#but then also chipping away at this verse

[take-ya-to-the-ghey-bar]

-vibrates in i wanna be around, but brainrot for old fandoms is consuming me-

[justyourtypicalwriter]

I feel like I should announce this so even though a lot of the kids have already been assigned disabilities, request for other disabilities to give them are open as of right now!

As a community I require as many ideas as humanly possible to fuck up the boys. And if it’s unable to be added to the character it’s been requested to go to don’t fret because it will be added to someone!

I say this because I’m seriously considering giving Kyle some form of bipolar and Stan CVS sooooo…thoughts and suggestions for anything you want to see lmao

[shiigures-a]

"You aren't going to tease me for only having gotten two swords, making my count to three are you? Because I am not copying you. I'm not copying anybody".

@cnigiri liked for a starter.

[thcdoomed]

She thinks the worst of it is that she's never even allowed herself the chance to grieve. When her parents died of illness, there was time to process it, she went back to work almost immediately, but she allowed herself the grace to grieve, to break down and cry. But when Caius died, when every family and neighbor she had grown up with, when all the rest of her adventuring party, had been brutally and viciously killed, she had no chance to grieve. She had nothing but Jalen's kindness and a mission to avenge them. But not grief, not the time to properly grieve. She carried their names in her heart like a makeshift graveyard, their souls weighing down mighty shoulders enough that sometimes even her drawing arm trembles. And even if her turning didn't fully kick in until they were in these Shadow Cursed Lands, she had felt a wrongness in her since she woke that morning among the wreckage.

Only now did she have a name for it.

Everyone here carried something with them, they were all doomed in some awful way, weren't they? It couldn't have just been fate that they all converged. They had to become each others' strength. A shoulder to lean on when they could no longer stand. And while all of them had different struggles, there was overlap. Astarion and Gale both understood her hunger in their own ways, in a strange way, it is nice not to be alone in that, even if she wouldn't wish it on anyone.

They were all in this together.

"I know, I know, but please, I would never try to insult you on purpose. It's not in my nature." She barely even had an insult to throw at their enemies. Threats, sure, but not insults. She was no bard, she would save the witty insults for her funnier friends. Astarion and Karlach seemed quite good at it. Shadowheart as well. Her eyes wander the camp, maybe out of fear that they were talking about her, about her fall from grace. And yet none seem afraid of her, more worried than anything. And yet sharp as her senses now be, she can't quite focus on anything they're saying, a din of voices muddling together to an incomprehensible clutter of noise. "I have to. It's all I know, Gale. I've rarely rested on my laurels. Especially now, especially with so much at stake." But he's read her like some dusty old tome. He's right. She will work herself to the bone and then down to the marrow until she can go no deeper. Anything to get away from her own problems.

Maybe she's a coward when it comes to reflecting on herself. Dealing with everyone else's problems is easier, she can remove herself from her own problems until they are distant thoughts. And yet, every so often her problems force their way to the surface, the visages of death dancing behind her eyelids whenever she closed them, sinking their fangs into her throat and tearing until the entire thing is in shreds. One day, perhaps she will reveal the full extent of the story, beyond the horrific visions. All everyone knew of her previously was the quaint life she lived out in the countryside, learning to hunt alongside her father, a life truly lived off the land in a quiet village. Something so painfully normal and modest. Were a bard recalling their tales at the beginning, little mind would be paid to her story, she suspects. Never mind that her family were known for centuries to be some of the most renowned spider hunters in Faerun. But they all had something remarkable about them, after all. They were all survivors of something, bound together in their turmoil. "Good. I don't think I could bear to part with any of you any time soon." There is a dread in knowing that by the time this is over, she may not see most of them for some time, if ever again.

As Dronia eyes the heated bath, she removes her leather armor until she is in something far more suited for the warm bath, something far less likely to shrink under the heat. "One day, maybe I will. I haven't allowed myself a chance to grieve, no sooner did I reach the city was I thrown into all this, I've been so busy trying to make sure we survive that..." She draws in a deep breath, her voice shaking, "I didn't keep all my heart though. Part of it died that night. The man you saw... his name was Caius, he was my fiance. We were to be wed two weeks after that night. I would..." she doesn't finish the thought. She's here now, nothing would ever bring him back, her mind flits back to Mayrina and how when they got the wand and she asked her to bring Connor back, she excused herself. It was too much, the first crack showing. She snaps herself back to the present. "You're too kind to me, Gale." The scents of the oils and soaps manage to override the blood that still clung so stubbornly to her face. "Do I smell lavender in there?"

He knows how to keep a secret. As well, too, Gale's felt that blistering urgency to veil his scars. Few would grant them their kindness, and few would lend them their words, and fewer still, cruelly few, would temper their ruin when their hearts half-trembling would near their break. This renders it theirs, their blistering horrors like some burdensome tomb. Yet, Gale knows her conviction, that quavering desire to nurse pain alone, for none, he has thought, should blister in his name. None here alive should heft this coffin. He's a danger, a monster lurking ugly in his bones, and none who draws breath would deserve its teeth and clawing. None should be a pallbearer, not for his hurts.

But then, don't they deserve it, a passing glimmer of sympathy? He knows what it's like, her presence felt as he charms the water with a quaint heating spell. It isn't sustainable, truly, to clamor on stubbornly with a box for the dead. His knees are trembling and his muscles yowl, and soon enough, his spirit would surrender like the turning of the seasons. They aren't made to suffer, but they surely seem resigned to.

...even if their souls so crave connection.

 (Bury it, they tell themselves. Ensure that it's the concern of nobody else.)

"A valiant effort, certainly, but lest you forget, you're in the company of one Gale of Waterdeep. You'd have to do a great deal better than that to pull a fast one on me. I could believe that attempt an insult...but I'll take it in stride." How generous. Distantly, the rest of the party has begun to prepare themselves for slumber. Karlach's chattering could be heard, and mingled in there, Astarion is muttering, something blasé, dramatic, but utterly casual. There's worry on Wyll's part, and a staple pragmaticism on their darling Sharran, but as far as Gale's concerned, the whole of their party sounds relatively normal--a bit stunned, perhaps, but nothing so egregious. Lae'zel says something, and Gale picks up a vial as she does so. He catches Dronia in the glass, rotating it a touch to catch her face, and despite the blood and her glowing, gleaming eyes, she, stood there, seems so small. "With as much flattery as I can muster, you work yourself not unlike a rothé. You could set out and accomplish everything that would ever need doing, and by the end of it, you'll go scouring for more with which to lose yourself in. No rest for the wicked, so goes the saying. Or in your case, anyway, for those not quite."

Like an escape, perhaps. Ah. He wonders if that's partly what it's become to her. The harder she works, perhaps the farther from reality she can place herself. She hardly wants sleep, deigns to rest when he himself would buckle to his knees, and now knowing what she is, he can't honestly blame her. Imagine: the nightmares she must see. And the memory of turning. He hasn't her story in much the same manner that she hasn't his own, but between them both, something great and integral feels to shift. Like? Another chapter in their friendship. A bond of greater profundity. "Much happens in a month. Far be it from me to assume the desires of our wayward party, but I wager we're in no rush to be lost to you either." Right. They're all rather stuck. Survival, even doomed as he so feels, is what brings them together, cording them up tighter than he knows. Gale's gentle, facing Dronia as the heated water wafts behind him. It's glistening, cajoling her into its comforting depths. He invites her to take it, his smile layered and patient. "It's humbling, losing all that which was so difficult in the obtaining. Few prospects are more daunting than to stand there so profoundly bare. All the same, it's with certainty that I declare myself all the more approving of the image before me. I'm inclined to agree. You have kept your heart regardless of your story. One day soon, I should like you to see yourself in the way that I would. You have glimpsed beyond my hungers, and you would accept me regardless." He breathes, orb pulsing a twinge beneath his skin. "It gives me no small amount of joy to show you the same. We all need someone. Now. I do believe it's time for you take a well deserved respite. You've your choice among my soaps and oils. It's a luxury I reserve for an exclusive few."

[wannaeatramyeon]

Daniel Park with Unhinged F! Reader

You, the peak of the verse with a list of supposedly strong and powerful men to kill meet.

Gun Park | Goo Kim | Samuel Seo | Samuel Seo Part 2 | James Lee/DG | Jinyoung Park | Eli Jang | Tom Lee | Ryuhei Kuroda | Eugene | Vin Jin | Charles Choi | Daniel Park

I had a request sometime last year on Unhinged F!Reader helping out Allied. Soooo- this is my response to it...

'Why are you following me?"

You turn around in the alleyway to see a guy approximately the same height as you. Unremarkable if not for the way he has managed to pick you out from the shadows and keep up with your steps.

"Please, I need your help."

Help? Does this person have any idea who you are?

You arch an eyebrow at his request as he continues to stare at you with wide eyes.

Honestly. Did he think this puppy dog look was going to work on you? Of all people? You don't say anything, letting the silence add pressure until he spills out his guts.

Something about the Four Crews and HNH, which vaguely rings a bell.

You start to examine your nails as he rambles, quickly losing interest. Damn, is that dried blood underneath? You really must clean them better post fight.

And tch! Another chipped nail too. Ugh.

Oh. He's still talking, huh.

You've already tuned him out but the sound of his voice grows irritating and you cut him off, just as he starts to mention the Ten Geniuses or whatever.

You thrust a palm out at him, inches from his face and clever boy, he shuts up immediately. "Why should I help you?"

"Um." He hesitates. "I can pay you?"

"Not interested."

"I.. I can copy moves? You can teach me to be your masterpiece-"

"Cool," you say, stifling a yawn. Wasn't that crazy old doctor also a copy user? You dispatched him without difficulty.

"Let me guess-" You start ticking off each point on your fingers.

"One. You don’t move like you’re a natural, so you do have a master but they're not cutting it anymore- " He nods.

"Two. You've somehow found out about me and managed to seek me out-"  You don't tell him you're reluctantly impressed at that part.

"Three. Then hoped that I would help you because I have such a good moral compass-" You roll your eyes at this. What is it with pathetic men expecting women to clean up their mess?

"Four. So you've come here to ask me to help and promise me riches as a sweetener but sorry to break your heart, I don't give a shit-" He recoils, taken aback by your bluntness.

"Anyway, which mediocre fool has been teaching you?"

"One of the Ten Geniuses I mentioned. The Learning Genius."

What a lame title. "Who?"

"Gun Park."

You have a vague recollection of this person and gesture for him to tell you more as you pull out your small slip of paper. The one with the list of crossed out names, that you hunted down and defeated one by one until only a few remain. 

Oh wait... the name Gun Park is here-

"Um. Black eyes, half naked all the time, tattoos on his arms, smokes-"

"Right!" You click your fingers. "That loser! The Learning Genius, did you say?"

He widens his eyes at you insulting his master but nods anyway.

"Pfffft-" you stifle a laugh unsuccessfully. Goddamn that is funny.

"Learning Genius!" You squeal, letting out a cackle that leaves his hairs standing on end. The more you think about it, the funnier it gets. On what planet is that guy qualified, good enough, to teach anyone? You laugh and laugh, clutching your stomach as he backs away awkwardly.

Wiping away tears from your eyes, you make up your mind and ask, "What did you say your name was?"

"I... I didn't. It's Daniel Park,"

You dig out the pen in your pocket and add his name to your list.

He's undercooked. Maybe fun in a few more years but now Daniel is nothing but a baby. It'll be fun to crush him eventually.

"Listen," You fold your note carefully, slipping it back into your pocket. "I have zero inclination to help you. None."

He opens his mouth to argue-

And you cut him off again with a shrug. "Mainly 'cause I don't want to. Anyway, I'll find you once you're ready to fight. It'll be a shame to kill you any sooner, but-"

You lunge at him, slamming Daniel into the wall with a hand on his neck before he has had a chance to react.

"- Follow me again and I won't hesitate." You smile sweetly, like butter wouldn't melt. Smile stretching further, turning monstrous and unhinged when you feel him attempt to free himself from your grasp but to no avail.

You give his throat one more squeeze for good measure as he chokes and claws at your hand before releasing him. “See ya!”

Daniel drops to the floor, gasping desperately for air and rubbing at his neck. Thinks that this has been a grave mistake and now he has a target on his back.

He watches you, humming to yourself and sashaying away into the night, melting into the shadows once more.

[arcielee]

sinful

Summary: Lucifer shows you what Adam is lacking. Paring: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: 18+, Reader AFAB, sexual discomfort hinted, sexual inexperience, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, cunnilingus from the leader of all demons, and also Bible verses being used to create sexual tension?? Author's Note: Well, I have fallen headfirst into the Hellaverse and needed to get this smut out of my system. Bible verses being used are 1 Corinthians 9-10 & Galatians 5:17. This was inspired by the artwork created by cluffy_25 from IG & TikTok. Maybe now I can finally get some sleep. I hope you enjoy! 😭

On that fateful day of your creation, there was a palpable shift in paradise from the jealousy that was sown into the earth. 

Lucifer was first in the shadows, just another specter amongst the watchful wonderment as the rib pulled from Adam was crafted, flesh intricately woven; the sight of you was a holy splendor, surpassing every and any expectation imagined. When it was proclaimed that your image was the likeness of Yahweh, he had scoffed, ignoring the chorus of angels recoiling; the truth–which he spoke out loud–was that your beauty was a novel artistry all its own. 

He continued that nothing, that no one, could even compare to you. 

It did not help that the praises above echoed this sentiment and further seeded a growing resentment, its envious tendrils wrapping and rotting Eden from within. With it, your novelty was peeled away, but Lucifer remained enraptured with your ethereal grace, with your careful consideration you showed to all living things as you learned your surroundings. 

He also saw the covetous gaze cast from the angels and how they poorly masked it with a cold reserve that was met with your every interaction. 

Lucifer saw how it began to chip away at the kindness you gave freely. He burned when he saw the hurt that touched your lovely features, he fumed at the sound of your disheartened sigh of acceptance that this was all you could expect from this life given. 

Your isolation called to his loneliness, and with Lucifer, you found a kindred spirit. You were grateful with how he returned your genuineness, even finding a sense of comfort, of validation, at the tip of his brazen tongue that did not fear consequence. With him, you found your thoughts could be shared, the ones you carefully clutched to your chest, and would not be met with any judgment–your shy whispers on your divine purpose that came knitted with your existence and the gilded cage that it created. 

Though he seemed an empathetic creature, always kind to you, you were also aware of the stories and his lore. You caught a glimpse one day when you let slip the chore required of you to lay with Adam, a duty you tried to complete quickly and quietly when he demanded. 

The air around you thickened, and you saw the demon that thrummed beneath the surface: the flash of red in his eyes, the heat from the flame on his furrowed brow. Something powerful, something dire that came and went with your heartbeat. 

This was an intimate subject that Lucifer always precariously balanced on the precipice of, always alluring to something unknown by you. He hinted at the shrine you possessed, giving you just a taste of something sinful, of something more that was within your reach. He spoke of pleasure that could be found, but when you mentioned this to Adam, he only sneered. 

For man did not come from woman, but woman from man; neither was man created for woman, but woman for man.

“But do you ever wish for more?”

It was another day in the garden. Adam had been swept away by the angels who remained in awe of the First Man, but this never bothered you. You welcomed the reprieve, slipping away to return to the natural arbor by the river weaving through the oasis. 

Here the branches curled overhead, light streaking through and the leaves blanketing the ground. Your legs were stretched to feel the sun that fell through, allowing Lucifer to lay his head on your plush thighs. His eyes were watching you, waiting for your response to his question. 

Your lips pursed. “I already have all that I could ever need.” You were careful with your words, your fingers moving to comb through his golden hair.

He hummed with your touch. “I did not say need,” his eyes were still trained to you, an upwards curl to his lips. “I asked if you wished for something more, for something else.” 

“What else could I possibly want?” Your brow quirked. It was part question, part curiosity. The fallen angel seemed to speak in riddles. 

His eyes glittered. “Free will.” 

“But I have free will.”

“Free will allows you choices all your own,” he argued, still smiling. “Would you have chosen Adam if you had not been given to him?”

Lucifer grinned as he watched his words catch in your throat. It was another intrusive thought he always seemed to uncover, pulling to the surface. Your blood stained the apples of your cheeks and your tongue wet your lips. 

“Adam,” you began, pulling your hands away and placing them at your sides, “was created in the likeness of God.” This was the repeated mantra sung from the heavens, words you spoke now without any conviction. “To not choose him would be to not choose the one true…” 

But it faded to obscurity once you became aware of his close proximity; he pulled himself upright before facing you, leaning in with his intensive gaze. “Adam is not God, but only a man.” His voice was low, fanning against your cheeks, and your skin flushed hotly with his words.

This was not the first time he reminded you that Adam was just a man, merely created from the dust of the earth. You never defended whenever Lucifer spoke of Adam’s failures, his certainty that Adam did not give this pleasure you deserved.

It was a topic that piqued your interest, but you felt too bashful to continue it before. But now…

“Free will should allow you the option to choose for more,” his honeyed tone continued. “Should you not experience all that this life has to offer?” 

For a moment, you could only hear the orchestra life created, the rustle of the leaves with the soft breeze and the water that flowed. You had always thought Lucifer was handsome. There was something captivating about him, and right now, you were entranced with the new emotion that now played in the amber glow of his eyes.

Like what, you dared to whisper, eyes wide. 

Lust of the flesh, he replied with an elegant arc to his brow, with an impish curl to his lips.

You felt your skin prickling, something that flitted along the seams of your being before returning to coil in your abdomen. It was something that pulled you to the precarious ledge he seemed perpetually perched on. 

And you kissed him. 

It was gentle and it was quick, though your heart bruised against your ribs with your bold action. You felt the embarrassment flood your features, but when you tried to pull away, his hand caught the back of your neck, his fingers curling into your nape. His mouth captured yours with vigor and your mind splintered from the softness of his lips, from the warmth of his mouth; a sensation that screamed throughout you, craving for more.

Flesh lusts against the spirit…these are contrary, the one to the other.

He stopped the moment you tensed, pulling back and allowing you a breath. Your lips were swollen and flushed, your eyes glassy as they came to focus on the Prince of Darkness. “This does not have to go further unless you wish it to,” his voice soft with his emphasis.

The choice presented like a thick haze that swirled around you, drawing you towards him again. This pleasure promised trilled your veins, and your hands moved to grasp and pull him closer for another clumsy kiss. 

Your body sang from his touch as his fingers skimmed over to grab into your hips, his warmth alighting your every nerve. His mouth moved to your jaw, to the curve of your neck and lower, nipping at your collarbone. You giggled, squirming against him, and his hold moved to cradle your lower back, a guiding press backwards until you were laying on the grass. 

“Trust me,” he whispered against your skin, his hot mouth trailing lower. 

Lucifer nestled between your thighs, his hands never leaving your body so you were aptly aware of his next movements. His head turned to press a kiss on the inside of your knee, following along with licks and nips of his teeth and tongue, plumes of color following his wake. It was a slow pacing, creeping towards your core, feeling how your blood simmered beneath, your body blossoming with his methodical ministrations. 

Your legs widened, welcoming him and his intimate touch. His fingers pressed a v-shape to spread your folds, his exhaling tickling against your cunt, swollen and glossy with your arousal. He moved closer, a tentative touch of his tongue, and you melted against his mouth. He groaned with your taste, briny and begging for more; his hands curled under your thighs, canting your hips to meet with his lips. 

It was a sensation that seared through your veins, a bolt straightening your spine. You gasped again, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair to ground yourself as his forked tongue moved with precision and with purpose. 

He was mindful of your every sound, your bated breath and your sweet sighs, the mewling noises that spilled like nectar from your lips. He pulled you towards a plateau of pleasure that resonated throughout your core, rattling your bones beneath. 

You felt him swell against you, burning between, and your thighs clenched around him. Your chin pressed down to see him, truly for the first time: his horns curling up from his blond hair, the blood-red glow of his eyes pooling onto your skin. 

Your mouth fell open, shock and pleasure twisting from your lungs. 

Lucifer lifted his head, meeting with your teary gaze, his sharp smile gleaming from your slick. “You may grab onto them, if you need to.” His voice was low, husky. 

Your hands trembled to touch and their smooth texture was warm against your palms. You reverberated with his low chuckle as he dipped his head back to the apex of your thighs, his vitality unleashed. He feasted on your essence, and your hands gripped the base of his horns as his forked tongue carved into your sensitive flesh, a pulsing pleasure that poured hotly in your core. You cried out with the prod at your entrance, and he pressed a quick kiss to soothe as his finger curled within you. 

“You are doing so well for me,” he crooned as his finger searched, brushing against a spot that brightened your vision, curling your toes. He hummed again, and you felt his satisfaction curling on his lips. “Can you take another one for me?”

Your back arched with his touch; the tandem of his tongue and fingers thrilled you, the pulsing pleasure coiling so tight it was as if your heart was beating outside your body. It unfurled, a blinding light, a sobbed release, this euphoria wrenching the air from your lungs and your muscles contracting around his digits; and Lucifer continued his come hither motion to your completion. 

You were eventually brought back to your body, feeling a gentle breeze against the sheen of sweat, the grounding weight pressing to the inside of your thigh. You blinked, seeing Lucifer with his head resting against you, his fingers drawing lazy designs on your skin. His wicked grin was splayed, watching through hooded eyes at the slow rise and fall of your chest as you regained your breath. 

You blushed furiously, feeling the dull throb between your thighs, the last remnants of your pleasure he craftily pulled from you. But there was also an ache, a contrast of emotions playing in the haze of your mind: the purpose you were given and this newfound pleasure had. 

These are contrary, the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would wish.

The blood drained as you pushed to your elbows, a prickling fear that followed the curve of your spine. You stammered, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. “W-what did you say?” 

Lucifer tilted his head, his brow furrowed, confused. “I only said that you were beautiful,” and he pushed up, moving to kiss you, softly, sweetly. “You are beautiful just like this.”

You allowed his kiss to comfort you, rekindling the fire he had found within you, with the sweet taste of your sin on his lips. 

arcie's masterlist

[fkinkindagauche]

Possibly Maybe

I got a little carried away combining three of my @steddiebingo Twelve Days of Christmas Mini-Event prompts, and wrote 16K of omegaverse bullshit. Prompt fills were: 1) cookies, 2) meet cute, and 3) candy canes.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 16K | Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down (Stranger Things), Meet-Cute, Omega Verse, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Eddie Munson, Alpha Steve Harrington, Bottom Eddie Munson, Top Steve Harrington, Barebacking, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Intersex Omegas, Knotting

Summary: Eddie falls in love with the cookies from a little shop run by a really annoying guy. Definitely just the cookies.

Full fic on AO3.

Eddie wasn't sure why he had to be the one to pick up the cookies. It was Jeff's mate's baby shower, why couldn't one of her friends have picked them up? He was pissed he even had to go to the baby shower, but Jeff insisted that Melissa would be upset if his only omega friend hadn't shown up to support them.

So Eddie was already in a bad mood when he walked into the cookie shop, and his mood wasn't improved by the long line. It was a kitschy shop he'd never heard of that was somehow able to survive selling only cookies. No other baked goods. No coffee. It looked like there was only one employee working today. Eddie checked his watch. He was gonna be late and Jeff was gonna kill him.

The line moved at a snail's pace. Eddie inched slowly toward the counter, where an unfairly attractive guy was working the register. He looked like he'd be much more at home in a yacht club with his perfectly styled brown hair and form-fitting polo and khakis. Exactly like all the guys who'd made Eddie's teenage years absolute hell. The only sign that he belonged in the cookie shop was the flour-stained bright pink apron he had on over his outfit.

By the time Eddie finally got to the register, the acrid scent of his frustration was bleeding through his dampeners. He'd always been an unfortunately pungent omega. It made it so much harder to hide what he was feeling, which had also contributed to making his teenage years something of a disaster.

"How can I help you?" the employee asked when Eddie got to the register. The employee's calm demeanor in the face of Eddie's rapidly rising panic at how late he was going to be was the last straw for Eddie. He hated nothing more than being faced with someone cool, calm, and collected when he was about to lose his shit.

"Does this place always make customers wait so long, or is it just when you're working," Eddie's eyes flicked down to the guy's name badge, "Steve?"

Steve's eyebrows shot up, but he gave no other visible sign of offense. "Sorry for the inconvenience," he said, in perfect, soulless retail-speak. "It's a busy time of year, and one of my only other employees has the flu. What can I get you?"

Eddie bristled at the brush-off. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Steve. "I'm here to pick up an order. For Benson."

Steve nodded. "One second." He turned around and went into a back room. Eddie glanced at his watch again. Even if he sped all the way to Jeff's, he'd still be late.

"Any time this morning would be great!" Eddie yelled after the man.

An old woman in line behind him tutted disapprovingly, but he ignored her. Eddie stared at the cookies in the display case while he waited. Most of them were ridiculously overdone, decorated like fucking cakes or something, but his eyes were drawn to a perfect-looking, simple chocolate chip cookie. His stomach grumbled. He hadn't had time for breakfast that morning.

He was still staring at the cookie when Steve finally walked back up to the register carrying a large box, vacant customer service expression still on his face. Eddie couldn't pick up any scent at all coming from him.

Steve followed Eddie's eyes to the display case, pulling out the cookie Eddie was staring at and placing it in a small bag. "For your trouble," he said, handing the cookie to Eddie with a smile. "I appreciate your patience."

Eddie grabbed the cookie from his hand with a glare. This bozo wasn't gonna be able to win him over with a free cookie and a smile. But also Eddie definitely wasn't going to turn down that cookie. He shoved it in his pocket and picked up the box of baby shower cookies. Jeff had already paid for them.

"Have a good day!" Steve called as Eddie left without a word. "Come again soon!"

Eddie angrily shoved the consolation cookie in his mouth with one hand while he hurried to his car. It was, of course, obscenely good, which only made Eddie more annoyed.

Jeff and Melissa were not pleased when Eddie rolled in thirty minutes late.

"What the hell, Eddie?" Melissa hissed, grabbing the cookies from him. "You've already missed some of the games!"

"Oh, however will I recover," Eddie deadpanned, holding a hand to his heart.

Melissa glared at him, opening the box. Her face instantly lit up. "These are amazing!" she cooed. "You were right, Jeffy, this guy is fantastic!"

Jeff looked over her shoulder at the unnecessarily fancy cookies. "Oh, yeah, look at that. Chrissy was right, this guy's cookies are great."

Eddie snorted. "Well you should tell him, whoever he is, that the customer service at his shop sucks. There was only one employee there, and he was annoying."

Jeff gave him a confused look. "I've only ever seen the owner working there. I don't even know if he has other employees."

"Well, he must," Eddie insisted. "Because there's no way the guy who was there today owns a cookie shop."

Jeff shrugged and changed the subject. "Thanks for picking them up. At least you got them here before the party ended," he teased.

Eddie couldn't stop thinking about that fucking chocolate chip cookie. It was the best cookie he'd ever had. In his entire life. And he considered himself a bit of a cookie connoisseur. Whoever was running that shop knew what they were doing. About cookies, at least. Maybe not about hiring.

He really tried not to go back to the shop, not wanting to chance another encounter with Steve. He went on a cookie journey throughout the city, searching in vain for a comparable chocolate chip experience. But nothing hit the spot quite like that cookie.

Which is how he found himself standing in front of the shop a few weeks after Melissa's shower, trying to peer in through the window to see if that asshole was working again. There were no customers, though, so whoever was working must have been in the back.

Jeff had said it was almost always the owner working, so Eddie decided to take his chances and hope that's who he'd get this time. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

A bell tinkled above the door as Eddie breathed in the scent of fresh-baked cookies. "Just a second!" a voice called from a room behind the counter.

Eddie walked to the counter, looking at the cookies. There were plenty of the fancy, decorated cookies that the shop was apparently known for, but also quite a few simple cookies which made Eddie's mouth water.

He looked up as the door behind the counter opened. Steve, the man from before, came out, smiling pleasantly.

Eddie's face fell. "You again?" he groused.

Steve looked confused for a moment, then recognition crossed his face. "Ah," he huffed. "Come to scold me for my poor customer service again?"

These pretty rich kids really thought their shit didn't stink. "Does the owner of this place know you're such a little shit?" Eddie growled.

"I'm the owner of this place," Steve drawled with an amused smile. "Did you like the chocolate chip cookie?"

Eddie's scent soured with annoyance. "Seriously?" he groaned.

"Seriously," Steve replied. He looked way too pleased with himself. A vague scent started to bleed into the air from Steve, surprising Eddie. He had assumed the man was a beta. He was too big for an omega, but he ran a cookie store, a very unorthodox career choice for an alpha.

The scent was a delicate mix of pine and sandalwood, with just a hint of something sharp and sweet that reminded Eddie of candy canes. Eddie was startled to realize he liked it. He hadn't liked the scent of anyone who wasn't in his immediate pack in a really fucking long time. Figured it would happen with a replica of a Ken doll. He probably had the personality of a Ken doll, too.

"Well? Was the cookie good?"Steve prompted when he got no response from Eddie.

"No," Eddie lied.

"Then why are you back?"

As much as Eddie wanted to leave without buying anything, that was a betrayal his stomach wouldn't allow. "My friend. Who had the baby shower. She has really bad taste in cookies so I guess she likes yours. She wants more." It sounded idiotic even to Eddie's ears.

"Sure." Steve smirked. "What does she want? More of the iced cookies? I have some pretty Christmas trees right now." He motioned to the case.

"No," Eddie snapped. "She wants to try the snickerdoodles. And the peanut butter cookies." Eddie paused, trying to rein himself in. He felt the ensuing blurt come directly from his stomach, "And five of the chocolate chip cookies."

Steve raised his eyebrows. "She just knows she's going to want five of them? Even though she's never tried them?"

Eddie swallowed audibly. "Yes. I described them to her. I'm a really talented food narrator."

Steve hummed thoughtfully, getting out a box for the cookies. "How'd you describe them? I'm intrigued."

"Don't remember," Eddie mumbled.

"Oh. Do you wanna try one again now to jog your memory?" Steve held one of the heavenly cookies out to Eddie. The scent wafted into his nostrils. Eddie worried he might start drooling.

"No!" Eddie yelped, batting away the cookie before he lost all self-control. "I told you, I didn't like them."

"Right," Steve said, drawing out the vowel.

"Just give me the cookies," Eddie grumbled, pulling out his wallet.

The corner of Steve's mouth twitched up in an aborted smile as he packed up the rest of the cookies. He cashed Eddie out, handing over the box.

"Hope your friend enjoys," Steve needled.

Eddie grabbed the box and fled.

Read the full fic on AO3!

Other Twelve Days of Christmas Prompt Fills:

A Golden Opportunity - threesome, elf

The Indiana Lakers - make up sex

A Naughty Lullaby - mpreg, morning sex

White and Rare and Full of All Kinds of Rage - chill, frost, travel - WARNING NON-CON

[pedrito-friskito]

disobedient - miguel o’hara x fem!reader (spidersona)

do you get off on disobeying me?

a/n: I regret fuck all folks. part 1 of 2 (no clue when part 2 will happen but it will). special shouts to @psychedelic-ink, @inklore, and @splendiferous-bitch for feeding my miguel obsession and being the best ❤️‍🔥

word count: 6.5k

warnings: oh mama. sex pollen, unprotected p-in-v, rough sex, desperate miguel, multiple orgasms, in a shocking twist a whole lotta exposition cuz I gotta make the fucking make sense, y’know?

✨@friskito-library for new works✨

You’re not supposed to do this.

You’re not supposed to be here, period, but the notion hasn’t stopped you thus far. It’s just gonna make him more pissed off than he normally is, but pissing Miguel O’Hara off has quickly climbed to the top of your list of talents, and you’re content to continue doing as you please.

Especially if it means he’ll keep glowering at you with those eyes of his.

+

It threw you off initially — him, in general. Unfairly large, all rippling muscle and too-tiny waist, the hip-to-shoulder ratio of a Dorito chip and retractable claws you’ve seen more than once now. Not to mention an ass that looks like it was sculpted by a god. But it was the eyes that caught your attention, when you caught him glowering at you from a shadowy corner, like a predator hunting its prey.

“You gonna keep gawking,” you��d asked, “or come say hello like a normal person?”

Neither of you fit that category — normal people, boring — and he’d ignored your quip, actually growling at you as he stalked out of the shadows and brushed past you, bumping your shoulder in the process, and your brow had lifted at the way his suit seemed to ripple with the impact, forming and reforming against his skin. You saw it all, thanks to your spider-tacular vision, and your next thought after I want to sink my teeth into that ass, was I need to get my hands on that fabric.

Six months later, and no dice. You’ve been bouncing between Earth 928 and whatever dimension suits your fancy since Miguel first brought you here. How you convinced him to hand over one of his fancy bracelets, you’ll never truly know, but you have a distinct feeling the nature of your first meeting was what prompted him to give you access to the multi-verse — along with a slew of rules you more often than not turned your nose up at.

It also probably has something to do with the fact that you didn’t leave Nueva York for the first month. You holed up in the room he provided, ate the food he left by the door, and slept your days away, ignoring the too-bright world outside the windows, content to waste away to nothing. You couldn’t go home, what did it matter anyway?

Enter Miguel O’Hara and his incredibly bite-able ass.

When he first found you on the rooftop, cornered you near the fire escape, you’d gone snarky, despite the rumble in your bones, the betrayal that had cut you to the core, the looming fact that shit had just hit the fan and nothing was ever going to be the same again. 

And then Mister Grumpy steps through a fucking portal and tells you he can save you. He can’t fix what happened, but he can take you somewhere they won’t find you again, a haven of sorts. For a moment, you reeled — how could you know for sure that you could trust him? You almost asked him as much, but then the blanket of realization swept over you: there was nothing left for you on Earth 374. The spider on his chest was clue enough that you were on the right track. Sure, his was bright red on dark blue, whereas your own was navy against slate grey, but the similarities were close enough, namely the giant fucking spider.

The door to the rooftop had jiggled and Miguel swept a hand out, shooting webbing at the handle, keeping it shut. “Clock’s ticking, princesa,” he told you, the nickname said almost tauntingly. “Offer’s about to expire.”

You knew there had to be other spider-people out there in the universe, you just hadn’t imagined them to be so…large.

Or demanding, you’d learn later. Or asshole-ish. Sigh.

“Get me the fuck outta here,” you answered, and that was that. You were standing in his lab in Nueva York a moment later, and the jolt of multi-dimensional travel had you puking your guts all over the glossy floor. Faintly, you’d heard Miguel’s grunt of disdain.

“Lyla, get someone to clean this up,” he said, and his hand curled around your arm a moment later, hauling you to your feet like a rag doll. “You’ll get used to it,” he told you. “The jumping. I did the same thing after my first time.”

You were too out of it to know if he was actually being nice, or if the subtle lift to the corner of his mouth was just amusement at your expense.

“Yeah, well, warn a girl next time, would you?”

But you did get used to it. Once you managed to get your ass out of bed and back into your suit, you were soon away from the Spider Society more than you were there. For the first couple weeks, Miguel hadn’t said a word, apparently content to let you go where you pleased, barely questioning you when you deigned to return. Then, it was like a switch was flipped, and he was up your ass — and not in a fun, sexy way. He wanted reports on each of your jumps, timelines and activity breakdowns. He wanted lists of targets, reasons behind them, background checks. All things you knew he could easily get himself, but you also didn’t have the guts to tell him that since he’d saved you from Earth 374, you hadn’t actually…helped…anyone.

It wasn’t for lack of trying. Your first solo jump you’d managed to find a few bank robberies and a mugging happening within a few blocks of each other. Clearly, you’d picked a gem of a universe, and while you’d managed to web up the bandits in the vault, something in you had frozen when you tried to track down the mugger. The scene unfolded on the street below and you just…shut down.

The rest of your trips were spent just exploring. You swung your way through cities, camped out on rooftops, just watching the normal people go about their lives down below. You noted the differences between that universe and your own, tried to remember where all the puzzle pieces fit, even though you were looking at a different picture.

And it’s that curiosity, that quiet desperation to know more, that has you padding out of your room in the Spider Society tower, overriding the elevator that’ll take you up to Miguel’s lab. His currently empty lab. The man himself has been away on a scouting mission for nearly forty-eight hours, and you’re not expecting him back for another twenty-four, which gives you more than enough time to satisfy that annoying voice in the back of your head that wants to know how they’re doing.

It’s late. The world outside the tower is dark, the sky an inky black, streaked with light shades, dotted with stars. You’d be a fool not to find Earth 928 and Nueva York beautiful in their own strange, overly modern ways, but even six months in, it’s hard to think of it as home.

But you know why. It’s because it’s not. 

You’d lasted a few days before you started glitching, and being cooped up in your room, you assumed you’d be able to hide it from Miguel. Part of you feared that if he knew something was wrong with you, he’d send you back to 374, and then what would happen to you?

You went to sleep worrying it over in your mind, and woke up to a complicated-looking watch sitting on the nightstand beside your bed. A hastily scrawled note stuck to it.

Put it on. It’ll help.

As soon as you did, the device beeped to life, a holographic screen jumping up, telling you the date and time and a myriad of other pieces of information. And then—

“Hiya, toots! I’m Lyla.”

You were confused as hell by the AI at first, but you quickly realized how useful she was, even more knowledgeable than Miguel, not that she’d ever admit it. And, in all honesty, you were a fan of the gab sessions. When Miguel wasn’t working her overtime, she’d beep her way through your watch for a good chat, perch herself on your pillow in the days you were still a shut-in, and when you started to make your way through the multi-verse, she was quick to point out the must-sees wherever you were.

She ran out quickly when she realized you were visiting the same place, just a different universe.

+

The doors to Miguel’s lab whoosh open at your approach, bare feet padding along the glass floor, and as you pause, getting yourself a cup of coffee from the forever-full carafe he keeps far away from the supercomputer, your watch pings to life, and the AI herself glitters into existence.

“What d’you think you’re doing?”

You ignore her at first, fixing your coffee the way you like it, flicking the stir stick into the trash before bringing the cup to your lips. It’s not until you start toward the computer and the large platform that houses it, that you answer her.

“Nothin’.”

She groans. “That’s a load of shit and we both know it.”

“He’s not here,” you say, shrugging a shoulder as you step onto the platform. The screens hum to life as you drag one hand across the infrared keyboard and when you glance over your shoulder, Lyla’s staring at you over the top of her heart-shaped glasses. “What he won’t know won’t hurt him.”

“And you really think doing exactly what he told you not to do is the best idea?”

You sigh, sipping your coffee as you sink into the chair, rolling yourself close to the computers. Miguel rarely uses the chair, apparently content to just stand and stare all broodingly at the screens. You only watched him — caught him — do this once, but when you caught on to what was happening, you filed the information away. He’d given you hell for snooping around, though you teased that he was just pissed you’d managed to sneak up on him, and according to Lyla, nobody does that.

Fingers hovering over the keyboard, you pause. He did tell you, rather specifically, not to do what you’re about to do. He didn’t tell you why, wouldn’t give an inch when you pressed him, but he was firm.

No good will come of it.

+

Earth 473. Not an identical twin to your home universe, but a very close sibling. The differences were so small, so scarce, that you truly thought you’d stumbled back to 374 accidentally, and you’d nearly jumped back to Nueva York, heart in your throat. But then something caught your eye, and you froze.

Across the way, teetering at the edge of the rooftop, was Spider-Man.

His suit was the opposite of yours, the spider grey and the suit navy. You could feel him staring right back at you, even at the distance, and as you stared back, he lifted his hand. For a moment you thought he might wave, your own fingers twitching to return the gesture, but then it continued up, gripping the back of his mask and yanking it from his bed.

You saw his mouth form the words, heard them like a whisper in the air.

“You’re alive.”

Your frozen heart dropped into your toes.

It was Peter. Your Peter, the one you’d left behind on Earth 374, your best friend, the one who…who…

You didn’t have it in you to finish the thought. It was all the evidence you needed to know that this universe was not yours. You were the only Spider-Person on 374, and your Peter wasn’t…he couldn’t…

You’d stumbled backward, blindly grabbing for your watch, suddenly desperate to be back in the SS tower. But then you paused, your fingers twitching on the dials and digits.

And you almost went exactly where you weren’t supposed to. Like a reflex. Shaking yourself, you punched in 928, everything in you twisting and turning as you stepped through the portal.

Miguel was waiting. He’d been watching you, paying close attention to that particular jump, and had used the link through your watch to see what you saw. The opposite-but-mirror image on the rooftop.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, his voice low, that deep timbre that still managed to catch you off guard. “The multi-verse doesn’t work that way.”

“You have no idea what I’m thinking,” you spat back, shrugging off his hand when he tried to grab your arm. “You have no idea what I’m feeling.”

His face had gone feral. Those carmine eyes flaring, staring down his nose at you while you just stared right back, defiant. You went to step past him, and he caught you again, this time his longer fingers wrapping around your forearm, the tell-tale prick of his talons biting through your suit.

“I know a fuck load more than you seem to think,” he snarled, dragging you close to he was in your face. “In case you forgot, I’ve been at this a hell of a lot longer than you have, and what you saw out there, what it means to you, I know exactly where your mind went. And I am telling you: the multi-verse does not work like that.”

“What am I thinking?” you spat back, ignoring the pinpricks of pain that shot through your arm as you got even closer, leaning up on your toes. “If you’re so fucking knowledgeable, tell me.”

He released you, then. The pain in your arm dissipated as quickly as it had come, and his eyes went…soft. Thoughtful.

Sympathetic.

“You’re thinking,” he started, inhaling deeply, rubbing two fingers between his brows as he spoke, “that you could go back there, to 473, and make a life for yourself. The same family, the same friends, the same life. They lost their version of you, so why not fill her shoes? Find some semi-logical explanation, hide your powers, live your life. Am I close?”

You almost stumbled backward, the truth of his words sending you reeling. You bumped into his desk instead, knocking a cup of coffee over, and neither of you said a word as the dark liquid spread across the desktop, dripping off the edge and onto the floor.

Miguel took a half-step toward you, then turned slightly, looking over the curve of his shoulder at you. Something in you longed to press your forehead against his frame, search for some kind of support, but you stayed stuck still.

“I know,” he continued, turning his head, staring straight ahead, “because I did exactly the same thing. And I lost everything.”

+

His words echo through your mind now, the deep tone you’ve gotten very familiar with, and you shake your head, clearing away the cobwebs he’s left in your head. “This is different,” you say aloud, partially to Lyla, partially to yourself. “I’m not going there, I’m just…checking in.”

The AI rolls her eyes at you and snaps her gum. “I said it once and I’ll say it again: load of shit.”

Your fingers fly over the keyboard, typing in the codes to find what you’re looking for. You haven’t been back to 473 since that jump; Miguel had forbade it after your spat, and even went so far as to block your watch from taking you there. You thought he was being unreasonable, and he reiterated that he was actually trying to keep you safe.

No good will come of it.

You hit the final key, and the images start to fade in. You can just barely make out the shape of her — of you — when the screens go black. Your breath catches in your throat as a large hand comes down on your shoulder, gripping tightly, though you don’t feel the pricks of his talons.

“Do you get off on disobeying me?”

The words are almost a purr, the opposite of the tone you’re expecting, and from the corner of your eye, you see Lyla blip from existence. It makes goosebumps rise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck standing on end as he leans in, hot breath on your ear.

“If I make you cum, will that make you more obedient? Hm?”

“What the fu—” you start, trying to whirl around, but his grip on you is solid, warm palm following the curve of your shoulder until his fingers are wrapping themselves around your throat. It’s a welcome weight, sparks of electricity shooting down your limbs, your thighs rubbing together to relieve the instant pressure. “Mmm.”

His thumb presses down on your racing pulse, and you’re suddenly aware of how warm he is. He’s…too warm. But you have to admit, the way he’s holding you…it’s nice. Really nice.

“Miguel,” you start, trying to turn again, but he fits his face into the bare side of your neck, lips grazing the thin skin. “You’re not supposed to be back yet.”

“Mission went south,” he mumbles against you, his tongue darting past his lips and dragging along your skin. It makes your eyes roll back, but…

Where is this coming from?

He should be furious with you. He caught you red-handed, no questions about it. You weren’t expecting him to find you in the first place, but now that he has, you’re expecting a screaming match, toddler-level foot-stomping and possibly being thrown over his ridiculously large shoulder and being tossed into your room like a rag doll. Locked up like Rapunzel until you start listening to his brand of reasoning. You’re expecting a blowout.

You’re not expecting this.

He huffs in your ear as his lips graze the sensitive skin beneath it, his words spoken into the shell, tongue catching on your earring. “You smell delicious, cariño.”

The pet name makes you shiver. “Mig,” you say again, your hand covering his as his other arm wraps around your middle, pulling you back against his chest. “What are you doing?”

His heart is racing, so hard that you can feel the heavy thump of it against your spine. It’s too fast, even for him, you know that much. His fingers curl against your stomach, talons poking out and shredding your shirt to strips. You gasp as the fabric falls away.

“Miguel.” You make your voice as stern as possible. It’s not that you don’t want him to touch you like this, it just seems so sudden, so out of character, and you—

He wrenches himself away from you, the heady warmth of him suddenly gone, and you whirl, hand flying up to grip your neck as the sound of him crashing into the wall reaches your ears. His fingers are leaving indents in the metal, talons scratching deep, and you gulp as you realize you’re lucky he didn’t just accidentally slit your throat.

Whatever’s happening, he’s not himself.

“Mig,” you call, wiping your bloody hand on your sweats, crossing the distance he’s put between you. “Would you just talk t—”

“NO!” he roars, throwing a hand out in front of himself. You can see his large frame shake as he sinks down against the wall, long tears in the metal forming in his wake. “Keep your distance.”

Your brow lifts. “Says the man who was literally crawling up my ass three seconds ago.” You ignore him, taking another step, ignoring the way his words ring through your head. Do you get off on disobeying me?

Yeah…maybe you do. Just a little bit.

You crouch down low, getting on his level. “Mig, tell me what happened.”

“Don’t call me that,” he spits, staring you down for a moment before forcing his head to the side, an action that looks like it takes a lot of effort. “Just…go to your room, leave me be.”

“You telling me not to call you that just makes me wanna call you that more.” You shift onto your knees, inching a little closer. “I can’t leave you be, not when you just put a bunch of holes in the wall,” you lift your hand to your throat, where the scratches he left are already almost gone, “and almost in me. Tell me what happened.”

He tilts his head back against the wall, still turned away from you, one crimson eye looking your way. “Mierda, you’re stubborn.”

You roll your eyes. “Like you didn’t know that already. Talk.”

“Earth 1365-7,” he starts, eyes fluttering shut. His eyelashes are unfair, you think to yourself, the way they fan out across his even more unfair cheekbones. “I ended up in their version of OSCORP, some testing centre. Different serums and gases and…they were trying to weaponize a kind of paralytic that’s found in certain spider venom.”

His tongue pokes out after he says the word venom, tracing the tips of his fangs, and you swallow hard.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

You shake your head, silencing the thought.

“And you stopped them?” you prompt, when he doesn’t go further, instead inhaling deeply and scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I did,” he tells you, but there’s no trace of triumph in his voice or on his face. “But I stumbled into one of the other labs, and as soon as I did…” He trails off, body shifting against the floor, and it’s impossible to miss the ripple in his skin-tight suit, the way he props one knee up, blocking your view of his crotch. “It was some sort of plant that they’d been researching. The pollen, it raises a person’s heart rate, skyrockets it, and muddles their senses. If left untreated, it can kill them.”

You stare at him hard. “What’s the treatment, Miguel?”

“The side effects,” he continues, ignoring your question. “Heightened blood pressure, extremely sensitive skin, lowered inhibitions, and…”

“Mig, would you just tell me?”

“Arousal,” he finishes, and you freeze. “Intense arousal. I didn’t mean to jump on you like that, I just…The only way to treat it is to…”

He doesn’t say it out loud, but the implication is clear, along with the intense reminder of how he was pressed against you.

You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, shrugging a shoulder, trying like hell to look non-committal, like your skin isn’t still tingling in all the places he touched you. “Lowered inhibitions, like you said.”

He doesn’t say anything so much as hum in response, his head lolling to the side again. His eyes are fire when they open again, landing on you and pinning you in place. It makes your breath hitch again, palms lowering to rest on your thighs.

“You need to get out of here, cariño,” he murmurs, his voice low, husky, fingers tapping against his bent knee. “I need to deal with this.”

You’ve inched a bit closer to him, you realize, your traitorous body giving you away.

“How are you gonna deal with it?” you ask, barely above a whisper. Every inch of you is tingling now, not just the places he touched, and the way he tilts his head back again and groans is not helping matters. “Maybe I should…help.”

His eyes flash to you, pools of red, pupils blown big as dinner plates. “You want to…help.”

“You said this could kill you,” you continue, leaning forward until your palms hit the floor. “Someone should…keep an eye on you, y’know. Make sure you…y’know, don’t.”

“How articulate of you.”

“Fuck off.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and rumbly, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders shake even after the laughter has stopped. His breathing is shaky too, you can hear it from where you’re crouched. Worry threads through the lust that’s seemingly replaced your blood, and you slide even closer to him, until there’s maybe two feet between you.

“I don’t want you to die.” The words hang heavy in the air and the truth of them twists your guts. Stubborn ass he may be, but he’s done nothing but protect you since he found you back on Earth 374. You…care. You care a lot.

“Lyla can keep an eye on me,” he spits, but you just get closer.

“So she can wipe her hard drive and clean her eyes with soap afterward?” you joke. “I can’t leave you like this, Mig. Can AIs even use soap?”

“Don’t call me that,” he says again.

“Let me help you,” you say, the words coming easier, firmer. “You know that I can.”

You close the distance completely, your knees bumping the side of his thigh and your hand covering his on the floor. The fabric of his suit recedes, revealing his hands, and your fingers brush over his knuckles. “I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” you tell him, leaning back on your heels, lifting your other hand to pull his bent knee straight. “You need help, and I’m offering it.”

He groans again.

“I’ve owed you, this whole time,” you continue, resting your hand on his shin as his leg rests on the floor. It takes everything in you not to let your eyes wander up to the space between his hips, but you manage. “You saved my life; let me save yours.”

The spider made you strong, made you fast, but Miguel…He’s so large, so imposing, and the moment his hands land on your body, you know he’s been holding back from you.

He maneuvers you into his lap, your knees resting against his hips. In an instant you can feel him, the hard prod of his cock against your cunt, separated only by the thin fabric of your pants and the rippling material of his suit. Miguel groans as he fits his face into your neck, talons pressing into your hips as the suit melts away, every inch of his golden skin suddenly on display. It’s overwhelming and your blood heats, unable to bite back the moan that slips free when he pulls your hips against his, the pressure between you exactly what you need it to be.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” he grits out, his hips lifting off the floor as he chases your body, as you chase each other. “This is just…”

“I’m helping,” you breathe out, your hands curling around his shoulders as you settle into his lap. Well, not so much as settle as twitch, the fabric of your shirt riding up as his hands move up your sides, curling around your ribs. “This is only about keeping you alive.”

“Alive,” he repeats, and you bite your lip, feeling his fingers curl into your shirt. “You have no fucking idea how…”

“God, shut up,” you groan, gripping his face in your hands, claiming his mouth for your own. The sound of tearing fabric reaches your ears as your lips meet his and he growls at you, shredding your shirt and tossing the fabric away, leaving you bare from the waist up. His hands drop to your ass then, tugging at your pants and you bite his bottom lip. “You could just ask nicely, you know.”

He just grunts in response, effectively splitting the elastic band and pulling the rest of your clothes away. You’re completely naked now, perched in his lap, and your skin heats in every spot you’re pressed to him. Which is basically everywhere. “I’ll get you new ones,” he grits, and you roll your eyes, biting at his lip again. 

There’s little ceremony to it. Miguel drags you along him a few times, the feel of him prodding between your legs lighting a fire in you. You can feel how big he is, but you busy yourself with his mouth, your knees pressing against his hips. One of his hands skims down your back, curving around your hip and sliding two fingers through your folds. It makes you keen, a moan ripping from your throat when he presses those fingers into you.

“Wet,” he grunts against your mouth, his breath stuttering as you clench around his digits. You rock your hips into his hand, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging until his head tips back.

“Take what you need,” you say, and for once, he listens to you.

The feeling of his fingers pulling out leaves you aching, but you’re not left waiting for long. He presses against the small of your back, tilting your hips, and then he’s inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. The sheer fullness that sweeps through you is almost too overwhelming, and your breath whooshes out of you as your chest slams into his. You can feel the way his heart is racing, the rapid thump beneath his sternum nearly vibrating against your own.

This doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, circling your hips as he plants his feet, bends his knees. He holds you up slightly, giving just enough space between you for him to thrust up into you, hitting a spot that makes you see stars. This is just…helping. I’m just being helpful.

You’re just…quickly reaching the most intense orgasm you’ve had in a hot second.

He keeps hammering into that same spot, the lab filling with the sound of his skin on yours, your panting breaths, and Miguel’s grunts. It’s fucking euphoric, your head falling back between your shoulders. “Mig, I—”

“Not yet,” he growls, and suddenly you’re being lifted, the heavy weight of him still pressed inside you. Your grip on each other is firm, and Miguel moves quickly, sweeping you out of the lab and through the door that leads to his room. You barely get a breath in before your back hits his mattress and he’s towering over you, his big hands curled around your thighs, kneeling so he can prop your ass up. The angle lets him drive deeper and you throw your arms over your head, curling your fingers in his bedsheets, trying to find some leverage.

One of his hands moves over you, palm grazing your stomach before moving down. He thumbs at your clit, dragging another moan out of you, his brow going hard. You have a better look at his face now, his expression pinched, eyes trained on where he’s pounding into you. His skin is damp with sweat, a sheen on his forehead, his mouth hanging open. You swear you can see his pulse jumping in his throat.

“Want you to cum, princesa,” he nearly begs, and the hitch in his voice makes goosebumps rise all over your body. “So. Fucking. Tight.” He punctuates each word with a deep thrust and everything in you goes impossibly tighter.

“This is about you,” you pant out, clawing at his sheets. “I don’t need—”

But you do. You really fucking do, but something about admitting that to him right here and now feels…wrong. It twists your gut in a not-so-fun way.

“I don’t care, I need you to cum,” he growls, releasing his grip on your thigh to grab at your chin, forcing your eyes on his. “Now.”

Suddenly, your body is not your own. It responds instantly to his command, a string threading your muscles drawing tight as a bow before snapping entirely. Your back arches against the mattress, so hard it just brings you closer to him and Miguel drops his head, dragging his nose up the middle of your chest. It courses through your entire body, your hips lifting entirely off the bed to chase him, to keep him buried within you.

He groans as you cum, the sound the only thing you’re aware of besides the pleasure setting your body on fire. There’s a ringing in your ears, your muscles going lax as you start to come down, but he doesn’t stop. One of your hands floats to his hair, tangling the sweat-damp strands around your knuckles and you can feel his growl shake your ribs.

“More,” he grits, raking his hands down your sides, gripping your hips again. You inhale sharply as his head turns, skirting across your chest to take your nipple between his lips. The pace is relentless, your body growing tight again with his movements. He’s playing you like a fucking fiddle, and you’re the first to admit you’re loving every second of it.

You manage to open your eyes, the pleasure receding just enough for you to regain some of your faculties.

He’s staring right back.

It makes you flinch, jolting in his grasp as his lips draw back, revealing one pointed fang. You shiver as he drags the tip of it around your nipple.

“Again.”

And again, your body obeys. This time it sneaks up on you more than barrels through you, making you throw your head back against the mattress. “Fuck, Miguel.” Your nails dig against his scalp, tugging at his hair, revelling in the noise it pulls out of him. You want to record it, put it on repeat, set it as your fucking ringtone. How the fuck is he doing this? This was supposed to be about him.

Not that you’re not enjoying yourself. Quite the opposite.

He’s still staring at you, peering up at you from where he’s bent against your chest. There’s something in those ridiculous eyes, something you have no name for, and you force your eyes away, moving them down his body, to where you can see him still driving into your cunt, the length of him slick with you. The sight alone makes you clench, and when you do, he curses under his breath.

“Where…?” he grits, the hoarseness in his voice drawing your eyes back up to his face.

He looks like he’s in pain. Your heart twists in your chest at the sight, reaching up to swipe your hand across his sweaty forehead. “Does it hurt?”

“I need…” He trails off, leaning into your touch, turning his head and nipping at your wrist, at your pulse. “Where can I…?”

“Wherever you want,” you pant, gasping as he drives as deep as inhumanly possible, moving you further up the bed. “Whatever you need to—”

You’re cut off by the roar that echoes through the room. He buries his face in your neck as it happens, most of his weight dropping onto you, hips pinning yours to the bed, chest pressed to yours. He pulls out at the last second, cock sliding through the hinge of your thigh, cum spurting hot against your stomach. He doesn’t seem to care about the mess he’s making of you both, his entire body covering yours as he shudders his way through it.

It feels like it lasts forever. His limbs go taut and then loose, his breath quickening and then slowing against the shell of your ear. You don’t know what else to do except hold him through it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, one hand finding his hair once more. It’s like his release is chasing the pollen from his system, his superhuman body returning to his brand of normal. He babbles through some of it, grunts and moans and something that sounds almost like your name murmured in your ear.

You just hold him.

Eventually, he seems to come back to himself. You’re loathe to admit you’re revelling in the feel of him against you, the way his hands are tangled in your hair against his pillows. The weight of him is…it’s nice. It’s really fucking nice.

It’s too nice.

You wait a few minutes, wait for him to find his bearings, to peel himself away from you, but it never comes. He’s a solid weight on top of you, and while you’ve been listening to his erratic breathing, waiting for it to even out, you realize that it’s gone…slow. He’s asleep.

“Mig,” you murmur, barely above a whisper, tugging softly at his hair. Nothing. Not so much as a twitch. He’s dead to the world, his slow breaths turning to quiet snores in your ear. Carefully, inch by inch, you slide your way out from under him. You freeze when he rolls onto his side, his breath hitching for a moment, but it evens out again and you slip off the edge of his bed.

Your clothes are toast, the shreds of fabric scattered on the floor of the lab, so you slip into his closet, finding a t-shirt that’s way too big for you. You definitely don’t inhale the scent that clings to it as you slip it over your head.

Your steps are quiet as you pad back into his bedroom, leaned up on your toes as you peer at him. Still asleep, hasn’t so much as moved from the spot you left him. You draw closer, your fingers curled around the hem of his t-shirt.

He doesn’t move an inch as you reach for his wrist, easily slipping the watch off his wrist and replacing it with your own. The too-big band of his adjusts to your size as you close the latch around your wrist, turn on your heel, and scurry from the room, through the lab, shooting a web up at the ceiling and launching yourself up to the next floor, the level your room is on.

You don’t make a sound as you pack your bag, reluctantly shrugging out of Miguel’s t-shirt to put your suit on, stuffing it into your bag with handfuls of clothes, whatever random shit your muddled mind has decided you need to take with you.

It felt too nice.

You know what would happen, you’ve decided, if you stay. You’d drift off, there in his bed, enveloped by his broad frame, half-drunk off the scent of him. You’d get the best sleep of your life, and when you woke the next morning, he’d be there, staring down his nose at you, the desperate man that had pulled pleasure from your body like it was his damn day job replaced with the grumpy fuck that plucked your last nerve like a guitar string.

The problem was that you knew exactly what he’d say to you:

This doesn’t mean anything.

The problem is that you’ve grown to care too much for him, grumpy, desperate, and all things in between.

Lyla makes an appearance as you sling your bag over your shoulder, keying in the universe you want to jump to, Miguel’s watch not locked out the same way yours is. “You really think that’s a good idea?”

You lift a brow as she cocks her digital hip at you. “You want me to answer that? So you can tell me I’m full of shit?”

“Ideally, yes.”

“Can AIs make promises?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “Technically speaking.”

“Don’t tell him where I am,” you ask, pleading. “Please?”

“He’ll find out anyway,” she tells you, shaking her head, heart-shaped glasses slipping down her nose. Her eyes are big as she stares at you over the rims. “He’s smarter than you give him credit for. I know he’s a grumpy asshole ninety-nine percent of the time, but he—”

“Lyla, please.”

She sighs, sliding the glasses back up. “He won’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you.”

The portal crackles to life, that familiar tug in your stomach as you step toward it. Lyla fades from view as you take another step, and you ignore the echo of Miguel’s voice calling your name, and step through completely.

[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.”

[especiallythewomenandthechildren]

As If Destiny (part four) 🌹

Part Three🌹🌹🌹

Summary: You've always been kind hearted yet admirably defiant. Or that is at least one of the ways Coriolanus Snow would describe you. Ever since grade school, you have always been on the same level as him in academics and one of his few competitors for the Plinth Prize. But as tragedy struck your family, Coriolanus thought you would fall away from his life, but instead, you got even more intertwined (not to mention the complicated past knots tying your families together).

Warnings: Terminal illness, parent death, death and brutality (it is the hunger games after all) characters may be ooc. I read the book a while ago but don't really remember much of Snows way of thinking (I mean I know its toxic and insane but yk the other things) so I will mostly be basing off the film and my own thoughts. Also I can't spell for the life of me so be prepared for bad spelling and grammar. Also, this is going to be a LONG series with a lot of parts, so strap in! Enjoy loves!

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Coriolanus led the way, past the broken elevator, and up the ancient stairs. He let you go ahead of him in the stairwell, letting you know which ones to skip as they are quite shaky and might cave in. He felt embarrassed that even the stairs informing of his financial state but you didn't mind. In fact, while you both were going up the 12 flights of stairs, you were giggling and enjoying the jumps up the stairs.

The boy was so lost in the sight of your toothy smile and little looks back in his direction that he almost missed his floor. Opening the door leading into the hallway brought forward the smell of dust and mold, something his nose has gotten far too acustomed to. You looked around in fascination, touching the decaying blue and silver wall paper. It was beautiful, even after all the destruction it witnessed. If this was simply the hallway, you were sure his actual aprtment was stunning, no matter how sparse and empty it may be.

After a few steps, he reached a chipped white door and pulled out his keys. The heir to the house felt his hands shake as he pushed the key through the hole. With a deep breath, he opened up the door.

The first thing that was noticeable, much to Coriolanus's dismay, was the smell of cabbage. The fervent smell and the noise of movement alerted him that Tigris was still up. His assumption was confirmed a few seconds later with the appearance of his cousin. "Coryo! You've been gone for so long, I was getting so worried where have you-" the rest of her words died on her tounge as she noticed your head pop out behind her cousins shoulders.

You gave her a kind and slightly embarrassed smile, reaching out your hand in greeting. She returned the gesture, albeit hesitantly as she was still in shock and in the depths of confusion. "Hello, you must be Tigris! All my friends rave about your fashion ability and they certainly aren't wrong. Your nightgown is stunning did you make it?" Tigris couldn't help but laugh and blush at your genuine compliments and curiosity. She nodded and held it our for you to inspect. The champagne color was embroidered with what seemed like endless silver flowers and the cut and flow fit her perfectly.

Coriolanus stood back, leaning against a wall watching you both in deep conversation about style and it's meaning and topics he could never, as much as he tried, be as versed as his cousin and seemingly, you. A smile appeared on his face seeing you get along with his cousin so well. He wondered how his grandma'am would think of you; the thought making him blush. Then it hit him that she is going to meet you in the morning, making the blush on his pale skin turn a deep crimson.

Tigris stole a quick glance towards her younger cousin and even in the dim lighting, she could see his flush all too well. She then remembered that she never asked why in the world her teenage cousin brought a pretty girl in the late hours of the night. She didn't even get your name. "I'm sorry, it seemed we got too caught up in conversation that I didn't even get your name!" You had a blush yourself in embarrassment.

Here you are, certainly in the a.m hours, invading her home and you didn't even let her know who you were. "Y/N Vaun. I am so sorry for interrupting your peace. Coryo was kind enough to offer me a place to rest tonight due to uhm personal issues at home." You say the last part quickly and in a hushed tone. The older girl gives you a warm and bright smile and welcomes you into her home. "Well let me get you something more comfortable." she gestures to your uniform that you have been wearing for nearly 24 hours.

It may not have been the most comfortable clothing, but you didn't wish to cause even more commotion for the Snow household. You stand up to kindly refuse Tigris's action but Coryo quickly interjects and stands in front of you, blocking your path. "You are our guest y/n, please stop arguing" He pleads with you. "I didn't even open my mouth!" He gives you a look, you both fully knowing you were going to.

"Where am I going to sleep?" You ask looking around and spot the small worn sofa in the small living space. Your thoughts were all over your face and caused a groan, paired with a dramatic eye roll from Coriolanus. "You are a guest, I'm not making you sleep on the couch!" You knew what he meant but it was always fun to tease the boy. "You aren't making me, don't worry!" With a rough sigh, he put his head in his hands, seemingly exhausted.

"Are you like this when you go to the Plinths?" He asks teasingly. The question made you go stiff a little, something he noticed because, of course he did. "Well, I've actually never slept over there. It's bad enough they have to constantly feed me, I am not their responsibility." Coriolanus thought over your words before responding with a question he had been carrying the entirety of your walk here.

"Do you always see every gesture of kindness as a debt to be paid? If so, you must be owed dozens of debts." You blushed at his targeted question at your philosophy and the compliment tagged on at the end. You felt flattered before you realized the hypocrisy of his words.

"Oh you're one to talk Coryo! Remember when I shared with you my chocolate truffles ONCE at lunch and you seemed to be trying to paying me back with gestures and favors for weeks!" He stared at you like a deer in headlights. oh how he wished you had forgotten. He remembered that day crystal clear. Not because the truffles (which apparently 11 year old you was a master baker even then) were the best he has ever had, but because of you took over his thoughts for weeks after.

He remembered taking notes of all the little things you liked and habits, trying to find the perfect opportunities to get closer and somehow, even if not materially, pay you back for your kindness. "Ah, so it was you! I knew I heard your name somewhere before!" Tigris (of all the times she could have appeared) emerged from her room holding up a deep green night gown with black detailing.

You looked from her to Coriolanus in confusion and were met with him staring way too intensely at the dusty floor. Tigris observed both of your actions and emotions, noting your confusion and her cousins embarrassment. Oh she was going to have so much fun teasing him as soon as you were out of earshot. She gestured the sleepwear and beckoned for you to get changed in the small bathroom.

You took the fabric out of her hands and was simply amazed. You had many friends and close ones at that, but all the emotions and kindness you were treated with tonight crashed at once. You looked up at the taller woman with glossy eyes. "Thank you." You turned your head to say the same to the boy who brought you here, but he simply put a hand up, putting an end to yet another parade of thanks.

As soon as Tigris heard the sound of you locking the cold bathroom door, she turned to the boy she considered a brother with a smirk. But he wasn't in the main foyer anymore but rather, rushed to the kitchen and was opening up the window. Enough to get the smell of cabbage and dust out and the smell of blossoming flowers of the Capital in. She couldn't help but laugh. "So am I going to get an explanation or do I have to assume what a teenager is doing bringing a girl that beautiful at this hour?"

"Her mother is suffering with illness Tigris. Its been taking a toll on y/n too. She doesn't sleep at night and I thought she might have a better chance getting a good rest if she was away from all the chaos. So I brought her here if you and grandma'am don't mind." Tigris looked at her cousin, a proud smile on her face. She wiped her hands on a worn towel and moved in to give him a loving hug.

Coryo got the message of his cousin quite clearly and suddenly as he looked as if he were going to faint from embarrassment. He looked around as if you were in the walls listening in. "Shhh! Tigris! Ugh- what no- Tigris!" Oh he was so flustered. She went back to cleaning the few dishes in the sink, the activity she must have been doing before your entrance. Coriolanus knew she was waiting for an explanation but he didn't want to expose your situation and lose any trust, especially with the amount of trust he put in you.

"I'm so proud of you Coryo. I know your mother would be too. Her son being a pillar of good, no matter the situation." He smiled shyly and bittersweetly at the thought of his late mother. Would she think of him like that? What would she think of you?

Tigris snuck a glance at the boy and noticed his small grin and blush and nudged him with his shoulder. "No funny buisness, I want to sleep without being traumatized." The look of horror once again crossed his face and was ready to stammer out opposition to Tigris's thoughts when he heard the bathroom door creak open.

You stepped out, wrapped in the nightgown, the long and flowy cut making you look like true royalty. You also took your hair our of your updo and let it flow down. How is it possible something so beautiful could be standing in his rundown apartment. The thought seemed to have Coriolanus paralyzed until you seemed to shrink under his gaze.

Tigris giggled at just how easily you made her ever pristine and charming cousin flustered. She threw some water off her fingers into his face to snap him out of his daze, which worked much to his dismay and your entertainment. Tigris walked out of the kitchen and into the direction of her room. As she passed you, she whispered "you look beautiful y/n" with a sweet and supporting smile that you returned.

She bid you both good night as she walked out of sight behind the corner of the hallway, leaving you both behind looking anywhere but eachother. Coriolanus realized he should probably be the one to do something considering this was his home and such. He cleared his throat and motioned for you to follow him. You followed him with your uniform neatly folded as he reached his room.

Your breath was shaky as you exhaled realizing you were in his room. You were going to sleep in his room. To say you were red would be an understatement. You were too busy scanning around his room to notice him quickly trying to clean up the little messes littered over his room in his ever constant rush. You noticed his corner window and walked over, having to kneel on his bed to get the full view.

Even though it was pitch black nightime outside, the street lights were enough to lumminate the small white flowers blooming on the trees. Rows and rows of the trees seemed to be lined up straight outside his window. It must be absolutely radiant in the morning.

You turned back to him, watching him move around the small room. "Tigris is so beautiful and kind. You must be very proud of her." Your words made him feel somehow even happier. He nodded in agreement. He did everything for her and Grandma'am, but especially for Tigris. She sacrificed her entire life for him and raised him really on her own. If he ever for a second doubted his abilites or how much longer he can keep up his façade, he remebers his cousins sweet smile.

Coriolanus was still trying to clean up his room and you offered to help, but he quickly declined your offer, saying you should rest.

"You still never told me where you are going to sleep" He turns around and sees your eyes, deep in concern and wonder. how do your eyes look like in the morning? "I think the sofa will be fine, you can take the bed. Please" He tried to plead with you as he grabbed his night clothes, fine but worn set of silky pajamas. "You can't expect to say I am not allowed to sleep there while I am here taking over your room!"

He sighed, shaking his head. Why won't you just let him be chivalrous? He never knew how determined or persistent you were about such simple topics and wished to never be on this side of the battle ever again. "Please y/n, make yourself at home. I'm going to change, you better be asleep when I come back." He left his room too quickly to see your pout and eye roll in disagreement.

You let your hands feel the thin sheets as you try to find some way to still let Coryo get a comfortable sleep. Your eyes land on his desk in your exploration and you take note of the objects on it.

Somehow, in your scan of your room, you missed the pictures and knickknacks. One seemed to show his mother and a baby version of the ever charming teenager. It made you smile, he had such chubby cheeks and an adorable gummy smile. Another seemed to show toddler Coryo being babied by little Tigris, who seemed more than happy to care for him. It made you laugh, you don't remember him ever being like the boy in the pictures, even when you were that age in class with him.

You didn't wish to touch any of his things without his permission so you just scooted closer. You noticed a beautiful silver compact that shimmered under the desk lamp that was lit. It looked like an antique, the type before the war. It must have been his mother's you assumed. In your analyzation of the compact and other items littering his small desk, you didn't realize how close you had gotten and your foot accidentally harshly hit the container underneath the desk.

Small powder came out, causing you to begin coughing. You look downwards to the container and read the alarming words "RAT POISON". Your coughing began to escalate in panic. In your panic and attack of coughs, you didn't realize two strong arms pull you away from the area. You coughed a little bit more before your face was turned upwards to a pair of such beautiful blue eyes.

You turned your face as the last of your shaky coughs came out, leaving you shaken and face hot and crimson.

"I'm so sorry Coryo, I am such an idiot!" He quickly shushed you and assured you that you were nothing of the sort. "It's okay, you were just a bit distracted, I should have moved the container anyways, it's my fault." Wait how did he know that you were too distracted to notice the substance?

Clearly the deadly poison wasn't the only thing you didn't notice. Coriolanus dressed quickly and he noticed the light in his room still on and was ready to chastise you on not taking your ever needed moments of sleep. But then he noticed how memsmorized you were by the photos and objects on his desk. He relished in your subtle smile and little giggle, albeit be at younger him. The moment he saw the pale substance flow through the air however, his breathing became as shallow as if he himself inhaled it.

But as everything calmed down, he noticed how much your lack of sleep has hit you once more. He moved you over to his bed and you comfortably settled under the sheets.

He turned off the light, quietly grabbing an extra pillow and blanket and began walking out towards direction of the stiff sofa. "Wait Coryo!" You said, sleep slurring your syllables. He turned around in concern that something may be wrong. You offered him a shy smile, hesitant to ask. "Could you sleep here, I don't think I am to be trusted alone right now" you laugh the last part. You felt quite foolish. He has done so much and here you are asking him to sleep on his cold floor while you are resting in his bed.

But he seems to pay no mind. He responds with a giddy smile and throws the pillow down and lays softly next to his bed. Next to you. You mumble a thank you, to which he repaonds with a contempt "mhm". With the smell of roses, which seemed to be radiating from his pillow and sheets, you are quickly enveloped by sleep. Hearing your deep and peaceful breathing, Coriolanus doesn't take long to follow suit, with a smile of contemptment on his face. A smile quite rare in the small and shabby apartment. But tonight, it felt like a palace.

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The sunlight lit up the room when Coriolanus woke up. He took a second to question why he was on the floor. He was about to panic when he remembered the events of last night, bringing a certain type of joy to the blonde. He then heard the sounding of pen on paper, furiously writing. He popped his head up from his pillow and sat up, looking towards your very awake and focused figure. You were leaning against the wired headboard of his bed, with that ever growing pile of paper next to you.

"Please tell me you are sleepwriting" His voice, especially his morning voice (something you never imagined for the proper Coriolanus Snow. But you weren't complaining. Oh no. Not in the slightest) broke you out of your daze. You didn't look up as wrote the final letters of your hard researched and written paper. "Well don't you know that you are never supposed to wake someone up when they do that?" You teased, a bright smile on your face as you looked up.

The color was back in your face and your missed bubbly energy was back. With those factors, the sunlight, and your natural radiance, Coriolanus could not belive his eyes. If this was some sick dream, he wished to never wake up.

You turn your eyes from the messy haired boy (something you didn't even know was possible, his ever proper hair messy and how you could stop looking at how good it looked like this) and out the window. When you first woke up, the sun was still rising and you wished to finish your assignment before Coryo woke up and you went to the academy. So you didn't get to bask in the beautiful sight before you untill now. The street lights did not do the delicate white flowers justice. The sun hit them so perfectly they didn't seem real, they were so perfect. The same thought was running through Coriolanus's mind but he was most certainly not thinking about the flowers.

He got up and dusted off himself and offered you a hand. You took it happily and as soon as you stood up, the sound of your stomach grumbling was quite loud in the peaceful silence. You giggled in unease about the sudden noise while Coriolanus felt a little ashamed knowing he didn't have much to settle your hunger. You looked up at him and noticed the look in his eyes. "Hey, don't worry! I was planning on getting us all some breakfast anyways but I just wanted you to wake up first so you don't think I just up and left".

He looked at you with great appreciation because he would have definitely thought you were too embarrassed to stay the night. But looking at your cheerful face, you seemed anything but. "You know you don't have to do that y/n. You don't us anything." You nodded along, grabbing your uniform and heading towards the bathroom. "I'm not doing this as a debt, I'm doing this as a thank you." You tell him as you close the door.

He sighs but was surprised when you opened the door just a second after closing it. "Plus, I still want to talk to Tirgis more!" That made him sincerely laugh. Sometimes he has done a lot these past number of hours with you. More than he has in a long while. The blonde rushes to quickly change into his own uniform to accompany you. He isn't sure if you remember the direction of his apartment and stores, so it would be best if he went along as a guide. Plus it wouldn't hurt to spend as much time with you before your peaceful moments would be shattered with your attendance to the rush of the academy.

He looked in the small and rusting mirror in his room, just now noticing his messy hair. He doesn't get to perfect his curls when he hears the unblocking of the bathroom door, informing him of your readiness. He meets you out by the main entrance as you are putting on your clean and pretty shoes. You look up with a sideways smile and don't question his presence. He was a gentleman after all (you also had no idea your way around these parts).

Once you both were ready, he opened up the door, offering you his arm and you were out to conquer your little adventure.

You both were basking in the sunlight as you reached a quaint little bakery. You can smell the delicious pastries from outside causing you and Coryo to share a look. You drag him inside and take a look around. "What ever you think Grandma'am and Tigris would like, please get it! And don't you dare try to hold back. If you don't get what you want, I will." Your little threat was made loud and clear to Snow as he put his hands up in mock surrender. He did feel guilty because you were paying (his pride hated every second that you were spending on him and not the other way around).

He knows his grandmothers love for chocolate so he picked out multiple pastries of the flavor and some fruit ones for Tigris. The red velvet flavor and white coating of a certain sweet drew Coriolanus in and was something he hasn't tasted in years, the thought of it making his mouth water already. He ordered and looked over to where he last saw you, in which you were observing the vintage photos on the wall.

But you weren't there. The shop wasn't very large and he couldn't see you anywhere. He began to panic to where you could have gone when the small bell above the door rang and you appeared with a small violet box in your hands. "Sorry, saw something across the street and had to get it!" You apologize to your friend and quickly pay for the delicacies he chose. You both walked out and into his apartment with several boxes each, nearly up to your chins. Coriolanus repeated how unnecessary all of it was but you kept on shushing him everytime he brought it up. You with your fill of sleep was so different. He missed it.

When you made it back, Tigris seemed to just have woken up as she was rubbing off her sleep. Although, when the smell of the pastries hit her nose, all thoughts turned into hunger. You bid her a very chipper "Morning!", a tone quite different from the shy girl she met last night. "I'm going to check up on Grandma'am, you guys can set everything up!"

The excitement was clear in her voice and movement, a pep filled walked to her dear grandmothers room. You smile at her emotion, causing a chain reaction that leads to Coriolanus own grin. You both set up the table while speaking cheerfully about small details of your life. Coriolanus was trying to remember the last time in his life he had such a cheery morning with a proper breakfast.

Then the last piece left of his family walks in. He walks over and place a delicate kiss on his grandma'ams cheeks and walks back to introduce you. You dust off your hands nervously and go to shake her hand when she looks as if she is going to break into tears.

"Cloria? Oh, Cloria! You look stunning as ever!" The elderly woman ignores your hand and moves in to hug you. You are shocked by the movement but even more by the name she called you by. You look to her grandson in worry. Should you inform her that you aren't Cloria, but in fact her daughter? How did she know your mother? But he looked as confused as you.

She pulled back from the embrace, yet held onto your arms. She moved then upward to your face, turning it this way and that. "Oh Cloria, how I've missed you!" You smiled in confusion, having absolutely no clue what to respond. Then she seems to notice Coriolanus's presence for the first time. "Crassus! Why didn't you tell me Cloria was back!". The look of baffelment on Coryos face was drained of all emotion as he was paralyzed by his Grandma'ams mistake. Her dementia has been worsening for a while now, but never once has she called him his father's name. You were both unsure what to do but you took action. Softly you stepped back, offering your hand once more. "Thank you for your kind words, but Cloria is actually my mother. I'm her daughter y/n".

Her timeworn eyes rake over you, taking you in for the first time. Questions seemed laced in her voice and face. "Daughter? Who is your father?" Her tone was icy and a bit void.

Uncertainty was present in your own response. "Tyre Vaun, mam" The little gasp and step back to his name made you feel as if you just slapped the elderly woman. You looked up, searching for help in the comforting blue eyes of her grandson. "Grandma'am?" He asked and her astonished stare switched from you to his towering frame. Then she seemed to notice him, for the first time as well. "Coriolanus? Since when have you been here?".

His frustration by her actions and lapse of memories was caught off by the entrance of Tirgis, now changed into a beautiful brown and white set. She took in the air of confusion but knew of her grandmothers odd behavior due to her unfortunate condition, so she decided to ignore it and change the topic to the vast array of breakfast options. "Look grandma'am, chocolate!"

She began filling her grandmothers plate while Coriolanus began filling his own as well. You let everyone dig in before you grabbed a few pieces for yourself. The air went back to happy and giddy feeling. You and Tirgis briefly went back into your discussion of last night as you begged of her to show you her creations some time. She was over the moon at your genuine interest and invited you to come over whenever available.

The time passed in light hearted conversations before Coriolanus realized the time and motioned for you both to clean up and get ready to get going. That's when you realized you had completely forgot the violet box. "Oh, one last thing!" You open up the box revealing chocolate truffles, ones that looked nearly identical to the ones you and Coryo shared when you were 11. His shocked expression caused a smirk to appear on your face. You knew he was going to give you a huge rant about how unnecessary it all was but you didn't mind. No, you didn't mind one bit.

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A/N: Guys I know it seems like I have no life, I swear I do! I just got sick so it has been a blessing (i get to read and write all day) and a curse( I literally sound like ill dill). My eyes hurt from looking at my screen for so long. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Also shout-out to @darknight3904 and their fic "It Burns For You"! They inspired multiple parts of this chapter. Go read the fic, guys it's so good! Anyways hope you guys are excited for the next part, much love❤️

@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹 @notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹

[11queensupreme11]

Hey queen, quick question—sorry if it’s a dumb one, but I’m asking anyway🤷‍♀️. How can Percy ascend to godhood?

I understand how ascension works in both worlds, but let’s focus on the ROR world. Zeus’s blood is the main factor for ascension, but in your book, his blood (or any god’s blood) is described as divine ichor. (Or is there a difference between ichor and ambrosia?)

Percy has already drunk Poseidon’s ichor, but nothing happened except that she felt better. So, is there a specific amount needed? Like, “If you drink this much, it’s enough to ascend, but not enough to vaporize you”?

 My brains not working very well since its like 3 or 4am where I'm at rn so i’m sorry if I'm not making much sense to you as you read this.

a lot of people think that drinking zeus' blood made heracles a god, but that's not it 😭 as i have mentioned many times before, drinking zeus' blood made alcides (because he was still alcides at the time) a DEMIGOD, a human with the strength of a god. he drank it when ares came to massacre thebes, beat up ares' vanguard and almost got into a fight with him until zeus interfered and asked alcides to become a god:

theeeeeeen he left for valhalla and had to go through the 12 labors in order to be ascended into godhood!

also summarized here in his wiki:

(funny part is that he went through TWO makeovers for some reason aside from the added beefiness. he was born with black hair, then he became a demigod and his hair turned white, then he ascended into godhood and his hair became orange 🍊)

so yeah, percy is not gonna ascend to godhood at all by drinking poseidon (or any god's) blood. as i talked about briefly in the latest chapter's a/n, i'm combining ror's concept of ambrosia and pjo's concept of ambrosia. i'm gonna expand upon it more in later chapters, but i'll just explain it now:

in pjo verse, ambrosia heals demigods and also tastes like their favorite food. in ror verse, ambrosia (aka, ichor, aka blood of a god) grants humans the strength of a god. because i reeeeaaaaally wanted to make percy a feral little blood-drinker, i combined it so that it would

-- temporarily reprieves her of the pain of her soul chipping away. it does NOT heal her soul, just removes the pain so she's not in crippling agony anymore. it lasts longer compared to nectar and other methods of healing too, but just like with pjo!ambrosia, too much at once will incinerate her

-- tastes like her fav food lol. poseidon tastes like her mom's homemade blue cookies! i'm planning on making the other gods have different tastes 😂😂😂

-- grants her the strength of a god, which is what she needs if she were to hmm... i dunno fight a god without getting absolutely curbstomped to oblivion maybe 👀 but that's totally not gonna happen, no siree! 👀 if you remember, i mentioned that percy has the power of a god, but her body's lacking. she is SEVERELY weak and slow compared to ror characters who are ridiculously op even the humans. this covers that base so now she's got the (temporary) physicality of a god, the power of a god, 99.99% invulnerability, and high battle IQ. all stuff that she TOTALLY WON'T NEED IN THE FUTURE 👀

[draco-after-dark]

Dory Verse - Aftermath

small spoiler for the Feral JD au just so ya know

Rough draft of my favorite Dorse Verse boys seeing Feral again

(I did not re-read this shit so if spelling error you didn't see it)

It had been months, maybe a whole year since they had all last seen him.

Since Grey had last seen his chip buddy.

Since Eldest had last hung out with his therapy dog.

Since Hitman had last seen his comrade. His amego. His best friend.

‘Where are you Feral?’

At first, none of them had really batted an eye at Feral’s absence. The troll could be pretty unpredictable at times and it was always hard to tell when he was at the house or not. He would disappear for days at a time and then reappear somewhere out of thin air.

After a week had passed Eldest had asked Hitman about where the resident mayhem makers could be. Hitman had no clue. Feral wasn’t exactly the talkative type so there was no way for him to tell them when he would be back.

After two weeks they started to worry. Feral had never been gone for this long before. Maybe they had all just been busy. Missed each other because of how wonky time seemed to move in this place. Maybe Feral just had some things going on and he couldn’t visit?

No, that didn’t seem right. Eldest had known Feral a lot longer than Hitman, This wasn’t normal. Something was wrong and he had no way to contact his little buddy.

Before Feral disappeared if you found Hitman, Feral usually wasn’t very far away. The scruffy troll had taken a liking to the awkward troll almost instantly. That fact alone back made a man full of the other JDs of the house jealous. For different reasons depending on who you asked.

Ever since the early days when Crystal and Grey had figured out just how food-motivated the feral troll was it became a sort of right of passage. Piss off Grey and by default, you’d have to deal with Feral. If a chip bag was ever tossed in your direction then good luck because you’d need it.

So when three weeks rolled around Eldest and Hitman had gone to find Grey and figure out what was going on. Since neither of them knew where their friend had disappeared or why, maybe Grey did. Eldest knew how much the troll cared for Grey after the whole Snake incident. God, he really hoped nothing bad hadn’t happened to Feral.

Weeks turned into one month and then two. After that, they had stopped keeping track. Every day they counted just made things worse. Left more questions. More worry for their friend. 

Until months later.

They had all been in the kitchen eating lunch when they heard the distinct rattle of the door in the living room. It always did that before someone entered. Eldest had gone to peek around the corner to see who it was. He figured it was probably a World Tour considering there was no name present at the top of the door. It was something they released that happened to the most frequent visitors of the house. That and World Tour had said he was going to drop by today.

What Eldest hadn’t been expecting when the door opened was to see a completely unfamiliar troll step through. It was unexpected, to say the least. A new John Dory hadn’t shown up in months so they had all just figured that was everyone.

He was so shocked he just stared at the newcomer.

Eldest’s frozen look had quickly gained the attention of the other two and they had moved to also glance around into the living room.

“What the fuck?” Grey said, also being surprised by the newcomer.

This quickly gained the troll's attention. Their ears quickly perked up, eyes shooting towards the small group. At that, their eyes widened as a large grin broke out across their face. 

In a matter of seconds, the troll had already bolted across the living room and grabbed Eldest, spinning him aggressively around. Arm tightly crushing and head pressed into the side of Eldest. This troll was definitely something. They’d picked Eldest up so fast and effortlessly that It had Grey reeling back further into the kitchen.

As soon as the stranger had noticed Grey he had already dropped Eldest. The troll wobbled from dizziness from the constant spinning as the stranger set his sights on his next target. 

Grey.

Grey had curled his hand into a fist ready to punch the troll but before he could swing his arms were already locked by his sides. Grey was about ready to bite this guy if it came down to it but he suddenly froze at the sound and feel of a deep rumble.

It felt familiar..?

Grey was quickly released, unlike Eldest who had been held for a good minute. Eldest now leaning against the edge of the counter waiting for the world to stop spinning so he could ask who they were.

As soon as Grey realised he quickly backed away from the taller troll who looked curiously down at him. The was when 

The trolls then launched themselves directly at Hitman. The two tumbled to the floor in a heap of fluff and fur. Hitman let out a loud grunt a bit dazed at the abrupt impact. When his eyes cracked back open he was face to face with the pale blue troll. 

He’d never seen someone smile so wide

“Bbrrrrrr-ooouu-theeerrrrrrrr.” The troll growled out as he hugged Hitman tightly, cheek pressed firmly into Hitman’s.

‘Wait… brother?’

At that, Hitman had jolted back his hands flying forward grabbing both sides of the mystery troll's face and really looked at him.

Eyebrow slit. Chip out of his ear. Black earrings. Two scars over the right cheek. One big snaggletooth.

‘Holy shit’

“FERAL!”

The troll grinned widely at that as Hitman latched onto him like if he let go Feral would disappear again.

“Feral?” “Feral!”

Grey and Eldest both called one of confusion and the other of relief.

At that exclamation, Eldest stumbled towards the two and crashed onto the floor next to Feral. Hitman was still clinging tightly to Feral as he wiggled an arm free and reached out towards Eldest. 

Eldest’s eyes watered and with a loud sob, he latched on the other side of Feral.

“Feral where! What! AUGH-” Eldest could barely get a word out through his choked sobs. Hitman was not faring much better as he began to shake and also started to cry.

Grey simply watched the three

A devious smirk streaked across Feral’s face.

“NO. DON'T even think about it!”

It was too late Feral had already unwrapped his long tail from his waist and latched it onto Grey's arm. Dragged the unwilling troll straight into the cuddle pile.

Grey grumbled a few protests but eventually settled down. Eldest, reaching out an arm and crushing Grey into them all.

Feral had missed this. Missed them all so much but some many things had happened in such a short period of time he just didn't have the chance to visit.

But he was here now and that's all that mattered.

His low rumble soon fizzed out into a pur, the vibrations from Feral rippling out and through the other three.

This was perfect.

That was when they all heard a voice.

“Did I miss something?”

World tour stood in the entryway of the living room with a puzzled look on his face.

“Fuck.” Grey was never going to hear the end of this.

Grey! JD belongs to @ijjstlostthegame

Eldest! JD belongs to @matmiraculous

Hitman! JD belongs to @lemony-and-zesty

World Tour! JD belongs to @year2000electronics

[palaxy27]

FALLING FOR YOU

My nephew found a song I wrote almost a year ago (a few months) on a trip while I was listening to the epic saga (I was new to the fandom), about sashi realizing his feelings (I'm cursi I know😅) and since epic is over 🥲 I wanted to share it. The only changes I made are only annotations regarding how it would sound (based on the idea of the musical au) NOT A PROJECT (not for now) also jhoanne appears too🥰🥰

🔥 Falling for you 💖

*(Soft acoustic guitar intro, reflective piano notes)*

*(Acoustic guitar and piano, gentle rhythm, sashi is frustrated in the begining)*

I’ve always been the one to stand my ground,

No one breaks me, I don’t back down.

I’ve fought my battles, I’ve won my wars,

But you walked in, and now I’m not so sure.

(reflecting)

Your cotton-candy hair, that lazy grin,

A hero’s heart hidden deep within.

You’re impulsive, stubborn, and carefree,

But somehow, since the first day you’ve gotten to me.

but how?!!!

*(Building slowly, piano swells)*

You’re the chaos I swore to resist,

Yet here I am, lost in your twist.

I grit my teeth, I roll my eyes,

But I can’t deny what I feel inside.

why i didn´t see this before?!!

*(Electric guitar joins, emotional and soaring)*

You irritate me, you drive me insane,

A fire I can’t escape, a joy I can’t explain.

I fight the pull, but I know it’s true,

You irritate me, but I’m falling for you.

*(Electric guitar fades back to acoustic, calm again)*

*(Soft acoustic guitar, heartfelt)*

You’re late, you’re messy, your plans fall apart,

But I see the kindness inside your heart.

You’re brave, you’re bold, stronger than you know,

And I’m caught in the way you glow.

And though you hide the weight you bear,

Of parents lost in a world unfair,

You stand your ground, you never retreat,

Facing dangers others wouldn’t meet.

Choir behind (The fate of the multiverse is always at stake!) Inspired by phillyps line in Fish and Chips

*(The music swells gently, blending into the next verse)*

*(Full instrumentation, soaring vocals)*

You’re a hero, though you may not see,

The light you bring, the strength you set free.

Through every fall, through every fight,

You stand for what’s right, you shine so bright.

You irritate me, you drive me insane,

But I’m falling for you, through joy and pain.

*(Electric guitar fades back to acoustic, soft and gentle)*

*(Quiet and intimate, acoustic guitar and piano)*

My hero, my princess, my guiding star,

My cotton candy boy, you’ve come so far.

Through every smile, every tear, every fight,

You’ve painted my world in colors so bright.

I tell myself, “This can’t be true,

Why would I ever fall for you?”

But your laugh, your touch, your daring way,

Make it harder to walk away.

**[Interruption by Jhoanne]**

*(Just as the music softens, jhoanne’s voice cuts in, playful and teasing)*

"Wait, wait… What’s this I hear?

Are you singing about love, loud and clear?"

**[sashi, startled]**

*(A little panicked, wide-eyed)*

"What? How much did you hear?!"

*(Confident and teasing)*

"Enough to know it’s about him... the cotton candy boy~"

*(The guitar gently strums again, and the piano hums as sashi is left with a surprised and nervious smile, realizing she’s been caught in her own song.)*

"well... I... look is not that easy like you think"

**[Acoustic Interlude – jhoannes Advice]**

*(Soft acoustic harmonies, playful and encouraging with the piano)*

"Come on, what’s stopping you?

Just tell him, it’s what you’ve gotta do.

He’s waiting for you, can’t you see?

What are you afraid of? Just let it be."

"Oh, please, I’ve got too much on my plate,

Work’s piling up, I can’t be late.

I’ve got so many things to do,

I don’t have time for feelings, not now, ... it’s true."

*(Acoustic voices intensify slightly, playfully persistent contrasting with the words of the chorus that slowly is making louder)*

"Work? You’ve always got something on your mind, (save the day)

But love’s the one thing you can’t leave behind. (nothing stand in your way!)

Life’s too short, you’ll regret it, (no time to break!!)

If you don’t tell him how you feel yet." (ALWAYS AT STAKE!!!)

(sashi ignores her)

(Suddenly, Jhoanne adopts a more serious tone.)

"Look, I know you’re hiding something from me.

If something’s wrong… please tell me."

"It’s nothing, really… everything’s fine.

I’m just tired, that’s all, okay?"

you know i will tell you...

(jhoanne looks concerned but decides to let it go, shifting back to the topic of love.)

[Warm and Empathetic]

"Listen, even tough girls need love to go far.

You don’t have to be strong all the time."

*(sashi stays silent, reflecting on her friend’s words, still unsure about taking the leap.)*

**[sashi, hesitant]**

"Maybe you’re right… but what if I’m wrong?

What if I fail, and everything takes too long?" whispering (no time)

[ Loving and Understanding]

"You’ll never know if you don’t try,

You can’t keep living in the ‘why.’

So take a chance, and let it show,

Tell him what you feel, let love flow."

*(The acoustic guitar slows down, giving sashi space to process her friend’s advice.)*

*(Soft acoustic reprise, emotional and reflective)*

Now I see what I tried to ignore,

You’re everything I’ve been searching for.

How could I not fall in love with you?

Yes, how could I not fall in love with you?

*(Piano and acoustic guitar fade into a tender final note)*

Should i wite more pzpth songs? It would be just for fun (also for my class but sssshhhh) xd.

[elwenyere]

fake imperial husbands!! I would like to see them 🥺

For this WIP game, I got asks about the Codywan Fake Imperial Husbands AU from @oathkeeperoxas and @leewardly: thank you so much, friends!!!

The full working title of this fic is Fake Imperial Husbands of the Infinite Sith Sadness, or FIHOTISS, and it’s inspired by/in collaboration with this ‘verse created by the wonderful @frostbitebakery. This fic was also the first choice in this WIP poll, and I have currently written 30 of the 38 sentences promised to lovely voters.

Here's a wee snip from the second section of the 5+1:

From the cockpit of the imperial shuttle, the man known as Tash watched the peaks of Kijimi City recede from view. The forms of the snowtroopers were almost impossible to distinguish among the crags of ice, but the burnt-out husks of downed speeders and cracked blaster cannons littered the slopes, and here and there the thick furs favored by the insurgents stood out against the mountainsides, like the treads of a large machine had sunk into the snow and churned the dirt it covered to the surface. Obi-Wan took in a slow breath. He reached inside, for the place where he was roiling away from himself like a struck python, and he peeled back a thin, crawling layer like a skin - held himself open under the prickling shame, revulsion, anger, fear, regret.  It was still hard to do: much harder than he’d thought when he’d first found Wooley casing the spaceports on Tatooine and imagined he could fabricate the Sith Lord Tash out of the sour pit Wooley’s story left gnawing at his stomach. Obi-Wan hadn’t known about the chips then. He’d never pressed further on the flat, unseamed surface that had spread over his men’s minds in the moments before he’d been shot down. When Wooley had explained to him that the chips had started to fail - that here and there a clone trooper had seen something that cut through the task logs and command prompts and maintenance cycles and left them in control of their own limbs again - Obi-Wan had thought about the woven nap of hundreds of minds threading through the Negotiator, about the warm knots where they’d met and snared. He’d thought about Cody.

[wombywoo]

I apologize in advance for the hefty emojis but I love learning about both of your boys!

🎮🔶🍃❤️💔🍝😊

no need to apologize! thanks for asking :)) <3

🎮 VIDEO GAME CONTROLLER — what are three of your oc's favorite hobbies?

For Quinn--he's not really a hobby type of guy, but I suppose his would be working out, chilling with Fig, and sleeping, lol. He's pretty dedicated to his military work, and doesn't prefer to linger in idle moments lest he start spiraling mentally, so most of his recreational pursuits are more for distraction's sake. He's not even a super big gym guy, but he tends to work out as a physical outlet to get out of his own head..

Vincent has more traditional hobbies--cooking, reading, and role-playing games are some of his main ones. He's taken to learning new recipes, especially now he has a human bf to impress, and reading has always been a passion for him; he likes to escape too every once in a while (historical romance, mostly). The ongoing dnd campaign he and Stuart host with their mates is one of his joys as well. I think Vince would be down to try most hobbies, even more as a potential group activity with Quinn (Quinn is not thrilled with this development -_-)

🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise?

Both are sufficiently versed in CPR, Vincent probably moreso. Being in the military requires at least some medical knowledge, so I imagine Quinn would know the basics. Vincent is definitely more proficient, as he has some...intimate experience with certain practices. He's probably brushed up on it further now that he has a fragile mortal to protect.....

🍃 LEAVES FLUTTERING IN WIND — what is/was your oc's favorite subject in school?

Hmm...Quinn was not so big on school, so his favorite subject might've been P.E. Not that he was even particularly athletic, but it felt better being physical and distracting himself from a lot of the shit he was going through at the time. He wasn't bad in math and science early on, but he lost focus for a lot of subjects as he was finishing school. Funnily enough, his dad was a history teacher, yet Quinn never expressed any real interest in the subject to his father's disappointment.

Vincent appreciated most subjects, but he favored English literature and music. He'd always enjoyed books growing up, so he thrived in discussions about classics and modern novels of the time. Music was another pursuit that he excelled at; also helped that he had a crush on his piano teacher. He was relatively well-rounded as a student, though ancient Latin courses always bored the hell out of him

❤️ RED HEART — what are three of your oc's positive traits?

Quinn--he's determined when he needs to be, doesn't complain about arduous and shitty circumstances, and he cares..despite everything

Vincent--he's kind in a world that doesn't often accommodate that sort of courtesy, he's ambitious (and confident to boot), and he has a lot of compassion

💔 BROKEN HEART — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

Quinn--stubborn as shit, doesn't look out for his own well-being, terminally pessimistic

Vincent--also stubborn, can be a bit pompous, gets possessive and jealous in a nasty way

🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)?

I think I just answered this but I'll elaborate and say Quinn will literally dip anything in peanut butter and eat it; on every sandwich, with every fruit/vegetable, on fish and chips, sausage, corn, eggs,....he's beyond saving 💀

Vincent has also been experimenting with his food intake limit (aka the tummy ache threshold), so he's been able to enjoy some raw meat dishes

😊 SMILING FACE WITH SMILING EYES — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life?

oh...Quinn doesn't really let himself think about life desires. Sure, he's got his job in the military, but he doesn't see himself rising through the ranks so much as staying put and seeing how much he can get away with off the record. Truthfully, he can't picture himself having a good life at all; it's just not something he's ever considered for himself. Until...Vincent came along...

Vincent's immediate desire is for his vampirism to be cured. It's the main thing holding him back and he hasn't fully embraced his future because of the notion that he's going to 'live forever'. So finding a way to be human again might put him on a track where he can finally pursue goals again...and yeah. most of those desires will revolve around Quinn....

[makethatelevenrings]

Coexist // D. Grayson x assassin!reader

A/N: I'm alive. This is...a Lot. Maybe taking a break from writing was a mistake lol

Requested? yes but also no. I took an idea and decided to try and rival Usain Bolt with this sprint

Warnings (PLS READ FOR THIS ONE): a lotttt of introspective thoughts, existential crisis, grief, allusion to child loss, reader's past as an assassin, confusing language as a representation of the confusing and frustrating world we live in

the gif is really just bc i need something to break up the wall of text and his face is pretty

Assassin!Verse masterlist

You barely recall being awoken. On the precipice of sleep and wakefulness, you allowed yourself to reside in that quiet place. For so long you lived alert to the latent dangers of the world, but there was no prickle of anxiety on your skin this time. Not when Dick sat so closely next to you.

His hands rested, one on the steering wheel and the other on the gear shift. He had woken you when the sky was still dark, but the phantom calls of birds rang out amongst the stars as they searched for the coming sun. His touch was gentle, as it always was with you, and his words spoken gentler so he didn’t wake Damian who had declared himself your guardian.

The faux leather upholstery was cool against your cheek and you savored the way it soothed your burning cheeks. You don’t know when the salty tang of tears began to drip down your cheeks. Had you been crying for the whole drive? Or had the tears always been a part of you, but only now they were exposing themselves as your mask slowly chipped away?

He pulled the car into a small lot that was composed of a few concrete blocks that functioned as parking barriers and grass trampled by hundreds of feet. Dick wordlessly exited the car and took a moment to inhale before he rounded to your side and opened the door. You felt clumsy and shy, like a newborn foal trying to walk for the first time. What happened to the grace that was instilled in you? It wasn’t lost, you knew that, but today was not about who they had made you to be.

He pressed the stems of the bouquet into your hands and the presence of soft, bumpy earth bit into your skin with a mental sharpness that rivaled thorns. The sharp exhale and inhale of your breath mixed in a tentative dance with the cool air that nipped at your skin. It was bitterly cold. It was practically frozen.

It was a perfect reminder of your mortality. You loved it.

Dick walked in tandem with you. Up the lane, past the wrought iron gates that creaked in greeting, and past the weathered stones and marble blocks that showed so little of so lived a life. He faltered in his steps once you caught sight of the small stone and his hand fell from its careful place in the crook of your elbow. You surged forward and let your heart carry you with all its heaviness.

It wasn’t a conscious decision to fall to your knees and present the bundle of red and white spider lilies, but it happened and there you were. You were here and there. You were the lines of etchings engraved into stone and you were the finger touching the worn surface. Other flowers crowded you as you sank into the unfathomable realization.

Most people (you cannot bring yourself to say all because you are proof that it is not all, and you know others who struggle with this realization) only live one life. There is no guidebook that explains step by step how to proceed in this big, scary world around you. Every person from the barista at the corner coffee shop to your own mother are all experiencing the world for the first time. They are experiencing the profound joy of the simple things and the devastating loss of the greatest loves of their lives.

You are one of these people. You are not one of these people.

Before you sat an epithet to the person you were. There is no space in your mind to consider the life you might have lived if the things that happened to you hadn’t happened at all. But would that have been you? You have had these discussions with Alfred many times late at night, raving at a God who, if he exists, destined you to a life with stains of blood on your hands placed there by people who should have protected you.

The sun crests the hill and bathes the world in an unfelt warmth and it ignites the anger in your veins. How dare these people weep for a child they barely knew? You hate yourself for thinking it. How dare you grow angry at the love of a parent?

They knew you. They don’t know you.

You are two people; a ghost and a mirage kneel side by side on the frozen ground that covers an empty casket. Your name marks the stone, but it is not the name you call yourself. It does not ignite the warmth of familiarity that it does when it comes from the tongue of your found family.

You don’t know how long you stay there, grieving the loss of who you once were and coming to terms with the choice laid before you. The sun has decided to cling to you and despite the chill, you can feel the way it bites at your skin.

It is simple, the answer to your choice.

You were once a child. You are now an adult. These two things can coexist.

But you were once this child. You are now this adult.

The fabric of the small toy seated at the grave is rotten with weather and age. The plastic eyes are scratched, but they gaze up at you with a sincerity you know only in one other person’s eyes.

Dick had been here before you. He laid this small robin at the foot of your grave and you nearly weep at the sight.

Instead, you slowly pull yourself to your feet, draw yourself up high, and let who you once were lay protected and loved.

His hand enclosed around yours and you let yourself fall into the warmth of his embrace. The two of you turn your back to the past and, together, step into your choice.

To live, to love, to feel.

To exist as your own.

You were you. And now you are your own.

These two things can coexist.

Tag List:

@someoneimsure@perpetual-fangirl900@visagebrise@cursedandromedablack@alexxavicry@the-wayward-daughter@raging-trash-of-mind@khaylin27