "It's just-"

"Oh, you don't have to explain, ma'am," the woman said with a sympathetic smile. "I bawled like a newborn baby when all three of mine got married. You look at them and still see the babies they once were."

"You should have seen her at the tux fitting," June said. Affecting a deep Southern accent, she mock-wailed, "Look at my little boy! He's so grown up. I remember dressing him for his first day of school and now-"

"You were crying too, as I recall!" Ellen said, smacking her oldest's arm. "Just wait 'till it's your turn. I'll be inconsolable."

The two women were joyfully involved in planning Alex's wedding. Right before her second term ended, Ellen was inundated with book deals to write about her historic presidency. After the dust settled and she returned to Austin, she finally went through her inbox and contemplated such a project. There was only one person she went to for help. She called her daughter and asked if she would be willing to work with her on the book.

June was hesitant at first, so Ellen said, "I think this could be good for us, honey. I know I can't make up for all the time we lost, but I don't want to lose anymore. You may not believe it all the time, but you and Alex have always been my greatest accomplishments."

As much as she wanted to, Ellen didn't tell Alex about her offer. She wanted June to want to do this with her. It took about three weeks, but one afternoon, June called. The first words out of her mouth were, "Warts and all, right? I don't want to leave any stone unturned."

"Warts and all," Ellen agreed. With a lump in her throat, she said, "Thank you, honey."

Working on the book with June was something Ellen would always treasure. Seeing her daughter in her element, neck-deep in research materials and pages of questions, made the older woman feel guilty for trying to force her into a box that suited Ellen's needs more than June's. There were days and nights of hard work and even harder conversations, but Ellen wouldn't trade a single second. June unburdened herself of long-held resentments. She cried over being forced to grow up too fast and pick up the slack of caring for Alex when Oscar left for California.

"I was so mad at you," June whispered, her voice wavering as she studied her manicured nails. "I was mad at you for making Dad leave, mad at you for always being busy, mad at you for putting total strangers before me and Alex."

Ellen reached out to take her daughter's hand when she cut herself off. It was difficult to hear how she failed her kids, but she knew June needed this. Their relationship wouldn't progress without addressing those hurts. June wiped her runny nose, saying, "As an adult, I realize there is more to it, but try telling that to a twelve-year-old who just wanted her mom to be like all the other moms. At home doing PTA and helping with my homework."

"I felt the same way about my momma," Ellen said, refilling their wine glasses. "Why couldn't I have new clothes instead of hand-me-downs from cousins? Why didn't she make me breakfast or pack me a lunch like Donna Reed? Never mind that she was a high school dropout and a widow working two, sometimes three, jobs just to support us. I couldn't see what she gave up, just what I lost."

June sniffled, her face crumpled. "I felt so guilty because you were out there changing the world, being this hero to so many, and all I could think was how I wanted you home with me, being my momma. I'm sor-"

"No, baby." Ellen pulled June into her arms and squeezed her tight. They were both crying now. "I can admit there were times when my job took precedence over you two. Christ, after what happened to Alex, I blamed myself and my relentless ambition. Why didn't I stay in Texas? Why couldn't I be happy there? How could I let something like this happen to my own son? But I told myself that if I did stay, he wouldn't have met the love of his life."

After tossing and turning for twenty minutes, Ellen gave up on sleeping and climbed out of bed. Immediate family on both sides chose to stay at the lakehouse before the big day. She slipped on her houseshoes and headed to the kitchen for a snack. She smiled when she saw Alex sitting at the counter, tapping away on his laptop.

"That better not be work-related," Ellen teased when she reached him, "or your husband-to-be will be mighty peeved."

Alex jumped but smiled sheepishly before closing the laptop. She took the chair next to him as he said, "I can neither confirm nor deny what I was doing, but I have a bottle of Maker's and a tub of Rocky Road to pay for your silence."

"Proceed, counselor."

Alex grinned and stood. She watched him move around the kitchen with the softest of smiles. The florist's words returned to her and never felt more true than in that moment. Though a young man stood there, pouring them whiskey and grabbing two spoons and a frosty tub of Bluebell out of the freezer, all she could see was a little boy arguing with a Seaworld employee, a lanky teen excited to drive without supervision. And now here he was, about to marry his fairytale prince.

When he caught her scrubbing the corner of her eye, he shook his head and said quickly, "No, no, no! Momma, please don't start crying 'cause if you start, I won't stop!"

"I'm sorry!" Ellen whimpered between giggles. Alex set their drinks down and put the Bluebell tub between them. As he took his seat, she sipped her whiskey and said, "You're just my baby boy, and you're getting married tomorrow. Poor Junie has been consoling me for weeks."

They clinked their glasses together, and he opened the ice cream. Each of them dug in with matching watery smiles. After a period of silence, Alex said softly, "Shit...I'm getting married tomorrow."

Ellen gave him a chocolate whiskey kiss on the cheek. "You sure are."

He ate another spoonful and said around it, "Is it weird that I'm not nervous? Like...I just want to go home with my husband and unpack our house together."

"Not at all, baby." She took another sip, relishing the burn down her throat. "Alex, when things were at their worst, your love for that boy was unshakeable. Trust in that always, and you'll be okay."

"Any other pearls of wisdom?"

Ellen snorted. "You sure you want my advice? I did get divorced."

"That's why I trust you more than most," he said, his eyes and voice so earnest. "May not have gotten it right the first time, but you got there eventually."

Ellen hummed. She thought back to her marriage with Oscar. Already pregnant, they opted for a quick ceremony with the Justice of the Peace. Neither of their families was happy about that decision, thinking they were moving too fast. All her momma could say when Ellen asked her to be there was, "You're gonna regret this, Ellie, but you're grown. I can't stop you."

"Well," Ellen sighed, leaning back into her chair, "the most important thing, especially since you're your momma's child, is to make time for him. Don't wait for birthdays or anniversaries to celebrate each other. If you see a trinket that makes you smile and think of him, buy it. The little moments are just as important as the big ones, baby."

"Is that why you and Dad didn't work?"

She gave her son a sad smile and said, "If I'm perfectly honest, I don't think your daddy and me would've made it long-term. We were both too stubborn to listen, too proud to compromise. But Alex, I wouldn't change a thing. All the mistakes I've made, the regrets I have...you two were never that."

Alex ducked his head, his long curls falling forward. "Goddamn it, Momma. Told you not to make me cry."

"Oh, baby," she laughed. Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed his head and said, "You and Henry are forever. I've never felt more certain about anything in my life."

"More than winning the Presidency?" Alex laughed.

"Especially more than that."

A/N: I tried to give space for valid criticisms of Ellen while still allowing for some grace and understanding. That she and Alex have such a good relationship in the book counts for something in my mind. Share your thoughts down below! I love getting nerdy about RWRB.

Check out this post and join the fun in celebrating the one-year anniversary of our little romcom that could being released!

[kotelok16]

Hii so I’m new here and haven’t touched danganronpa in years, so I’m just curious as to what got you into komamiki? My mind is blown whenever I see a ship that’s not implied in canon, so seeing your art was like woah!!!! And I just like getting people to infodump about stuff they love 💕

Thanks a lot for the question, anon! This is gonna be a long post, be prepared

In fact, I remember very poorly the moment when I got involved in this pairing. As I understand it, I saw one piece of art and just fell in love with this couple? That is, my brain clicked and was like, "Listen, I like it, there's something in this!"

If you still asking "why" I liked this pairing, then the main reason is an interesting dynamic. Yes, yes, komamiki haters, I know about the ending of the third trial and that these two "hate each other" (as they usually write). But... Isn't there a special charm in this? Has the path from hate to love stopped being a thing? I mean, at the end of the trial, it was shown how well Mikan caught Nagito's weakness. She could have left him speechless with a precise phrase. She understood Nagito.

Isn't there some spice in the fact that you are best understood by the person you dislike now? And everyone you admire didn't even try to understand you?? (yes, Hajime tried in free-time events. I know, I don't deny it. Just for now we are talking about the main plot).

Of course, I can think too much like any other fan of any other pairing. But this dynamic is driving me crazy!

It gives me pleasure to reflect on how difficult it would be for komamiki to restore a neutral relationship to begin with after the events of the game. And it's going to be difficult, as it's going to be difficult for all the killers and victims to talk about what happened, you know? And the difficulties are ✨interesting✨.

What I also like about komamiki is that they are two broken people who can understand each other. They both need psychological (and not only) help, okay?? But in this path of recovery, they can become each other's support.

Mikan is emotional, reads the general atmosphere and someone else's mood very easily, worries a lot. Nagito is actually more detached and calm (unless we're talking about hope-). He knows how to show the emotions needed at the moment, but he does not always read the general atmosphere (and does not always consider it necessary, he is on his own mind). In total, we have two broken people, one is very emotional and reads people well, and the second is calm, which adjusts to the mood of people. And both have low self-esteem and are very, let's call it, helpful. "I will do anything, just don't hate me!" and "I will do everything to become your stepping stone to hope!"

At the same time, they can learn a lot from each other and take care of each other. Mikan, of course, as a nurse. I like to think too much that she put all her strength into Nagito's life after him waking up from the New World Program. Komaeda, in turn, is sharp-tongued, and can protect his emotional girlfriend from unwanted comments verbally. He also knows how to express admiration, I think such words won't hurt Mikan. Tsumiki can also express in words and actions the importance of Nagito's life to her. Uh, a mutual aid circle??

Will such a relationship be difficult? OF COURSE, absolutely. But do you really think that any relationship does not involve difficulties? Including healthy relationships, which are being talked about a lot now? Like, guys, psychologists identify the crisis stages that ANY married couple goes through. The question is not what kind of problems are in the relationship, but how they will be solved. But I got off the subject.

If I think again about the post-canon, then I am hooked by the idea that the Class 77 will become the world's enemy. Not without reason, let's be honest. But, you see, there is no one left in their world who would accept them, except classmates (no, Makoto, don't look at me like that-). "In this world, we only have each other." Isn't this a bit dramatic, tragic and romantic?! (tragic for the most part, but we love it here)

Uh, I think this post is already quite long, it's worth taking stock. I love komamiki, I see an interesting, complex dynamic between them. Most of the time I draw them cute, gentle, romantic, well, because I like to draw them like that. I'm interested in thinking about their relationship, but drawing all sorts of cute things gives me peace of mind. Thanks again for the question, anon! It's always a joy to talk about your favorite couple^^