#pictures from pinterest

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Adam surprisingly Lucifer on Christmas Day in this.

That is all.

@fanofstuff01

@kittenfangirl20

@beef-brisket

@libby-for-life

@talesfromawannabejournalist

@lilacwriter07

@sir-tater-of-the-tot

[madeofmemoriesblog]

Moodboard

[iamgonnagetyouback]

james potter x cat animagus!reader who he picks up thinking as stray and lets in on a secret

James Potter was the kind of guy who could never ignore a creature in need, so when he found a little brown cat loitering around the Quidditch pitch during practice, his heart melted instantly. "Poor thing," he murmured, crouching down. “You’re probably cold and starving. Don’t worry, mate—I’ve got you.”

Before you could react, you were being scooped up in his strong arms. Not that you minded, really.

James carried you straight to the Gryffindor boys’ dormitory, setting you on his bed with all the care of a proud parent. “There you go. Home sweet home.”

You blinked at him, tail twitching in mild amusement.

“Right,” he said, flopping onto the bed beside you. “Let’s establish some ground rules. No scratching the furniture. No biting Sirius—actually, scratch that, feel free to bite Sirius. And no stealing my socks, got it?”

You gave him the look—your signature, unimpressed really, James? glare.

James narrowed his eyes at you. “Weird. You’ve got this very… familiar judgmental vibe. Kind of like—nah. I’m imagining it.” He grinned. “Anyway, since you’re new here and seem chill, I’ll let you in on a secret.”

You tilted your head, heart thumping nervously.

James puffed out his chest dramatically. “I’ve got a girlfriend.”

You twitched your ears.

“She’s amazing. Funny, smart, gorgeous.” He laughed, leaning back on the bed. “But Merlin, she’s terrifying sometimes. But, you know, in a hot way. Like, I kind of like it when she yells at me.”

You swished your tail sharply, earning a startled laugh from him.

“Oi, don’t judge! You don’t know what it’s like to be loved by a goddess,” he said, wagging a finger at you. “She’s got this look—like, when I say something dumb, she just stares at me. Kinda like the look you’re giving me right now.”

Your tail lashed harder, but James carried on, oblivious as he scratched the back of his neck. “Anyway, she’s amazing. Except sometimes, she’s so bossy. Always telling me to do my homework, stop sneaking chocolate into the library, quit messing up my hair—”

You hissed softly, and James blinked. “What? I’m just saying it’s endearing. Don’t get your whiskers in a twist.” He leaned in, narrowing his eyes.

“And the sass! She’s so sassy. Honestly, sometimes I think she loves making me squirm.” He sighed dreamily, resting his chin in his hands. “What a woman. You’d like her. Or maybe not. She’d probably call you ‘scruffy’ or something. Wait—you’re scruffy and judgy. Are you sure you’re not her Animagus form?”

You froze.

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “She’d have told me. I mean, I told her I’m a stag! She’s even touched my antlers. I think she’s got a thing for them, but she denies it. So, yeah, she’d totally tell me if she were a cat.”

You stared at him, doing your best to suppress a laugh.

The next day, the game was up.

“Wouldn’t want to be too bossy, now would I?” you said sharply, glaring at James in the common room.

James stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. “What?”

You raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he said, shaking his head like a wet dog. “No way. How do you—what—how do you know that?”

You just smirked.

James clutched his hair like a man on the verge of a breakdown. “Wait. Wait. Okay, no. There’s an explanation. Did Sirius tell you? No—he doesn’t even listen when I talk. Did Remus overhear and snitch? No, he’d lecture me about boundaries. Did… did you talk to the cat?!”

You snorted. “What?”

“Do you speak cat language?!” James demanded, looking genuinely alarmed. “Oh, Merlin, are you part Kneazle?!”

“James—”

“Or—or did you use Legilimency on the cat?!” He gasped, his hands flying to his hair. “Were you watching me somehow? Are you spying on me?!”

“James—”

“Oh my god.” His voice dropped to a whisper, eyes wild with panic. “You’re in cahoots with the cat, aren’t you?”

“James!”

He flailed dramatically. “Are you secret friends with a magical talking cat?”

“James Fleamont Potter!”

“What?!”

You crossed your arms, smirking. “I was the cat, you idiot.”

James blinked. Once. Twice. Then he pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You WHAT?!”

“I’m an Animagus,” you said, shrugging.

James stared at you like you’d just told him you were the heir of Merlin. “No. No way. You’re lying. You’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.”

You shrugged again. “Sorry, love. Not joking.”

He gasped, clutching his chest. “I LET YOU SLEEP IN MY BED.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“I SCRATCHED BEHIND YOUR EARS.”

“Very kind of you.”

“I TOLD YOU MY SECRETS!”

“Well, you did think I was a stray.”

James stumbled backward, clutching at the table for support. “I—I let you see me in my pajamas! I let you cuddle with me! I—oh my god, I called you soft and—wait—” He glared at you, realization dawning. “You hissed at me when I called you bossy!”

You grinned. “Sure did.”

“And you glared at me! That was your glare! Oh, bloody hell, I should’ve known.” He groaned, collapsing onto the bed. “This is so embarrassing. Why didn’t you tell me?!”

You plopped down beside him, smirking. “I wanted to see how long it’d take you to figure it out.”

James buried his face in his hands. “I let you TOUCH MY ANTLERS.”

“And they’re very nice antlers,” you teased, poking his side.

He peeked at you through his fingers, pouting. “This is betrayal, you know. Pure betrayal.”

“James.”

“Nope. Betrayal.”

“James.”

He groaned. “Fine. But you owe me so much cuddling to make up for this.”

“Deal,” you said, pulling him into a hug.

“Wait,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “You do think my antlers are cool, right?”

You kissed his cheek. “The coolest, love.”

“Thought so.”

[literarydesire]

A new semester draws gloser

[olivianott]

WHITE DRESS

Posting this again, because I can’t stop thinking about the Goddess moment and that one photo from pinterest 😌

ꕤ Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ enemies to lovers, a little bit of smut - not for minors

ꕤ originaly part of the jinxedjuly challenge, with second week prompt nightswim, but now it’s too late I’m sorry 😬

It’s 3 am and you can’t sleep. It’s too hot outside, no air to breathe in your room. Putting your thin long dress on, you go take a walk outside around the pool.

It’s still hot outside, but the light breeze coming from the sea feels great on your skin.

You sit on one of the pool lounges and close your eyes, listening to the sounds of the night. Finally, you can relax, your mind a little more at ease.

Suddenly something doesn’t feel right. You feel compelled to look behind you and there it is. A silhouette. There. In the dark entrance to the pool area.

It moves closer to you and comes into the light. Theodore. You roll your eyes. The bane of your existence. You can’t believe your friends invited him and no one told you.

“What the fuck do you want? Why are you following me?” You don’t have a good relationship. He is a fuckboy with a body worthy of Greek gods but is such an asshole to you, makes fun of everything you do or say, constantly.

“Oh Princessa, don’t you think you give yourself too much credit sometimes? It may come as a surprise to you, but the universe does not revolve around you, you know?”

“You fucking…” but you don’t even bother finishing the sentence, you just stand up and with an angry and disappointed sigh stomp to him and try to storm around him back into the house.

You make it a point not to look at him but you catch a strange look on his face in your peripheral vision anyway.

His arm shoots out and catches you off guard. It curls around your waist and pulls you into him. What is happening?

Theo speaks right into your ear: “I think you need to loosen up a bit princess, maybe a little night swim with me will help you.” You can just imagine the smirk on his face but you don’t have any time to respond, because the asshole picks you up and throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You can admit to yourself that the view of his ass in the swim trunks is not half bad but you don’t, because he runs towards the pool.

FUCK.

The shock of the water against your skin and all around you makes you panic for a second too long but strong arms pull you up and hold you above the surface of the water. Your angry scowl goes unnoticed by him as he leaves you leaning against the wall of the pool once you gather yourself.

“I hate you so much. What is your problem, asshole?”

He completely ignores you and swims to the other side of the pool. When he turns around, you know he has his stupid smirk on his face, even though you don’t see his mouth, only his eyes above the surface.

Your friends said he is “such a nice person”, but why is he always such a prick to you? Some say it’s because he wants your attention, pulling on your pigtails and whatnot. Maybe you should get back at him and test that theory at the same time.

You’ve never been shy, but this took a lot of courage from you. Getting out of the pool you walk across the deck to where he leans against the wall, his eyes so big, you already feel accomplished.

The thin material of the dress clings to the curves of your body, it’s completely seethrough when wet. Coupled with you not wearing any underwear beneath the dress, the look on his face is priceless. He can’t look away. You enjoy the sight of him with his mouth open, eyes big, not blinking. His stare travels all around your body and he seems like he is in a trance. You stop right beside him, the height difference that being out of the pool gives you goes straight into your head and you smirk down at him.

“Thank you for that, I was too hot. You can close your mouth now, loverboy.”

The way he looks at you from beneath your feet makes you feel like a Goddess, him your most devoted worshipper. You can basically see the hearts in his eyes. The theory has proven to be right.

Satisfied, you turn to leave, but his hand shoots forward and gently touches your ankle, careful not to make you trip, but it makes you turn around again.

Theo stands up on the higher pool step and it makes his eyes level with your chest. He grabs your thighs and the way he looks at you makes you drunk on his gaze. Shit. This was not part of the plan.

He picks you up, hands around your waist, pulls you down into the water again, and pins you against a wall of the deep end of the pool. With his hands caging you in, you can’t look away from his eyes behind the wet curtain of curls. The strange look is back in his eyes and his gaze falls on your still wet lips. You can’t look away. You follow the water droplet, traveling from the end of the hair strand, down his nose, all the way to his pouty lips. When it disappears into his slightly open mouth, you forget how to breathe altogether. His mouth is so close to yours. Suddenly your lips touch, and something between you, the tension that, unbeknownst to you, has been stretching, tightening, and growing for a long time now, snaps. You forget everything around you, the only thing you feel is his lips on yours, his hands in your hair, the length of his body pushing against yours.

Fingers caressing your nipples, but it’s not enough.

Thigh between your legs, but your dress is too long.

Hand pulling the dress up, trying to bunch it up against your thighs, but it’s too tight.

Head falling against your shoulder, Theo sighs into your neck, frustrated.

“Fuck! You know what Princessa? Tomorrow. Same time, here in the pool. Wear something easier to take off, or I’ll tear it right off of you.” He whispers in your ear and your whole body erupts in goosebumps.

He doesn’t look at you while he gets out of the pool, and walks to the mansion, but the evidence of his arousal is on display.

Time to find an even longer and tighter dress, for him to rip to pieces tomorrow.

IT CONTINUES

As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it.

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

[godspeedviper]

Killing must feel good to God too, he does it all the time, and are we not made in his image?

[moonyswarmsweaters]

Barty Crouch Jr Exposed !!!!

[raw-time]

[little-miss-romance]

She wasn’t light; she was color. Every single one, dancing otherworldly and bright over his unworthy eyes.

[iamnotthere-idonotdie]

thursday, october 31st

the batman (2022)

[cherrywineandroses]

The burgundy on my T-shirt

When you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet,

It was MAROON

[madeofmemoriesblog]

Rainy days ♡

[iamgonnagetyouback]

james potter x reader who gets asked out by james with the help of the boys and..... minnie?

You clutched the small, crumpled piece of parchment in your hand, staring at the words written in James Potter’s unmistakable scrawl:

“Common Room. After dinner. Don’t tell anyone. Trust me, love. It’ll be worth it.”

Now, trusting James Potter was a gamble at best, but curiosity—and your soft spot for him—led you to climb through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room.

The space was eerily empty, the usual chatter replaced by an ominous silence.

“James?” you called out, your voice echoing slightly.

Before you could take another step, an explosion of sound and red smoke erupted from seemingly nowhere. You coughed, waving your hands in front of your face as crimson mist swirled around you. Instinctively, you drew your wand.

“Ventus!” you muttered, sending a gust of air through the room. The smoke cleared, revealing a massive, glittery banner suspended near the ceiling.

“DATE…?” it read in obnoxiously large, bold letters.

You gawked at the banner, completely dumbfounded. Before you could process the situation, a spotlight flickered on. There, standing on a table with a guitar slung around his neck, was none other than Sirius Black.

“Hit it, Wormy!” Sirius bellowed.

And then...he strummed the guitar.

The sound was horrendous. You weren’t sure what was more offensive: Sirius’s attempt at music or Peter Pettigrew leaping out from behind an armchair, singing in a voice that could shatter glass.

“GO OUT WITH HIM, GO OUT WITH HIM, HE’S THE BEST BOY THERE IS! HE’S THE CHASER WHO’LL CHASE YOUR HEART—”

“Merlin, no!” you yelped, covering your ears.

“—SO DON’T LET THIS CHANCE FAAAAART—”

“Wormtail!”

Peter stopped mid-warble as Sirius smacked the back of his head. “It’s fall apart, you dolt!”

“Stop! STOP!” Remus Lupin’s voice rang out from the shadows, mortified. He looked like he was actively praying for the floor to swallow him whole. In his hands, he held a small, handwritten sign: Go out with James.

Remus looked anywhere but at you, his cheeks tinged with pink as he awkwardly raised the sign higher.

“Merlin’s beard…” you whispered, half amused, half overwhelmed.

Suddenly, the room plunged into darkness.

“Oh, come on,” you muttered.

Another spotlight flickered on, illuminating the man of the hour: James Potter. He was perched—on top of a chair? The mantle? You couldn’t tell because your brain was short-circuiting. His lopsided grin was in full effect, his hazel eyes sparkling as he looked directly at you.

“Will you go out with me, love?” he asked, his voice warm and soft, despite the ridiculousness surrounding him.

You opened your mouth to respond, but—

“AHEM.”

James froze, his smile dropping as he turned toward the source of the noise.

“Not now, Pads,” he hissed.

Another cough.

“I said not now, Pads. Don't you want a brother to settle dow—” James whipped around, his expression shifting from annoyance to sheer panic when he saw who was standing there.

Professor McGonagall.

She was staring at James through her glasses, one brow arched so high it was practically touching her hairline.

“Care to explain what is going on here, Mr. Potter?” she asked in a tone that sent shivers down your spine and, evidently, James’s too.

“I, uh—”

Peter piped up, “We’re just, uh, rehearsing for the school talent show!”

“There is no school talent show,” McGonagall said flatly.

“Then we’ll start one!” James said brightly.

“Mr. Potter, the Fat Lady came screaming through the portraits about ‘horrible singing and red smoke.’ I should have known it was your group of troublemakers,” McGonagall said, her tone icy.

Peter piped up: “You know, Min—er, Professor, the Fat Lady really overreacts. I don't really believe I- the person who was singing was 'horrible'. I think we should fire the Fat Lady.”

Professor McGonagall gave him a look.

“On second thought,” Peter stammered, “she’s doing a great job. Wonderful lady. Terrific lungs.”

Sirius jumped in, abandoning the guitar and his shame. “Minnie, might I just say you’re looking particularly radiant this evening?”

“And regal!” James added hastily, straightening his glasses.

“Charming!” Peter squeaked.

“Delightful!” Sirius chimed again but McGonagall only gave them the look.

“Minnie, come on! Give us a break,” Sirius pleaded, dramatically throwing an arm over James’s shoulders. “Do you want James to grow old and alone?”

“You will grow old in detention if you keep this up, Black.” She turned her gaze to you, her stern expression softening slightly. “Five points from Gryffindor for…whatever this is. And Potter…”

“Yes, Professor?” James asked, his voice squeaky.

“You have one minute to clean this up. Good night.” She turned to leave, but not before casting you a knowing smile over her shoulder. “Good luck,” she murmured, loud enough for only you to hear, before walking out.

The moment she disappeared, James collapsed into a nearby armchair, dramatically wiping his forehead. “Merlin, that was close.”

“Close?!” you echoed, finally finding your voice. “You almost got us all detention for this?” You gestured vaguely to the chaos.

James grinned sheepishly. “So…will you?”

“Hmm,” you teased, tapping your chin. “I’m not sure. I mean, the sign was a bit much. And Peter’s singing…”

“Oi!” Peter said indignantly.

“And Sirius…”

“What about me?!” Sirius demanded, looking offended.

“…was Sirius.”

James groaned, flopping onto his knees in front of you. “Please, love. Don’t let all this effort go to waste.”

You chuckled, letting him squirm for a moment before leaning in. “Yes, James. I’ll go out with you.”

Before he could react, Sirius clapped his hands loudly. “WELL? What are you waiting for? Snog already!”

“Padfoot!”

“I mean it, Prongs! Show her why you’re the best!”

You laughed so hard you nearly cried, but James ignored Sirius, leaning in close enough to whisper, “Don’t worry. I’ll save that for our first date.”

You blushed, but before you could reply, Sirius shouted, “I’M TAKING CREDIT FOR THIS!”

[sunnie-angel]

Movie Magic

jason todd x gn!reader

summary: a cozy movie marathon date with jason todd

tags: fluff, kissing, minor reference to canonical character death

rated teen | wc: 1k

a/n: inspired by an ask from the lovely @orchidsangel

It’s a Saturday morning, and the weekend is stretching wide in front of you. It’s been a long week, so you and Jason have decided to do a movie marathon together instead of going out. The morning starts with breakfast, fresh fruit and real maple syrup drizzled over French toast. Dishes done side by side in the sink, winter sun coming in pale through the window. A few days earlier, when you’d done the grocery shopping, you’d picked up snacks specifically for this day. There’s popcorn and chips, pretzels and M&Ms, licorice and skittles. Each gets put out in their own bowls, ready to be eaten. Then would come building the blanket fort. Moving cushions and the duvet from the bed out into the living room, pulling bedsheets out of the linen closet. While Jason rolls an empty clothing rack out to hold up the blankets, you get the idea to take down some of your fairy lights and put them up in the fort, little pinpricks of light to stop Jason’s fear of small dark spaces from creeping in. It takes all of your decorative throw pillows you had insisted on and Jason had affectionately rolled his eyes at for you both to get comfortable. But it is comfortable, tucked up under Jason’s arm and swaddled in blankets, snack bowls tucked between your hip and the side of the couch.

Jason puts on the first movie, something you both loved as children. You laugh at the same moments, point out your favourite characters and scenes. His ribs knock into yours when he snorts, warm and solid beside you. Jason puts on the sequel, which you both agree is nowhere near as good as the first. Offhandedly you mention that at least the third was better since they brought back the scriptwriter from the first movie and Jason has to press pause. Turns to you jaw slightly open and asks if you’re serious, that there’s a third one, that they made more. The thing is, there was a third movie, only Jason wouldn’t have known. Resurrection and revenge doesn’t really leave a lot of time for catching up on pop culture. You wrap your arms around him tighter, navigate to the next movie and press play. For this one, the two of you are silent. Jason’s eyes are wide and attentive, lips parted in awe. You watch him as much as the movie, drink in his reactions eagerly and the way his arm tightens around your shoulder at the tense moments. The credits start to roll, and still Jason doesn’t say anything.

“So… what did you think?” You ask. He runs his fingers through his hair, looks you in the eye, and goes on one of the most impassioned rants you’ve ever heard him give, and you’ve heard him rant about everything they got wrong in the newest Sense and Sensibility adaptation. He barely stops to breathe between discussing the casting and how surprisingly good the stunts were. He talks himself hoarse until you pass him your soda. That manages to interrupt his flow of thought, and he apologizes sheepishly for getting too caught up in the movie. “S’okay, I like hearing you be passionate. What did you think of the cinematography?” and he’s off again, hands flying through the air as he tries to describe just what parts excited him the most.

It’s his stomach rumbling that interrupts him a second time, causing the two of you to laugh. Lunch gets eaten on the couch, plates carefully balanced on laps. You convince Jason to watch Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and the look on his face when he gets torn between getting a version of his favourite book with added death jokes and wanting to point out how inaccurate a Regency society faced with the zombie apocalypse is, makes you have to constantly stifle giggles. You take turns after that, introducing each other to different movies as the pale sun slowly moves across the sky. Jason chooses a movie Damian made him watch, which despite the scary moments that have you burying your head in his shoulder, has some of the most beautifully shot scenes you’ve seen in a while. You get into a heated debate over Howl’s Moving Castle, eventually having to agree that book Sophie is more interesting but movie Howl is more dreamy. Jason has to dive for the popcorn bowl when you start yelling at the tv screen for the characters in the next movie to just talk to each other goddamn it! He indulges you when you rant about how most of the time the miscommunication trope is just lazy writing, that if the scriptwriters wanted to get the audience actually invested in the characters then they needed to stop making the climax something so easily fixable. You get so excited when something happens onscreen that you know a behind-the-scenes story about. Poking Jason in the side to make sure he’s listening before launching into an anecdote about how they’re actually only filming on horseback for the long shots, all of the closeups done on fake platforms to make filming easier. Or how the censorship rules of the time meant the director had to find a way for the characters to metaphorically kiss, and that’s why they’re always sharing cigarettes.

It’s beyond time for dinner, but full on snacks and treats, neither of you are feeling hungry yet. You’d introduced Jason to the magic of peanut M&Ms mixed into butter popcorn and you can tell that he’s going to be obsessed for the next while. The credits on the latest movie are rolling, there’s dishes to do and a couch to put back together, but all those things can wait. You look up from where you’re curled up beside him, cozy under the blanket and the weight of his arm, and he’s smiling down at you fondly. It doesn’t take much to stretch up and press your lips to his. He tastes like chocolate and salt and a long lazy afternoon. You can feel the edges of his lips turning up into a smile against yours.

“What was that for?” He murmurs.

“For listening to me ramble. And for introducing me to your favourite things.”

[rentsturner]

Nose

[godspeedviper]

The Arkham County Jane Doe - Crane x Reader x Hannibal (18+)

𖤐 Requested by Anonymous: Hi, could you maybe write a fanfic where both Dr. Crane and Hannibal are obsessed with their patient ( maybe in a mental hospital) and actively isolate her from other patients? After she tries to escape, they make it clear they won‘t allow it unless she stays with them in some form. With smut in the end?

𖤐 Type: Oneshot || Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader x Jonathan Crane || Smut || Crossover

𖤐 Word Count: 2,605

𖤐 Rating: Explicit || Spitroasting || Manipulation || Obsession || Threesomes || Asylums || Doctor/Patient Relationship

𖤐 A/N: Hope I got this one right! Apologies for taking so long with it, it's been the most challenging request I've written thus far. Thanks for trusting me with it!

When Hannibal first laid eyes on her, she was standing in a secure hospital room wearing what appeared to be just a men's XL shirt, plain, and some socks, all covered in dried blood and dirt. She was found in a shed on a vast property at the edge of Arkham county, held captive along with two other young women, who had originally gone missing from Franklin, Maryland. However, nothing was known about her in particular. No one had reported her missing, unlike the other two victims, and neither of the two knew her name. Most perplexing of all, she herself claimed to not know her identity either. With the perpetrator still in the wind, it was up to Hannibal to try and coax information from her in hopes of solving the case. She was his patient now. His, and only his. 

  When Jonathan Crane first saw her, she was dressed in a cream colored Arkham Asylum patient uniform – which consisted of a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt, matching gripped socks, and a white t-shirt underneath – the standard for all the non high risk patients. She was a puzzle, and he wanted to crack her open and reach inside 

to consume 

to taste 

to know.

  Unfortunately, he would have to be sharing her with the BAU as she potentially held vital information to an open case. He watched as the FBI’s chosen psychiatrist stepped into his office. Dr. Hannibal Lecter was a man unlike any he’s ever encountered. Crane was accustomed to being the apex predator within Arkham’s walls, both amongst staff and patients alike. He didn’t like the confidence with which the other psychiatrist paraded himself around the office like he owned the place. Crane especially didn’t like the bold familiarity with which Dr. Lecter approached his favorite patient. It was far too close for Crane’s comfort. She was his and his alone… or so he thought. 

“Hello Jane.” Dr. Crane watched, and listened, as Dr. Lecter interacted with his patient through the security footage. 

“Must you call me that?” she replied. 

“Until we can find out your name, yes I’m afraid I will have to call you that.” He smirked and leaned forward, closing the distance between them and obscuring Jonathan’s view of her from the security camera, positioning himself between her and the camera’s line of sight. 

  What a cocky bastard. Crane thought to himself. He took a sip of his coffee and leaned closer to the monitors to get a better look at their interactions. I wonder what he’s afraid of… Jonathan made a mental note to take some time to customize a batch of fear toxin to use on Dr. Lecter at his earliest convenience. The rest of the session was uneventful to the untrained eye, but Jonathan’s psychiatric expertise compounded with his raging jealousy was causing him to make mountains out of molehills. He spent the remainder of the week visibly distracted as the envy consumed him. He would have to move her to higher security to ensure that any upcoming “sessions” with Dr. Lecter wouldn’t be so cozy. 

  The next time Dr. Lecter met with Jane Doe he had to go past additional security clearances and into a whole other room. This time she was behind a plexiglass window with a phone on the wall, similar to prison visitation. He frowned, surely this was wrong. How could they treat a victim like a prisoner? Like a suspect? The whole objective was to establish rapport and glean insight. How could he when she was now being treated like the people who harmed her? No, this simply wouldn’t do. Hannibal sat down and picked up the phone, his eyes quickly scanning the room to find where the security cameras were situated. 

“Hello again, Miss Doe.” he gave a warm smile and then he leaned in to whisper “I’m going to get you out of here, I promise, but you must do as I tell you.” 

She mouthed a desperate ‘ thank you’ and relaxed her body in relief. 

This only escalated the situation. 

   Hannibal was able to convince Jack Crawford and Co. to plead a case with the Arkham board of directors to reduce security clearance on their Jane Doe. In two weeks he was face to face with the board alongside Dr. Alana Bloom, Dr. Frederick Chilton, and even Jack Crawford himself, all threatening to pursue a transfer closer to Quantico unless they stop treating her as one would a suspect or dangerous patient. Dr. Crane was present at the meeting, and subsequently yielded, only to have her transferred to an entirely new wing of Arkham in a few weeks under the pretense of using alternative treatment methods for her benefit. For months, the two psychiatrists continued to battle for dominance over the case of the Arkham County Jane Doe, to the point that even Freddie Lounds and Vicki Vale caught wind of it. The two journalists began hanging around the asylum trying to interview as many people as possible regarding the situation. Soon it became more than that, writers began flocking in from all over, from the Gotham Gazette to the Daily Planet and even a few true crime youtubers tried to throw their hat into the ring. 

“Why is Arkham Asylum so keen on keeping the FBI out of this case?”

“What is the extent of the BAU’s knowledge on the living Jane Doe?”

“Don’t you think all this back and forth, all this bureaucracy, is just hindering the investigation?” 

“Isn’t this just another dick measuring contest between bureaus to see who can keep the glory?”  

  The two men continued their game of chess – with Jane Doe as their queen, their objective – with laser focus, but alas great minds think alike, and as such it was like trying to fight their own shadow. Both men were incredibly intelligent in more ways than one, and both were more than willing to fight dirty. As their rivalry intensified, so did the cracks, and she knew it would only be a short time before an opportunity presented itself. She was playing them both like a fiddle and not a single person had caught on, not the two doctors in question, nor the rest of the asylum staff, not even the FBI were alerted to her manipulative tactics, and all she had to do was sit back and let them consume each other. All remained on track until the 6th month of her capture, when one of the journalists tried to bribe their way into the asylum. This rang a few alarm bells for Dr. Lecter’s case partner, Will Graham, causing him to confront the doctor with his theory.  

And so Hannibal Lecter set up a very special dinner. 

“What brings you here today Dr. Lecter?” Jonathan Crane tried to feign disinterest, but this was so out of the blue that he couldn’t help his curiosity. He fixed his eyes on the man sitting across from him waiting to catch any minor movements that would aid his understanding of the present situation. Hannibal sat tall in the guest seat in Jonathan’s office, hands folded neatly in his lap, his legs crossed at the ankle below.

“It seems we have a problem.” Hannibal almost purred. 

“We?” replied Crane, raising a brow inquisitively. 

“Yes, it concerns our mutual patient.” Dr Lecter smirked. He let the information sink in and he watched with rapt attention as the mad doctor before him shifted his body from curious, but defensive, to fully alert and open. “I would like to discuss this with you over dinner tonight if that is possible. These walls have ears.”

“Don’t I know it.” Jonathan hummed in agreement. 

  After the journalist’s attempt to break into the asylum, the Arkham County Jane Doe was moved to an extra special cell deep within the bowels of the madhouse. She was given a new set of clothing, bright orange, for the high risk patients. It was for her own safety, they said, but her gut instinct doubted it. The cell was completely padded, it had a bed built into the floor, entirely padded as well, and a small toilet with a minor covering sat in the furthermost corner. It would all be comical if not for the gravity of the situation. She would never escape from here, there wasn’t even a window. An eternity seemed to pass her by in that strange little room before the monotony was broken by the sound of the heavy door being unlocked from the outside. However, she didn’t stir, she remained in the makeshift bed with her back towards the door, she already knew who was about to come in there was no one else it could be. 

“There are very few people within Arkham that even know of this room’s existence.” Said the voice, it was Dr. Crane. “And even fewer still can access it.” 

She could hear the smile in his voice, yet she still refused to turn around. 

“It is a real privilege to be here.” Said a different voice, and this one caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on attention. The voice belonged to none other than Dr. Lecter. This time, she almost feared turning around to greet them. 

The heavy door closed behind them, making a sort of suction sound as it sealed shut. Both men stood in front of the door with their hands behind their back and hungry smiles spread on their lips like wolves overlooking helpless prey. She lay there, frozen, unsure of how to react as she began to hear the men pacing around the room, circling her like vultures. The two were entirely in sync, a stark contrast to the rival dynamic they had for the past 6 months. Their voices blended together into one and they even finish each other’s sentences. A malicious alliance. 

“You know, it takes quite a lot to pull the wool over my eyes…” 

“...but to do that to both of us? That takes serious skill.” 

“We’re impressed darling, really, we are.” 

“That’s exactly why we have decided to give you a choice.”

At this, she finally perked up, sitting at the edge of the bed to finally face her two captors. 

“There’s that lovely face.” Said Jonathan with a cheeky smile. 

“What are my options?” she asked. 

“You can stay here at Arkham, under strict surveillance until the brass solves the case and figures out what to do with you.” Jonathan then turned to look at Hannibal, who spoke without missing a beat. 

“Or you can give us some information, and we will then take care of you… If you wish." His smile was hungry and wolfish. 

“And what must I do to earn your good side?” she asked, there was something missing in this whole equation. “You two wouldn’t go through all this trouble just to offer me this for nothing in return.” 

  The pair of psychiatrists stepped forward, flanking her on each side, each man looking like a mirror image of each other. Both tall, lean, with stark chiseled features and stoic expressions that revealed nothing and everything all at once. Without warning, Hannibal sat down on the bed beside her and pressed his mouth to her throat, worshiping her soft skin with his lips. Jonathan eagerly joined in, resting his head on her shoulder and mirroring the other’s actions on her throat. She gasped in surprise and then straightened her back, lengthening her neck, and leaning into the action as much as her body would allow. She felt a hand grab her inner thigh, pulling her legs apart, while another slipped under the top of her asylum uniform, sliding up her torso and reaching for her tender breast. Her head lolled back and her eyelids fluttered as her skin grew hot. She heard them speak but she could no longer tell who was who, it was as if the three of them were slowly melting into one. 

“We’ve seen how you look at us.” 

“Surely you must’ve been anticipating intimacy with at least one of us.”

“You were going to seduce us, and now we get to seduce you.” 

A rhythm was soon established, set by the frantic beating hearts and breathy wanton moans. The whole room seemed to almost pulsate with energy as the sexual tension was ratcheted up exponentially. The ebb and flow was abruptly stopped by three simple words. 

“I want you.”

Even she was taken aback by the sound of her own voice, let alone her choice of words.

“Which one?” came the reply.

“Both.”

  Neither psychiatrist wasted any time in disrobing their patient, any regard for professionalism or ethics had been left outside this door along with their dignity. In this room, they were all mad. Despite their haste, she felt as if nothing would ever be fast enough to quench this burning desire in her core. Once fully nude she lay back on the bed, eagerly waiting to be taken advantage of. Both men were visibly hungry and hard. Their hands moved on instinct alone as neither could tear their eyes away from the nude figure before them, she captivated their attention like hypnosis, they were powerless in her grasp, she who manipulated them both and preyed upon their competitive jealousy for her own benefit. Freeing his member from his slacks, Hannibal ruthlessly grabbed the back of her head with one hand and his length in the other. She salivated at the sight and wrapped her lips around the head. She could just barely hear him curse beneath his breath in another language. Suddenly, Dr. Crane’s hand grabs onto her hip, pushing her up onto the bed on all fours. Once in position, he got up behind her and spread her thighs, using his hand to guide himself into her from behind. She whimpered against Hannibal’s cock in her mouth as she felt Crane spear her open. The warm ache of being stretched by him simply spurred her on. She slowly widened her jaw, taking Hannibal deep while Crane set a punishing pace. Hannibal gripped a fistful of her hair while Jonathan grabbed onto her hips with both hands. 

  The heavily cushioned room acted as soundproofing, muffling the lewd sounds of flesh against flesh and desperate, animalistic moans as the trio selfishly chased after their own orgasms. The fact that she was fully nude while both men were still clothed made her blush all over. She belonged to them both, and each man stood his claim. Her throat tightened around Hannibal’s cock as she tried to scream. She was utterly overwhelmed, her mounting orgasm causing her to rock back against Jonathan’s hips in search of that sweet release. It didn’t take long before she was seeing stars, but neither man had relented. The overstimulation was beginning to ache and she was reduced to a twitching, whimpering mess. 

“No no,” She heard them say. “You owe us this. You played us, and now it’s our turn to have fun.” 

The sweet torture did not last much longer, and she soon felt Dr. Crane coating her insides with his own release. He shakily bucked against her as he finished, paralyzed by pleasure, he let himself grow soft inside her. Dr. Lecter came soon after, spilling his seed down her throat and holding her head flush against him, forcing her to obediently swallow it all. 

“Good girl.” He gasped. 

“We’ll take good care of you.” Said Jonathan.

“You won’t want for anything.” Added Hannibal. 

She merely nodded in agreement, accepting whatever terms as long as it meant safety and pleasure in their arms. 

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