#the satisfaction of this being exactly 100 words

[houseofaegon]

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 3 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit and very possessive, kinda dom!wally, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: this is part 3!! part 1 and 2 are linked below! thank you so much for the love!! I'm so glad you guys liked this small series. I'm so sorry I took so much to finish this oh my god. university has been killing me lately lol but here is part 3! i might make more one shots like this with wally cause I love him so much.

Word count: 2209

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn, again - noah cyrus.

masterlist. part 1. part 2. part 3

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Your entire body trembled as his fingers moved harder, faster, making your entire world narrow to the feeling of his fingers against your aching core.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath coming in gasps, but you didn’t answer.

You couldn’t. Not when you were falling apart in his hands.

Not when you felt so good pressed against him.

So fucking good.

"And now, baby?" His tongue brushed over your lips, slowly. "Now you're gonna find out exactly what happens when you push me too fucking far."

The water swayed around you, rippling from the way Wally had you pinned against the smooth tile of the pool’s edge, his body pressed so tight against yours that there wasn’t a single inch of space left between you.

His breath was hot against your lips, his fingers working you in slow, devastating circles. Your body trembled against him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"You're shaking, baby." His voice was dark, thick with satisfaction, his free hand gripping your hip so tight. "And I've barely even started."

You dropped your head back against the wall, a desperate whimper falling off your lips. He was teasing you, holding you right on the edge, his fingers slipping lower, pressing, dragging, barely dipping inside of you before pulling back—just enough to make you lose your mind.

More. Please, God. More.

“Wally,” you gasped, hips bucking against his hand, a desperate pleading sound.

But he only chuckled, dark and rough, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “No, no. You don’t get to rush me. Not after everything you’ve put me through. You’re gonna take everything I give you, exactly how I fucking want.”

His fingers pushed in deep, stretching you, making you arch against him, a broken moan slipping from your lips. He swallowed it with his mouth, his kiss rough, messy, nothing but teeth and tongue and desperation.

And then—he slammed his fingers inside you.

You cried out, back arching, water splashing against the pool’s edge as his fingers curled, dragging slow, torturous strokes along your inner walls, his thumb pressing deliberate circles against your clit.

Oh my god.

“Wally,” you gasped again, this time more desperate, your entire body tightening as heat coiled low in your stomach. “I can’t—I’m gonna—”

But he didn’t stop.

“Gonna what?” His voice was pure sin, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “Come all over my fucking fingers? Soak my hand while you scream my name? Say it.”

A sob tore from your throat as pleasure ripped through your entire body, making you convulse, your legs trembling. Your moan was so loud he clamped a wet hand over your mouth, groaning as he felt you tighten around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he growled, his forehead pressing against yours. “That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl.”

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Before you could even catch your breath, he dragged his fingers out of you—slick, messy—lifting them to your lips.

“Open,” he ordered.

And when you obeyed, sucking his fingers deep into your mouth, his eyes darkened, his cock throbbing against your stomach. He pinned you tighter against the tile; he panted against your skin. His fingers still in your mouth, your tongue lapping at them hungrily, and fuck—he felt it. The heat, the desperation, the way you sucked his fingers deeper like you were trying to drive him insane.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmured, voice wrecked with lust, his free hand dragging up your thigh, squeezing, gripping, spreading you open beneath the water. “You look so good like this. So desperate. So fucking mine.”

His fingers slipped from your mouth with a wet pop, trailing down your chin, smearing your juices and saliva across your skin. He gripped your jaw, forcing your head back against the tile, his eyes devouring you.

"You wanted to tease me?" he rasped, his voice low. "Wanted to push me until I fucking broke? Well, baby—”

His fingers trailed down your throat, over your collarbone, until he was cupping your breast, rolling your hard nipple between his fingers, making you gasp. He pinched, just enough to make you whimper, to make you need more.

"You like pushing me, don't you?" He gripped your breast tighter, his thumb flicking over the hardened bud, making you arch against him. "You like watching me lose my fucing mind over you."

"Yes," your voice a breathless mess, but you still smirked, your eyes filled with lust. Oh, you were loving this. You loved seeing him like this. Feral.

His growl was dark, dangerous, with pure need. His other hand moved lower, spreading you again under the water, his fingers teasing, pressing, torturing.

"You love this, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, making you shiver. "Love making me want you. Love knowing you drive me fucking insane."

His fingers ghosted over your soaked folds, barely touching, just enough to make your hips jerk. Your body was on fire, every nerve screaming, every part begging for more. He knew it. He could feel your body trembling in his arms. And still, he didn't give in.

He wanted to teach you a lesson.

"I could do whatever I want to you right now," he whispered, his lips dragging along your jaw. "And you'd let me. Wouldn't you, baby?"

You swallowed hard, nodding, breathless. "Yes. Fuck—yes.”

His smirk was sinful, dripping with possession. “Then say it.”

Your mind was a mess, wrecked, clouded with nothing but him. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest. “There you go, baby, such a good girl.”

His fingers pressed harder against your entrance, teasing, circling—but not pushing inside. You whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate, needy.

“Poor baby,” he cooed mockingly, his tone dark, so damn cruel. “So fucking desperate. You need me, don’t you?”

“Please,” you whimpered, your body trembling, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Wally—please.”

"Please what, baby? Use your words."

"Need you inside me." Your voice was wrecked, raw with desperation.

He tsked, shaking his head. “Not good enough.” His fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, dragging slick, lazy strokes against your soaked folds. “You need me where?”

You groaned in frustration, your head falling back against the tile. “Inside me. Deep inside me. Please.”

"That's better," he murmured approvingly. "See how easy that was?" He slid his fingers inside you, stretching you open, slow, teasing, his thumb circling your clit in lazy, torturous strokes. “You’re fucking dripping for me. Been waiting for this, huh? For my cock to fuck you until you're begging for me to stop?”

Your entire body trembled, heat coiling low in your stomach, overwhelming, unbearable. “Yes—fuck—please.”

He pulled his fingers out, making you whimper at the loss, before gripping your hips and flipping you, pressing your chest against the wet tile. His breath was hot against your shoulder, his cock grinding between your thighs, teasing you, taunting you.

“You wanted to play?” His voice was pure sin, dripping with dark amusement. “Now, sweetheart, you’re gonna shut the fuck up and fucking take it like the good girl that you are.” He lined himself up, his fingers digging into your hips. “And you’re gonna fucking thank me for it.”

Then, with one devastating thrust—he slammed into you.

Your entire body jerked forward, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as he filled you, stretched you, made you take every thick inch of him in one deep stroke. The water rippled violently around you, waves crashing against the pool’s edge, your bodies colliding with pure, reckless need.

“Fuck,” Wally groaned, his fingers bruising against your hips. “You feel so goddamn good. So tight, so fucking perfect.”

Your nails clawed at the tile, trying to hold yourself up as he set a punishing pace, each snap of his hips sending a shockwave through your body. He wasn’t holding back—wasn’t teasing anymore. This was raw. Desperate. Dominant.

His lips ghosted over your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin before he bit down, hard enough to make you whimper. “This what you wanted?”

You could barely breathe, barely think. “Yes—fuck—yes.” Every nerve was on fire, every muscle clenched tight, and all you could think was: more, more, more. You needed more.

His chuckle was low, sinful. “Such a dirty girl. Wanted my cock so bad, didn't you? All you needed to do was ask, baby.” He slammed into you again, harder this time, deeper, the force making you gasp. "But you didn't ask, did you, baby? You fucking teased me until I couldn't hold back any longer. You wanted this the entire time, you little minx. Wanted me to fuck you senselessly."

He drove into you again, deeper this time, his cock slamming against your cervix, making you cry out. The force of it made your head spin, your vision blurring at the edges. You felt him, every inch of him, inside you, stretching you, filling you, claiming you, a possessive, almost desperate grip.

“So fucking good,” he panted, his voice rough with need, his breath hot against your neck. He began to move faster, harder, his hips bucking against yours, the rhythm relentless, unforgiving.

Your head lolled forward, your hair falling over your face, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He was pushing you to the edge, driving you insane, and you were letting him, wanting him to.

“Wally,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea, a raw, untamed sound.

"You like it like this, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. He pulled out, making you whimper at the sudden loss, his hands manhandling you with such ease, turning you around so that you're looking right at him, his eyes dark and possessive. "Fuck, baby. You take me so fucking well." He grabbed your thighs, lifting them a little bit more, and slammed inside you again, deeper this time, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his fingers gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, dilated, filled with a raw, feral hunger that made your heart pound against your ribs. "Look at me while I fuck you, while I make you mine."

He began moving harder, each thrust deliberate and powerful, his eyes locked on yours.

"Tell me you're mine," he commanded, his voice rough, his grip tightening on your jaw. "Tell me you belong to me, baby. Please."

"Yours," you gasped, your body arching against his. "Only yours."

“Come for me, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with desire, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. “Give it to me.”

And you did. Your body clenched around him, your muscles spasming, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over you, making you see stars, a raw, sensual ache. You cried out his name, your voice echoing in the night, your body convulsing around him.

He groaned, his own release building, his thrusts becoming frantic, desperate. He slammed into you one last time, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm, the feeling of him spilling inside you, hot and thick, made you whimper.

He collapsed against you, his weight heavy, his breath ragged and uneven. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just held each other, breathing heavily, the silence broken only by the sound of the water lapping against the pool’s edge.

Then, slowly, he pulled back, his eyes searching yours. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his gaze intense. “What did we just do?”

He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, a gentle, almost hesitant touch. "Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice softer now, laced with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice, your breath still catching in your throat. "I… I don't know," you whispered, the words barely audible. "Are you?"

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not... But I think I'm okay with that." He paused, his gaze searching yours, looking for any signs of guilt, regret, or even fear. "God, you feel incredible," he murmured. "I think I might be addicted to you."

"We shouldn't have done this," you whispered.

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and intense. "Maybe not," he admitted softly, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. "But fuck, I can't regret it. I don't, baby, I promise. Not even for a fucking second."

"Wally," you whispered, your voice trembling. "What if we just ruined everything?"

He leaned closer, his forehead gently resting against yours. "Then we'll figure it out. And we'll do it together." His voice softened, yet the intensity remained, a promise buried deep in every word. "You're not losing me. No matter what happens, I won't let this break us."

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart ache and flutter all at once. Your fingers traced along his jawline, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. "Promise?"

His gaze darkened, serious and unwavering. "I promise. I promise. I promise. God, I swear," he murmured fiercely, sealing the promise with a lingering kiss. "It's you and me, baby. Always."

[darlingsfandom]

what’s mine is mine !

pairing: emperor geta x fem reader!

summary: Geta has met his match.

tw: public fucking, p in v, unprotected sex, nipple play, jealousy , cream pie! Mention of hairy pussy! That’s not really a warning because hairy pussy is 100% natural and valid ! Not proofread.

Rome, the city of beauty, romance and lust the place you’ve called home since birth has expanded further than anyone could ever imagine including yourself , but over the last few years you’ve been feeling like it’s not what you need anymore. You need more!

The city was busy as always as you walked around on the cobble stones holding the bottom of your tunica with a smile on your face. Everyone knew who you were but never dared to challenge you. They would smile and nod. You were the grand daughter of one of the men in Geta and Caracallas senate and that’s how you found yourself constantly wondering around in the palace drawing the twin emperors attention. It was no shock that the two would fight over you but you never gave them the satisfaction.

As you walked back into the palace after your usual morning stroll you stumbled across Geta standing there looking out at the streets below.

“My Emperor.” You nodded your head before bowing just enough that he could catch a glimpse of your breasts. Geta straightened his posture and held his head high almost looking down at you. You placed your hand over your heart and gave him a gentle smile , but little did he know what was lurking behind your lips.

“And just where have you been?” Geta asked as you went to walk away.

“Out for my morning walk, as I do every morning MY emperor.” You spat on the word my making sure he understood that you meant business. Just like Geta, you were also a selfish, crud human being however you were able to mask the ugliness in a way that no would ever suspect. Geta walked up to you, gripped the side of your throat and made you look into his enraged eyes. His nostrils flared as your eyes softened.

“Try again.” His grip on your neck tightened making you gasp. His ears perked up to the sweet little sound. “Because you know that I know exactly what goes on in my empire.” He spat back at you.

“Fuck you Geta.” You spoke quietly since he had a grip. Geta raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Fuck me? FUCK ME? How dare you! You’re nothing more than a senators grand daughter…”

“Who was birthed from Venus herself! And raised as if Pluto himself was still around! You don’t dare mess with me Geta.” You gritted your teeth before shoving him with what strength you had left. Get scuffed at you before rolled his eyes.

“And you seem to forget that the gods speak to me! I am emperor!”

“That you share with your brother! You could never be an emperor on your own!” You huffed rubbing your throat before you felt your back against the wall as Geta shoved you backwards. His hands quickly gripped your wrists and pinned them above your head.

“Now I know you’re a sweet girl, what has you so worked up you dare tip toe the line to disobey me?” His nose rubbed against yours making you soften a little bit. Both of you stood silent looking in each other’s eyes. He could see the temper boiling behind them making him turned on.

“What’s mine is mine Geta! You are mine!” You lunged forward making Geta chuckle until he realized how what you just said was true. “I gave you my virginity many moons ago! Our souls are connected and you can not deny it. The fact I have to even say it like that makes me want to cry. The fact I witnessed you looking at a whore the way you look at me… what if I had looked at Caracalla the way I look at you? You’d have my head cut off in a second!” Anger boiled in your voice as your hands gripped onto his arms making him whimper a little since your nails were digging into his soft flesh.

Geta couldn’t deny what you were saying, he could easily have your head cut off but he also wouldn’t actually hurt a hair on your head. He was secretly soft for you and loved actually making love to you, yes fucking you was just as good but you were more than that, no one else was allowed to touch you the way he did. The issue between the two of you is that you’re both so stubborn but the difference is that you are actually acting upon your feelings for Geta. He stepped back and reached out to stroke your face as if you were made of glass. You titled your cheek into his hand.

“You my beauty, have no reason to be so jealous of such a common whore. I do not love her, she was a sight to look at. You, you’re a goddess and you know that. You are mine and only mine!” Geta ran his thumb over your bottom lip while you felt tears roll down your cherry cheeks.

“Then love me like you meant Geta! No more whores around the palace! No more staring at them until your brain is no longer functioning! If I am yours, then I want you to announce it to the gods themselves !” Your words were heard as Geta grabbed your face and kissed you hard. The kiss was nothing like you’ve felt from him before, it was making your stomach feel full of butterflies and your thighs clench together all at once. His lips moved away from yours so he could place his forehead to yours and look into your eyes.

“My beauty, I will do more than tell them and not just the gods, all of Rome will know who you belong too!” Geta pulled on your hand and took you out to the balcony. The people below stopped what they were doing when the heard the sound of Geta clearing his throat to speak but he did not say a word! You furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion as Geta put his hand on your back, pushed you over the edge enough that everyone got a good look at you and the crowd gasped when they realized it was you. As if the gods were actually watching, the sun poked through the dark clouds and illuminated your figure. Anxiety ran through your veins but your face would never show it.

Silence. Complete silence as Geta stood there holding you close until he opened his mouth.

“I will make this clear as I can so that no man will ever lay a finger upon MY beauty!” His words made you clench around nothing but your cheeks turned even redder by the second. Geta stood behind you , untied your tunica and let it fall exposing your naked body making the crowd gasp. “A true beauty shaped and birthed from Venus herself and she belongs to me. No one shall harm a hair on her head nor shall they try to make love in way to her, if anyone shall try then you will be meeting the gods sooner than you’ve thought.” He placed his hands on your breasts and massaged them slowly, rolling your hardened nipples inbetween his fingers while his lips kissed along your neck making sure to suckle on the delicate skin that made your eyes roll back.

Geta did not care who watched as he ran his fingers down your body until he reached your hips. He moved his lips along your shoulder as he moved his hands to your plushy thighs and spread them apart. His fingers trailed along your hairy folds. A soft moan escaped your lips as his finger slowly slid inside of you. Geta moaned at how wet you already were. The fact that he could easily fuck you in a public place and every other nasty kink you had made him feel proud. His finger slowly moved in and out of you making you bite your bottom lip to which Geta squeezed your cheeks with his free hand and made you open your mouth. You were melting into his touch.

Geta smirked as he leaned in and spit into your mouth making the crowd below you make mixed noises. You swallowed eagerly and Geta county deny how attracted he was to you. Who on earth would allow something like that? But that’s why he was attracted to you. His finger pulled out of your wet cunt and slipped into your mouth. You sucked softly on his finger as he spread open your legs, bent you over the railing and worked on lifting up his on tunic. His cock was leaking with milky pre-cum, the feeling of his wet head rubbing against your hairy folds made you moan around his finger until he pulled it away and wiped it on your cheek. You smiled until you felt the head of his cock pushing inside of you.

“Geta!” You whimpered as he eased into your warm hairy cunt .

“That’s it , tell them who is pleasing you so well!” He gripped onto your hips tightly as he pushed his cock all the way in making you grip the railing until your knuckles turned white. Geta groaned at stretching you out, the way you were mumbling below him made him close his eyes. He waisted no time in bottoming out before he railed you over the railing. The sound of his balls slapping against your wet cunt echoed to the people who were still watching below. A few of those people were also touching their bodies as Geta took no mercy on your cunt. You were a whimpering mess until Geta wrapped his arm around your waist and held you up straight so he could play with your nipples while his cock pounded into your cunt.

Sweat covered your skin as Geta praised how good you feel. His fingers twisted your nipples making you yelp at first before he pulled on them. His lips attacked your neck with kisses while his hand reached down and pressed his finger against your clit to rub it fast. The added pleasure had your knees buckling as your orgasm rushed inside of you.

“Geta , Geta , please , I … oh I feel..”

“I know you do, I can feel how wet you’re getting, how hard you’re squeezing me! Show them! Show them how good you’re feeling, let it go.” Geta whispered into your ear and nibbled on your ear lobe which sent you over the edge.

“GETA!” You cried out as your orgasm ripped through your body, making your knees shake and in a surprise your body was in a state of pleasure that you actually squirted against his cock, soaking him and Geta was beyond pleased. You were the first one to ever orgasm like that for him.

“What a beautiful sight!” He couldn’t hold back his own orgasm and groaned out as his cum shot into your cunt. You could feel him filling you up. The warm sticky liquid dripped down your thighs since he had such a big load. Geta used his fingers to scoop his cum up and shove them into your mouth that was panting. You suckled greedily as Geta stood behind you with a satisfied smirk while the crowd below cheered.

“Let it be known that what’s mine is mine and she is mine!” Geta clapped his hands as he did a loud boom of thunder sounded making him smirk. Geta got exactly what he wanted and so did you. You stood up slowly as he admired the number he did on you. Your neck was covered in purplish marks , cum covered thighs and pupils blown, a true beauty in his mind a beauty that belonged to him.

[byoldervine]

Writing Tips - Beating Perfectionism

1. Recognising writing perfectionism. It’s not usually as literal as “This isn’t 100% perfect and so it is the worst thing ever”, in my experience it usually sneaks up more subtly. Things like where you should probably be continuing on but if you don’t figure out how to word this paragraph better it’s just going to bug you the whole time, or where you’re growing demotivated because you don’t know how to describe the scene 100% exactly as you can imagine it in your head, or things along those lines where your desire to be exact can get in the way of progression. In isolated scenarios this is natural, but if it’s regularly and notably impacting your progress then there’s a more pressing issue

2. Write now, edit later. Easier said than done, which always infuriated me until I worked out how it translates into practice; you need to recognise what the purpose of this stage of the writing process is and when editing will hinder you more than help you. Anything up to and including your first draft is purely done for structural and creative purposes, and trying to impose perfection on a creative process will naturally stifle said creativity. Creativity demands the freedom of imperfection

3. Perfection is stagnant. We all know that we have to give our characters flaws and challenges to overcome since, otherwise, there’s no room for growth or conflict or plot, and it ends up being boring and predictable at best - and it’s just the same as your writing. Say you wrote the absolute perfect book; the perfect plot, the perfect characters, the perfect arcs, the perfect ending, etc etc. It’s an overnight bestseller and you’re discussed as a literary great for all time. Everyone, even those outside of your target demographic, call it the perfect book. Not only would that first require you to turn the perfect book into something objective, which is impossible, but it would also mean that you would either never write again, because you can never do better than your perfect book, or you’ll always write the exact same thing in the exact same way to ensure constant perfection. It’s repetitive, it’s boring, and all in all it’s just fearful behaviour meant to protect you from criticism that you aren’t used to, rather than allowing yourself to get acclimated to less than purely positive feedback

4. Faulty comparisons. Comparing your writing to that of a published author’s is great from an analytical perspective, but it can easily just become a case of “Their work is so much better, mine sucks, I’ll never be as good as them or as good as any ‘real’ writer”. You need to remember that you’re comparing a completely finished draft, which likely underwent at least three major edits and could have even had upwards of ten, to wherever it is you’re at. A surprising number of people compare their *first* draft to a finished product, which is insanity when you think of it that way; it seems so obvious from this perspective why your first attempt isn’t as good as their tenth. You also end up comparing your ability to describe the images in your head to their ability to craft a new image in your head; I guarantee you that the image the author came up with isn’t the one their readers have, and they’re kicking themselves for not being able to get it exactly as they themselves imagine it. Only the author knows what image they’re working off of; the readers don’t, and they can imagine their own variation which is just as amazing

5. Up close and too personal. Expanding on the last point, just in general it’s harder to describe something in coherent words than it is to process it when someone else prompts you to do so. You end up frustrated and going over it a gazillion times, even to the point where words don’t even look like words anymore. You’ve got this perfect vision of how the whole story is supposed to go, and when you very understandably can’t flawlessly translate every single minute detail to your satisfaction, it’s demotivating. You’re emotionally attached to this perfect version that can’t ever be fully articulated through any other medium. But on the other hand, when consuming other media that you didn’t have a hand in creating, you’re viewing it with perfectly fresh eyes; you have no ‘perfect ideal’ of how everything is supposed to look and feel and be, so the images the final product conjures up become that idealised version - its no wonder why it always feels like every writer except you can pull off their visions when your writing is the only one you have such rigorous preconceived notions of

6. That’s entertainment. Of course writing can be stressful and draining and frustrating and all other sorts of nasty things, but if overall you can’t say that you ultimately enjoy it, you’re not writing for the right reasons. You’ll never take true pride in your work if it only brings you misery. Take a step back, figure out what you can do to make things more fun for you - or at least less like a chore - and work from there

7. Write for yourself. One of the things that most gets to me when writing is “If this was found and read by someone I know, how would that feel?”, which has lead me on multiple occasions to backtrack and try to be less cringe or less weird or less preachy or whatever else. It’s harder to share your work with people you know whose opinions you care about and whose impressions of you have the potential of shifting based on this - sharing it to strangers whose opinions ultimately don’t matter and who you’ll never have to interact with again is somehow a lot less scary because their judgements won’t stick. But allowing the imaginary opinions of others to dictate not even your finished project, but your unmoderated creative process in general? Nobody is going to see this without your say so; this is not the time to be fussing over how others may perceive your writing. The only opinion that matters at this stage is your own

8. Redirection. Instead of focusing on quality, focusing on quantity has helped me to improve my perfectionism issues; it doesn’t matter if I write twenty paragraphs of complete BS so long as I’ve written twenty paragraphs or something that may or may not be useful later. I can still let myself feel accomplished regardless of quality, and if I later have to throw out whole chapters, so be it

9. That’s a problem for future me. A lot of people have no idea how to edit, or what to look for when they do so, so having a clear idea of what you want to edit by the time the editing session comes around is gonna be a game-changer once you’re supposed to be editing. Save the clear work for when you’re allocating time for it and you’ll have a much easier and more focused start to the editing process. It’ll be more motivating than staring blankly at the intimidating word count, at least

10. The application of applications. If all else fails and you’re still going back to edit what you’ve just wrote in some struggle for the perfect writing, there are apps and websites that you can use that physically prevent you from editing your work until you’re done with it. If nothing else, maybe it can help train you away from major edits as you go

[whateverloomis]

What if you did a Billy x reader x Stu where they’re like IN LOVE in love w reader but the readers just super oblivious and when they kill their girlfriends readers just like “oh shit I’m next” but they confess they’re love also reader could be gender neutral

(I’m sorry if this sucks I am NOT good at requests)

Don't worry anon, it's totally okay! I feel like I got way too dramatic with this lmao, but we need a little bit of drama to spice things up once in a while :P

Warnings: Hopelessly romantic Billy and Stu (lol,) stalking, mentions of murders, touchy feely Billy and Stu, kissing (nothing too intense here,) unedited

Word count: 1.3k

Reader: GN, no pronouns used

Casey, Tatum and now Sidney. You're most likely next. No, you are next, 100%. Why would the ghost face killer spare you? You're part of the friend group and you sure as hell aren't special. At least that's what you told yourself, but Billy and Stu thought different.

They were both painfully in love with you. They couldn't handle having anyone trying to hit on you and steal you from them. They were possessive and with each day it got even more intense and fucked up.

They's kill whoever showed any kind of romantic interest in you. It was unbearable to know there was someone else other than them who felt for you.

Billy loved to follow you to your house and make random apparitions when you least expected it. He thought it was so adorable when you did that little jump when he scared you.

"Billy! You scared me!" You said after gasping.

"Aw I didn't mean to." He said, eyes dark with amusement.

You looked around, anxiety evident since he triggered your fight or flight. What if there was someone else following you? What if the killer's stalking you without you realizing it? If Billy, your close friend who you could easily recognize could do it then a masked killer could do it too. You were terrified.

"It's okay I... Can you walk me home? It's getting kinda dark already." You asked and Billy smirked. He got exactly what he wanted.

"Sure thing."

•

Somewhere along the way he placed his hand around your waist while you guys walked. You didn’t think much of it since he obviously didn’t mean anything by it, so you thought. Instead, you expressed to him how scared you were because of the kills taking place in Woodsboro. It had been months since your friends were slaughtered and you got pretty good at suppressing your emotions and continuing your life semi normally, but it still got to you inevitably from time to time.

Billy and Stu were your primary source of comfort. After the kills took place they didn’t waste any time and became as close to you as they could.

“I understand your worries and fears, YN. Really, I do, but…” he trailed off. Billy didn’t want to exactly dismiss your words, he just wanted to play around with them a little bit so everything was in his and Stu’s favor.

“…but you have me now. Me and Stu. We’ll protect you no matter what. You’re safe, I promise.” Billy reassured and smirked in satisfaction once he felt you relax under his shoulder.

“You’re right,” you said softly as you climbed up the stairs to your front porch.

Billy stood in front of you, one step lower and leaned against the wooden rail. He looked into your eyes and for a second your heart skipped a beat, but you blinked quickly and looked away, composing yourself.

Billy is undeniably attractive but you couldn't go there, plus there was no chance in hell he'd be interested, so you brush any weird feelings away.

"You home alone tonight? I can keep you company if you'd like," the boy suggested and you definitely wouldn't have minded one bit. Being home alone wasn't your favorite thing especially after the murders. Much less being alone an entire week thanks to your parents being away on a work trip.

You hesitated for a moment, not knowing if it would be best to be alone or with someone in the house. What if Billy got killed instead of you? Or worse, what if you both got killed? In your own home? The irrational thoughts ran wild and Billy could see that you were lost in them.

"Hey" he said softly and grabbed your hand reassuringly, secretly seeking more physical contact with you; "It's okay if you don't want me to-" - "No, no it's not that I just..." you trailed off when you felt Billy touch your cheek with his free hand, looking into your eyes. Was he going to kiss you? It definitely looked like he was, but the boy got interrupted.

"What's up kiddos!? We having a party at YNs?" Stu broke Billy's moment as he approached from behind. The boy bit his lip in annoyance and glared at Stu as he made his way towards you and hugged you tightly, lifting you up in the process.

You inevitably giggled at his playfulness and placed your hands on his chest as he set you down.

"C'mon! Let's have a movie night or something! You got popcorn here?" Stu asked excitedly and you nodded. His cheerfulness made the idea sound perfect, so you took his offer and invited the boys in.

•

"Ugh, why is there always a lowkey love interest in horror movies? Everyone is gonna die anyways." You said related to the film you were watching.

Billy craned his neck to the side and looked at you, lifting an eyebrow in intrigue; "Why wouldn't there be? It makes things more interesting." He said and Stu hummed in agreement, lost in the sex scene that was taking place on the screen.

"Well, yeah but what's the point? Honestly." You replied and Billy gave you a confused expression.

"I mean, have you ever been in love? If you analyze it, it does make sense." Billy said and you thought for a second before replying; "Mm, no. I don't think I ever have."

At your words Billy shifted on the couch to face you completely. Stu paused the movie, too shocked to continue watching the film.

"Are you serious?" Billy asked and Stu looked at you in shock, his head resting on Billy's shoulder.

"No. It's not a big deal guys. Plus, nobody has ever been in love with me either so it doesn't really matter."

The boys tensed up at your words. Were you really that oblivious? The tension, the touchiness, the compliments, all their love languages spilled on you wasn't obvious enough?

"What if I told you that you're wrong?" Billy asked, his voice soft.

"The signs have been in front of you the whole time, YN!" Stu said, losing his patience.

You couldn't read their expressions or understand what they were trying to say. Were they admitting that they both love you? There was no way that could be true, right?

"Wh- What are you guys saying?" You asked and Billy had enough of your games, even though you had no idea they felt challenged by you.

The boy leaned in and kissed you. His hand immediately fell on your thigh and you couldn't help but kiss him back.

Stu stood up and sat behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and placing kisses on your shoulder.

You felt chills all over your body at the sensation of both of their lips on you. You never thought you'd ever be in this position, much less with your best friends. The only ones left after everything. The only ones who were there for you.

Your emotions were overwhelming. You were confused, excited and turned on all at once. Maybe you have feelings for them too and didn't even realize it.

"You don't know how much I've been waiting to get my hands on you." Billy whispered against your lips and kissed you a few more times before continuing; "Show you how much I feel for you... Fuck, how much we both feel for you." He bit his lower lip and kissed you again.

You moaned into Billy's mouth, his words were so promising. So real.

"Mhmm." Stu hummed softly in agreement next to you; "It's been driving me crazy, YN... Both of us." He continued and turned you around. It was his turn to kiss you now. You played with each other's tongues and moaned softly into each other's mouths before he finally said it; "We love you." He kissed you once more before continuing; "So fucking much." He finished as he squeezed your sides in excitement.

Billy wrapped his arms around you from behind, his limbs resting above Stu's; "So... So much, baby." He whispered in your ear and you just about melted.

You had so much to figure out. So much to address with yourself and so much confusion circling in your head, but all you could think about was how much you wanted them. How much you needed to feel them and explore their feelings further. How much you needed Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Only Look At Me CE: Nica Schwartz

*Nica is calling Kate “robin” in German. Hence, each time he uses German, I will use quotation marks to denote that going forward in the story.

** Nica is calling Kate (robin) in English for this specific line. In other words, he is using the normal (komadori).

***The translation says "opposite" of him, but context suggests Kate is sitting next to him. That's how I interpreted it anyway.

This is a fan translation only. Not 100% accurate, so please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Dividers: @/adornedwithlight. Thank you for your support! ☾.

On my way home from submitting my report, I was stopped by an unexpected person.

Nica: Hey there, Miss.

One of the Vogel twins stood in front of me.

Kate: Is something wrong?

Nica: Actually, I got lost, would you mind showing me around?

As I nodded in surprise, his almond-shaped eyes narrowed.

Nica: Thanks. 

Kate: No problem, so where are you headed?

Nica: The chambers we’re staying in, you know the way right?

Kate: Of course, it’s this way!

I pointed down the hallway and started walking, with him chuckling as he followed from behind.

Nica: Meeting you here, seems like I’ve still got it. 

(I’m little wary because of what Harrison said.)

(He’s easy to talk and doesn’t seem like a bad person.)

Even though I know they’re lying somehow, I still don’t know if it’s a bad lie.

(It’s not good to judge someone before you know them.)

We arrived in no time as I walked and thought this.

Nica: Thank you for your help, “Robin.”*

Kate: “Robin”?

Nica: It means “Robin” in German.

Nica: Doesn’t Crown call you, robin?**

Nica: Hence, “robin”.

He sat down and looked at the empty seat opposite to him.***

Nica: Won’t you have a seat?

Kate: Huh?

Nica: Let’s have a chat while you’re here. I’d like to ask you about work and other things.

Despite my being nervous that we were alone, he propped his chin on his hand.

Nica: Besides, I’m interested in you.

Even though he was smiling, his eyes pierced me like someone who’d caught his prey.

As I slowly sat down, he smiled in satisfaction while calling a maid for some tea.

Nica: Well then, should I introduce myself again?

Kate: Oh, please do.

Nica: I’m Nica Schwartz, the staff officer of Vogel, an organization under the direct command of the Emperor of Germany. 

Kate: What exactly does a staff officer do?

Nica: I gather information, and support Dari in various ways by using my brains.

Nica: Details are a confidential.

Nica: Oh, by the way. You can call me Nica. There’s no need to call me ‘Mister’.

Kate: Okay then, Nica.

His smile deepened as I called his name, and then he pointed at me.

Nica: Right, now it’s your turn.

Kate: I’m Kate, a Fairytale Keeper. There’s several reasons why I got this job, but I used to work as a postwoman.

Nica: Hmm, then you’re well-informed about the roadways?

Kate: That’s right! We delivered all over London, so I could even guide you.

Nica: That’s great, next time I’ll ask you to show me around the city.

His words interrupted me as I reached for my teacup.

Nica: What kinds of things do you do as a Fairytale Keeper?

Kate: My job entails accompanying Crown activities and recording what happens.

(In reality, there’s a lot more to it than that…..)

I don’t want to say anymore than that because I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk in detail.

Nica: But you’re just an ordinary person aren’t you? Isn’t it dangerous?

Kate: The Crown members have promised to protect me.

Nica: Really….

He seemed to be thinking about something while listening to me speak, which made me feel a bit uncomfortable, but that feeling disappeared when his expression suddenly brightened.

Nica: You’re the verrry cute “robin” of Crown.

Nica: You’re cherished.

Kate: That’s n….

(It’s true that they treat me with respect but……)

It all started only because I witnessed them conquering evil with evil,

(I desperately didn’t want to die, which led me to where I am now.)

If I hadn’t said anything then, I might not be in this world now.

Nica: Dari probably wouldn’t like it, but it might be fun if Vogel had a Fairytale Keeper back home.

Nica: Oh, but Ring wouldn’t do well.

Kate: Wouldn’t do well?

Nica: Ring’s my twin brother, but unlike me, he’s doesn’t socialize with others too well.

(It’s true, the first time we met, he gave off a cold impression….)

While I was thinking of our first encounter, Nica looked into my face.

Nica: What, are you curious about Ring?

Kate: No, that’s not it…..

Nica: My - that’s. Don’t do that.

He put his finger to my lips, and he smiled with extreme charm. 

Then we talked about trivial everyday life, and before I knew it, the sky had turned deep red.

(It’s already that time….)

When he looked at the clock, his eyes widened in exaggeration.

Nica: Wow, it’s already this late. I guess it’s time to part ways.

Kate: Well, it’s was nice chatting with you.

Nica: Same here, let’s do it again.

I stood up, thanked him for opening the door, and was about to leave the room.

Kate: What?

He grabs a lock of my hair and places his lips upon its tips.

Nica: Until next time.

Even when my lips parted I was speechless.

Nica: Oh, did you forget your way home? 

Or do you want to stay locked up with me and not go home?

His inciting tone made me realize that I had been taken lightly.

(For Nica, this conversation was a wait-and-see thing, and if he got serious -)

-Then he could easily steal my heart.

Kate: Please, excuse me.

With my cheeks suddenly becoming hot, I started to run not caring if there were other people around.

Nica: Bis Dann (Later), “Robin”.

Before my heart is stolen by him.

As I lay on the sofa, my younger brother entered with a gaunt face.

Nica: What is it, did you get lost again?

Ring: Yeah….it’s so large that I couldn’t tell where I was.

Ring sat on a chair and sighed.

Ring: I wish I could memorize the layouts of buildings as quickly as you do Nica……

I laugh at his words.

Nica: It’s possible to get lost on “purpose.”

Tag List: @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @sh0jun @letter-from-afar

Dividers: @/natimiles [Master List]

Can't wait to tear this MF up /aff. GIMME!

[feralwritings]

dissonance

part three

words: 4.2k

“I don’t care what he is, Gareth,” She cuts him off, “I’m just trying to get through this tour, okay? Corroded Coffin wasn’t exactly my idea of a good tour mate, but we play the cards we’re dealt, and I’m playing nice, aren’t I?” Gareth looks like he wants to retort, but she quells him with a stare and he raises his hands in surrender, the glowing bud of his cigarette waving through the air as he does. He turns to go back into the hotel, and she hears the sliding doors open, and then close. “He doesn’t hate you. I think you should know that.”

masterpost

taglist: @cam-peggio each notif you get for this fic must be a shock considering they're so spread out but i appreciate ya all the same hon

The arena in Phoenix is cold and empty when she walks into it, meandering towards the stage from the labyrinth of seats before her. When she finally reaches it, she clambers up, leaving her feet to dangle over the edge as she pulls out her phone.

This was the rehearsal space that Corroded Coffin had chosen for her to learn the song and practice it. They had a few options, seeming to narrow down on one. The one that she hoped beyond hope that they don’t choose, but judging by her luck, those lyrics are going to be ripped from her throat either way.

She’s here early, of course, alone in the quiet for a while. It’s almost peaceful, mostly haunting, looking out upon the rows of seats, thinking that she sees a phantom sitting in one before her eyes adjust, and it’s gone. Dealing with paranoia was never her strong suit, and she’s staring up at the nosebleeds, swearing that there’s movement up there when the stage rumbles below her.

She turns, seeing the boys wheeling equipment and instrument cases onto the stage. Eddie’s in the rear, and she smiles stiffly at each one as they pass by, allowing her smile to fall fully when Eddie looks at her.

She stands, quietly watching as they unload their gear, plug various cables into various panels, Joey, Jeff and Eddie tuning their guitars while Gareth adjusts the foot pedal for his kickdrum, giving it a few tests before nodding in satisfaction, drumming out a little fill, general rehearsal stuff.

And she’s there, in her hoodie and sweats, standing awkwardly downstage, waiting for them to tell her to do something, or even speak to her.

Of course, it’s Eddie who finally does, adjusting the height on his mic stand as he looks over at her, “We brought an extra mic, if you need it.”

She pulls out her own from her bag, waving it a little as she connects it to the soundboard, wired as opposed to not, easier to deal with for just a rehearsal.

“So,” she says, approaching Eddie, dragging a stand behind her, setting it a few feet away from him, as she slips her mic into the clip, “What song did you choose?”

There’s only a couple songs that feature another vocalist, and among those, none feature a female vocalist, so she can’t really think where she might fit into all this, if she can at all. The label said this might not work, it could end up being a one-off, something that she never has to do again.

“People love nostalgia, so we’re choosing one from our earlier years,” He says, bending to dig some lyric sheets out of his guitar case, handing them to her.

She reads the name at the top of the page, and her blood runs a bit cold.

It’s the song. The song that propelled them to stardom, the song that got them signed to a bigger label, the song that broke containment out of their sub-genre and reached the world at large, the song that sat at 86 on the Billboard Hot 100 for a month straight.

“You’re kidding,” She whispers, running the tips of her fingers over the printed ink, “You want me to sing this? With you?”

Eddie tilts his head at her, his brow furrowing, “Yeah, we haven’t performed it in a few years, thought it was time to bring it back around.”

She stares at him. She loves this song. Always has - even after everything went down, this was the song that she couldn’t quite manage to delete entirely from her library, simply removing it from her most frequent playlists, but it would sit there, like an old tome collecting dust. 

One of the reasons that the song broke containment was because of its rawness and vulnerability. The lyrics themselves, though steeped in excessive metaphor, paint a picture of devastating heartbreak. A heartbreak, though asked by every news outlet and interviewer and magazine and just about anyone could get a second with him, Eddie has never discussed. The fact that it's shrouded in mystery makes it all the more popular, superfans scrubbing through Eddie’s past, trying to figure out who it’s about. It starts off slow, building through the first chorus and into the second verse, and by the bridge it’s a cacophony of sound, overlapping bits of Eddie’s voice singing different parts, until they come into one succinct harmony during the final chorus. They haven’t made a song like it since. 

“Alright,” she exhales, “Where do you want me to come in?” 

“Was thinking near the second chorus, leading into the bridge. I could sing the harmony, you can sing the melody.”

Which, again, is a strange choice. Her voice, louder, higher than his will be what people mostly hear, and she doesn’t know if the return of this song, the song with her in it, is what people would even want. 

Eddie’s watching her, seeming to know that she’s mulling it over in her head. He takes a cautious step forward, and she snaps out of it, looking up into his face. 

“Listen,” he says, all tall, voice low, only meant for her, “We don’t have to like each other. Hell, we don’t even have to get along like best friends, but you and I both know this tour is going to suck ass if we’re always at each other's throats.”

She sighs, biting down on her cheek, “Yeah. Let's just…try and behave ourselves, I guess.” 

He nods, pulling his guitar from the case and slinging it across his shoulder. 

“Alright,” Eddie says, plucking out a little tune on the strings before approaching his microphone, “First verse.” 

***

She’s standing in the wings, tired from her own set but shaky about her part in this one. She can hear Eddie in her in-ears, can feel rather than hear the music, and as the lyrics inch closer and closer to her starting point, her heart rate jumps in her chest. 

Rehearsal had gone well enough, they’d decided that she would start singing when she was off the stage, and then walk on stage still singing. It’s a little Disney Channel, sure, but it didn’t really make sense for her to be on stage the whole time, awkwardly hovering by Jeff, waiting until it was time for her to sing. 

When the song had started, she could hear the cheers of the crowd, so loud that they had picked up on Eddie’s mic. He hadn’t really introduced it, just started playing the first few chords, recognizable enough that the crowd’s confused whispers had turned into a roar of excitement.

The second verse was finishing up now, the pre chorus ringing in her ears, Eddie’s raspy voice sending pins and needles down the length of her spine. He was a beautiful singer, there was no two ways about it, and try as she might to find more and more things wrong with him, with his music, with the band, with everything that had anything to do with him, she was coming up short, more and more. 

“Okay,” She hears one of the sound guy’s voices in her ear, Pete, maybe.

”Three.”

She takes a deep breath in.

”Two.”

She raises the microphone to her mouth.

”One.”

She starts to sing.

Her voice comes out stronger than she would’ve expected, higher, louder than Eddie’s like she knew it would be. Their harmony twists around each other, like both strands of a double helix around a DNA ladder, and judging by the way Eddie’s voice skips, he jerks his head to look at her, eyes wide, he’s just as surprised as she is. It didn’t sound like this in rehearsal, because they hadn’t been working together as they are now, off in their own worlds, in their own parts of the song, despite the fact that originally, the bridge was meant to be a cohesive piece.

It’s that way now, and as she walks out on stage, flashing a shy smile in greeting, Eddie holds out an arm in introduction, one hand off the neck of his guitar for a few seconds before it flies back, picking up the chords.

It goes well, considering.

For about thirty seconds.

When her in-ear cuts out, and she can only hear Eddie again, she figures that her mic is still on, and so she figures that she should keep singing, as the bridge is almost over. A quick glance at Eddie tells her that this is not the case, and she raises a finger to her mic in question, and he shakes his head, and then nods for her to come share his.

Which is quite literally the last thing she wants to do. She could just as well share Joey or Jeff’s mic, but they’re not even singing back up right now, and as the few seconds pass before she makes a decision, she can feel a lull in the crowd, and can hear, above all else, Stacy’s voice in her head, telling her to ride their coattails. 

She jogs up to Eddie’s side, having kept her distance from him this whole time. He moves to the right to accommodate her as she stands on tiptoe to reach his microphone, as it’s set just above her head.

She can hear herself again in Eddie’s mic, and she can feel Eddie himself pressed into her side, the neck of his guitar crossed in front of her like the blade of a sword, his elbow brushing against her as he changes chords.

The last few lines of the bridge approach, and her eyes slip to meet his. She can feel his breath on her face, they’re that close, and when the lights strobe around them, she can see the expression on his face in snapshots, apathy, then interest, then a softness that shows in his eyes, the way they half close when he looks down at her mouth, the way that the only thing separating their faces is the microphone between them. 

It’s over half a second later, Eddie’s turning back towards the crowd to sing the final notes of the song, and she slinks off stage in a way that she hopes isn’t obvious. Her job is done, she sang the fucking song, she can leave. 

She’s walking so fast back to Daisy Chain’s greenroom that she missteps and rolls her ankle in her shoe and falls against the wall, panting. 

The searing pain in her ankle is accompanied by a pounding in her chest, so loud that she can hear it in her ears. She sinks to the ground, putting her head between her knees, breathing deeply. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s there, breathing in, out, in, out. It could’ve been minutes or an hour, but sometime later she feels a hand on her shoulder, and jolts, head snapping up. 

It’s Steve. Thick eyebrows drawn together in concern, a small frown on his lips. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, pressing the back of his fingers to her cheek as if to check her temperature. 

“Yeah,” she chokes out, and he helps her stand. She puts a little weight on her ankle and it pounds, but not enough for her to not be able to limp back to the bus and ice it, “Just - got a bit -“

“Overwhelmed?” Steve offers, hand on her hip to steady her as she tries walking a few steps, “You seem to be like that a lot, lately. Is there something going on?”

She considers, for half a second, telling him. Telling him that her career, her livelihood and her passion hangs in the balance if she doesn’t play nice with Corroded Coffin, and with Eddie. That if she isn’t a good girl, that if she doesn’t stay on the marionette strings UDR has her on, she’ll lose the one thing she’s actually accomplished in her life. 

She also considers telling him that playing nice with Eddie is not as hard as she thought it would be, and that she wishes it was harder, so she’d have a reason, a tangible, solid reason to still hate him.

She shakes her head, though, gulping all of this back, “I think it’s just the adrenaline. That crowd was really loud.”

Steve nods, but she can tell that he doesn’t believe a word she’s saying. Despite his reputation for being a bit of a himbo, she’s come to find that he is actually quite perceptive. When she sees him, that is. She can count on one hand the number of times they’ve hung out on this tour, despite being almost a month into it.

He helps her back to the buses outside, and on the journey they talk a little. About the tour, about his music, about a little bit of everything and nothing at all. He’s on in less than 20 minutes, but he makes sure that she gets in okay before speeding away, into the waiting crowd of managers and crew, who all roll their eyes at him, in a fond sort of way.

She sheds what she can of her clothes, grabs a can of soda from the fridge and collapses onto her bed, resting the can between the wall of her bunk and her ankle. She stares up at the ceiling, and right before sleep takes over, she sees that flash of Eddie’s eyes again.

***

Her disappearing act doesn’t go unnoticed. Eddie’s salty about it during load out, tossing cables into his case in a pissy little way, so much so that she clamps her headphones over her head and ignores him for the rest of the day.

The girls had been concerned, telling her that they’d searched all through the venue for her before finally returning to the bus and finding her zonked out in her bunk. She gave a half apology and an even weaker explanation, folding in on herself like she always does.

They drive through the night to get to Santa Fe, having a few days to themselves before the show.

Both bands, and Steve spend this time apart, in their respective buses, and on day two, their hotel rooms. It’s nice to sleep in a full sized bed for once, even if Reader wakes up with Chrissy’s limbs wrapped around her like a koala.

On the third night, the night before the show, cabin fever sets in. It’s late, past 3 am when Reader moves Chrissy’s limbs off of her and pads quietly out of the hotel room and down the hall, tugging a hoodie on as she goes.

She just needs a little air, is all. She walks through the pristine hotel lobby and into the night, which has a chilly bite to it that has her pulling her hoodie closer around herself.

Stucco buildings tower around her. The hotel is situated on a quaint little street, with old fashioned orange street lamps lining the road, bathing everything around her in a warm, amber light that ignites a sad little twinge of nostalgia in her. Home, in Indianapolis, on crisp summer nights, biking home from band practice, throat sore and heart full.

She closes her eyes, the sound of distant traffic playing in her ears. Then, a much closer sound has her eyes flying open.

The click of a lighter sounds somewhere close, and she glances around, feeling an unearned and slightly misplaced terror that Eddie is lurking somewhere in the shadows. Her eyes eventually fall on a much shorter figure, and Gareth steps out of the alley between the hotel and adjacent building, and even from here, she can hear the music that is blaring through his headphones.

He startles when he sees her, eyes growing wide as he comically jumps back. She raises an eyebrow at him and he quickly collects himself, pulling his headphones off to rest around his neck before looking at her again.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asks, in a would-be casual voice, but there’s a distinct undertone to it that makes her mouth taste a little sour.

“Not really. Chrissy is like a furnace.”

He murmurs something around his cigarette, something that sounds a little bit like lucky but she can’t be too sure.

“What’s her deal, anyway?” He suddenly asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Is she like,” He makes a vague gesture that she has no idea how to interpret, “Single?”

Reader bites back a grin and shakes her head, “Nah, she’s got a guy back home. They’re crazy about each other.”

She can tell he’s trying not to look devastated, and a little pinprick of pity sparks in her chest before she remembers that she doesn’t like him, then it goes from sad to pretty funny.

“What about you? Or Nancy and Robin?”

“Robin and Nance have been together since they were seventeen. Me? None of your business.”

He seems to know that none of your business means that she’s as single as the day is long, and it's his turn to feel pity or vindication, whichever one he wants.

It doesn’t show on his face what he does feel, expression made carefully blank. He takes another drag off his cigarette and turns his gaze towards the street.

“Eddie’s been pretty pissy since Phoenix,” He says, rather suddenly, eyes darting to her before they dart back toward the road.

She was afraid of the conversation veering into this territory, not wanting to think about or talk about Eddie, as much as she could help.

“Boo-hoo,” She deadpans, “Not my problem.”

“He’s not as bad as you think,” Gareth turns towards her now, eyebrows scrunched together in a display of earnestness, “He-”

“I don’t care what he is, Gareth,” She cuts him off, “I’m just trying to get through this tour, okay? Corroded Coffin wasn’t exactly my idea of a good tour mate, but we play the cards we’re dealt, and I’m playing nice, aren’t I?”

Gareth looks like he wants to retort, but she quells him with a stare and he raises his hands in surrender, the glowing bud of his cigarette waving through the air as he does.

He turns to go back into the hotel, and she hears the sliding doors open, and then close.

“He doesn’t hate you. I think you should know that.”

The doors open again, and she’s left standing there, in the chilly night air that just got about ten degrees colder.

***

She’s frenetic tonight, never staying in one place too long. She’s gone up to the barricade more than once, allowing several hands to grasp around her extended arm, while security keeps a tight hold on her legs to keep her from being pulled under.

Song after song, lyric after lyric, Eddie can’t keep his eyes off her from where he stands in the wings, a post that he’s taken up a little too often as of late. He makes excuses here and there, but always finds himself watching some part of their set before he trudges back to their green room to do warm ups.

He watches in almost indecent fascination as she gears up for the bridge of the song they’re playing, filling her lungs with air.

When the bridge comes, she whips her guitar around her body on the strap, so that it’s slung across her back. She seizes the microphone and rips it from the stand, the honeyed tones of her falsetto reverberating across the venue. A slow drum line builds as she sinks to her knees, and the lights go crazy, turning the sweat droplets that cling to her skin into a thousand tiny jewels, sparkling as brightly as the shimmery eyeshadow packed onto her closed eyes. The crowd goes fucking wild as she tilts her head back, hair cascading like the branches of a willow tree down her back. 

Fuck, Eddie thinks, watching her from the side of the stage, watching as her brow furrows, watching as she bangs her head in time with the whine of the electric guitar riff that Chrissy’s shredding out.

She’s back on her feet again, slipping the microphone back into the stand, bringing her guitar back to her front, fingers sliding across the neck as she strums the rhythm section of the final chorus, grinning into the microphone as she sings, hips swaying to and fro, the curve of her ass peeking out from underneath her skirt as she bends at the knees a little. 

She’s so fucking pretty. She is so fucking pretty and Eddie can’t breathe. When the song ends, and she honest to god giggles into the microphone, the noise being amplified and echoed around the venue, and Eddie can’t help but feel like this whole thing has been specifically designed to make his knees weak. 

“Wow!” She exclaims, tossing a couple picks into the crowd, “Thank you so much! That tune is one of my favorites, and on almost every stop on this tour, it's gotten a bigger and bigger response.”

Robin drums out her agreement, and Reader looks over her shoulder with a smile, before turning to the audience again, introducing their next song.

And all Eddie can do is watch. He watches her dance to the beat, smile to herself, watches her fingers fly lovingly across her guitar. She’s a little firecracker when she’s on stage, always in motion, and it’s so electrifying, so fucking endearing that Eddie feels the hair on his arms stand up when her shimmering, graphic liner gaze falls on him for a millisecond. 

She sings about love. She sings about sex, about nostalgia and about the ocean, sings about the minutiae of human experience and heartbreak, each lyric captivating and masterful, tugging at the exact right parts of the brain, evoking what feels like a million different responses in Eddie, from skipped heartbeats to a tightening in his jeans to a hot sting in his eyes, and he can’t quite take it anymore. 

Corroded Coffin is next, he knows that, but he - fuck, he needs a minute. He ducks away from stage right and heads to their green room, pouring out a shot of whiskey and downing it, hands clenched around the edge of the vanity, head bowed towards his chest. 

It’s mystifying that this girl, who’s capable of such vitriol towards him, who avoids him at every turn, who has nothing but contempt for him can reduce him to this with lyrics and vibrato and sweetness reserved for no one else but the crowd in front of her. 

If he has to stand smushed against the barricade, metal digging painfully into his skin as sweaty bodies press into him to catch even a little bit of that sweetness, to catch a stray smile, he’d do it.

Which is so fucking ridiculous that it pisses him off. He’s got people knocking down the door for even a chance to fuck him. He could go out there right now, flash a smile at anyone and would probably end up getting his dick wet for it, a hot mouth against his. 

But he wants her, and it is infuriating, because he knows, he fucking knows that it’s never going to happen. She wouldn’t want him even if he was the last man on planet earth. 

He supposed this is what he deserves for that throwaway comment, and the utter lack of humility to go to her after, through text or DM or pull her aside as she walked into UDR, tell her that he’s sorry, he’s so fucking sorry and not only that, he’s an idiot, a callous, selfish idiot that had eyes and ears for nothing else but his own band, his own success, so much so that he was willing to step on her neck get ahead. 

If only he had known - fuck. How talented she truly was, would it have made a difference? Even if she sucked, even if her band couldn’t hold a tune it still wouldn’t have mattered, it wouldn’t have made that comment okay, in any way shape or form. 

It’s retroactively humiliating, but he knows, as he glares at himself in the mirror, hating himself, that his humiliation is nothing to what they’d done to Daisy Chain. 

He's so wrapped up in his self-loathing spiral that he doesn’t really register that the music warbling through the walls of the venue has stopped. He only comes back to his senses when the door opens and peels of laughter seep into the room, the clunk of platform shoes proceeding the girls, save for Robin and her keds, all smiling and sweaty.  

Reader’s eyes land on him first, and her smile disappears in an instant. 

Up close, he can see her makeup running a bit, can see the tired sorta droop to her eyes and he can smell her perfume mixing with her sweat, which normally would’ve been kinda gross but in this instance, sends his brain into a tailspin worse than it already had been.

Chrissy speaks first, “I think we have the wrong room.”

They do, as the bands were afforded separate green rooms, the one that Eddie’s standing in presenting a distinct lack of everything the girls own. 

They all file out after Chrissy’s proclamation. All except for Reader. 

She’s staring at Eddie, eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“Are you…” She hesitates, shifting her weight from foot to foot, “Alright?”

How uncharacteristic. Up until now, Eddie was under the impression that she truly didn’t care if he lived or died. So, it’s somewhat shocking that she’s displaying even a shred of concern for him, even if it looks like the words taste sour in her mouth. 

“Yeah,” he manages, straightening up, “Yeah, I’m good, thanks.”

She nods curtly, “Good. You’re up, by the way.” She jerks a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the stage. 

And with that, she’s closing the door with a snap, leaving him alone.

[redkissesandhearts]

Dungeon Master - Dungeon Crawler Carl Fic

Okay. So this shouldn't exist but it does anyway. Daddy AI x Carl.

Kinks/Warnings: Feet (did you expect anything else), voyeurism, non-consensual feet, dominance/submission, humiliation, daddy-kink, and masturbation

Theme songs: D/S by Mr. Strange & Global Citizen, Sky High by Angelspit

Dungeon Master

This fucking sucked.

Carl hadn’t gotten a single decent drop from an achievement in ages. He was beginning to lag behind Donut, who had suggested that she split up their party for a single day so that he could grind without her. So she was waiting in a safe-room, but constantly sending him worried messages through chat.

Deep down, he knew exactly why this was happening.

The AI that ruled the dungeon was a vicious beast. It was a selfish, childish maniac that craved destruction and self-satisfaction, which was weird and irrational for a machine. All that he knew is it had some sort of strange, fucked up fascination with his feet.

He felt dirty and disgusting from pleasing the machine, and had fervently refused to continue. Ignoring his buffs that required bare feet, refusing to use any stomp attacks. And the AI was punishing him through negligence and passive-aggressive messages.

Achievement Unlocked! Cock block

When they talk about ruining an orgasm, they are talking about you. Daddy is beginning to get pissed off.

Reward!

Bitches don’t get rewards.

Just another example of the pissed off machine’s inane ramblings. Carl ignored them, focusing on level-grinding. But it was as though each creature that he felled was doing nothing to level him up.

He was having terrible luck. Every hit that he normally dodged with ease was directly hitting him, causing much more damage to his HP than it normally should have. By the end of what should have been an easy battle, his HP was already cleaved in half.

God, he was glad that Donut wasn’t here to ask uncomfortable questions.

Carl was stubborn, however, and he refused to play these fucked up games.

“Do you hear me?” He yelled at the ever-listening AI. “Keep being a pissbaby, but I’m not going to give in.”

Achievement Unlocked! Stubborn Little Bitch.

Fine, have it your way.

Reward!

Everlasting poison debuff.

“What the fuck?” He paused. This was beginning to become ridiculous. The machine was straight-up cheating at this point, it wasn’t fair.

None of this was fair. This was the downside of being the AI’s pet, incurring its wrath if he went against its perverted wishes. But Carl had never agreed to these fucked-up terms.

-15 HP.

He anxiously looked at his health, noticing that it had gone down. Stupid fucking machine, he growled, and used a potion to cure the poison.

-100 HP

What the fuck?!

With horror, Carl looked at his health and noticed that it had dropped more than halfway from him using the potion.

That shouldn’t be happening, what the fuck was going on?

Anxiously, he tried a stronger healing potion that he had been saving. It should cure all poisons.

-100 HP.

As his health plummeted, he immediately slammed a healing potion. A horrifying feeling was beginning to crowd him, and he felt his chest tighten.

-20 HP.

The hit points continued to tick downward. They were increasing by increments of 5, and he knew that he was soon going to die. Healing potions were in short supply, and none of his potions were working. He waved off desperate messages from Mordecai and Donut asking what was going on, and prayed that nobody was watching this humiliation.

Unfortunately he knew what he had to do.

“Fine,” Carl hissed, gritting his teeth. “What do you fucking want?! What will it fucking take for you to stop cheating?”

The AI immediately responded in the only way that it could, giving him another pointless achievement.

Achievement Unlocked! The Carrot or the Stick

You know what I want.

Reward!

No reward for disobedience.

The cards were all on the table, Carl knew. He was this machine’s toy. He could feel its self-satisfaction, the smugness in its words. Ever since the creature went primal, everybody was a slave to its urges. Nobody was coming to save him, nobody could fight back.

So he had to grit his teeth and bear it.

“Fine,” He repeated. There was a strange, sinking sensation in his stomach, like a dominated dog backed into a corner by a stronger beast. He found a private area, near a wall, and sat down after he was certain that nobody else was in the vicinity.

If anybody saw this, he would happily crawl into a hole and die.

Carl swallowed as he undid the laces on his boots, which he had taken from another Crawler who had begged him to cover up his feet. In a fit of rebellion against the AI’s foot fetish, he had gladly obliged. That was when the experience cap and his troubles had begun.

He pulled off his socks next. It was an odd sensation to wear them, anyway, after being barefoot for so long. But he hated how familiar the cold ground felt against his soles.

“There.” He said.

-25 HP.

“I did it,” He scowled, glaring at the sky. “Cure this fucking debuff!”

-30 HP.

It came faster, as though telling him that this wasn’t enough. Demanding that he make up for his insolence with a true show for the AI.

Carl’s face flushed. He had never done something like this before – the idea would have been laughable. But there was something different about being forced to do this by a machine. Even something as innocuous as a foot massage made him feel dirty and used.

He carefully massaged his feet anyway, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The dungeon rumbled with a small moan, which made him clench his teeth. But he focused on his feet, on the arches, and the soles, and even the delicate toes. Giving the horny machine the show that it demanded from its favorite pet.

Achievement Unlocked! Who Let the Dogs Out?

Ohh, yess, that’s what Daddy likes.

Reward!

Keep going and maybe you’ll get a reward.

“K-Keep going?” Carl stuttered, and immediately hated himself for being embarrassed. This machine was literally whoring him out, as though realizing that it finally had him exactly where it wanted. It seemed to enjoy breaking him, forcing him to comply. His balled fists were shaking with anger.

“How the fuck am I supposed to keep going? What else could I possibly do?”

Achievement Unlocked! Idiot

You’ve clearly never done this before. Maybe if you listened better, you could learn something.

Reward!

Put them on the wall.

Put them on the wall?

Carl stared, dumbfounded, at the wall in front of him.

Put them on the wall? Like, put his feet on the wall and sit in some idiot yoga pose, in an L position?

Well it had to be better than massaging his toes.

He hated himself, but he complied.

“There. Knock yourself out.”

Achievement Unlocked! Sky High

Good, now I can see them better. You’re good at following directions when you actually listen.

Carl dug his nails into his palm.

The AI’s annoyed, condescending voice finally flipped back into the horny, deeper voice that it usually used for these scenarios.

Reward!

Now touch yourself.

“What?!” Carl had expected anything but those words. “Touch myself? What the fuck? No! I’ve had enough of this, you fucking creepy machine!”

-100 HP.

He felt as though he had been stabbed, immediately slamming a healing potion.

-100 HP.

-100 HP.

-100 HP.

The hits were coming faster than he could heal – his health dipped dangerously into the red. Chat was blowing up with concerned messages, which he desperately swiped away.

He was going to die.

He wanted to die, rather than go through with this.

But he couldn’t leave Donut alone.

“Fucccck,” Carl hissed. He had never stooped so low as this before, but he didn’t have a choice.

Trembling, his hand snaked into the heart-patterned boxers and he pulled out his cock. It had been ages since he even thought to jerk off, and the chances of getting laid in a dungeon when your only party member was a cat were non-existent, so he was… very sensitive.

Knowing that the AI was watching only made him more sensitive, squirming under his own touch. He heard a strange noise, as though the dungeon were quite literally holding its breath.

Gnawing his bottom lip, Carl anxiously began to palm himself, rubbing his hand up the length of the quickly-developing erection. He was mortified at how easy this was, how quickly he was becoming hard.

A soft moan filled the air.

But this wasn’t enough. Carl knew that.

He kept going, giving in to the feeling despite himself. It had been so long since he had a release – so long since he felt this kind of pleasure. And the AI’s voyeuristic gaze was only making him harder, to his humiliation. Especially when he accidentally wiggled his toes and its moaning got louder.

Carl accidentally let a moan slip from his own mouth, when he felt himself getting close. Lying on his back, with his legs extended up the wall and his bare feet facing the AI, he was face-to-face with the movement of his hand, with the precum leaking from his dick, as he whored himself out to the lecherous machine.

He moaned again, the movement of his hand growing faster and faster, until he couldn’t control himself anymore and he came. He came, and it spurted right into his own fucking face.

The entire dungeon shook like an earthquake, with the loudest moan that he had ever heard from the AI. Whatever equivalent that thing had to orgasming had also just happened, and the thought haunted him.

He hoped that nobody in the dungeon knew why the machine had just fucking come.

Carl sucked in a deep breath, focusing on stilling his breathing, wiping the cum from his eyes and lips. Humiliation was beginning to sink in, making his hands shake with mortification.

Achievement Unlocked! Daddy’s Little Princess

Wow. I didn’t know that you had it in you.

Reward!

A cigarette!

Carl felt another wave of mortification wash over him as a single cigarette and a lighter appeared in front of him, the AI’s final mockery of the situation.

And, god damn it, he immediately grabbed the thing and lit it up, taking a desperate drag.

Achievement Unlocked! Good Boy.

Was it as good for you as it was for me?

Reward!

Everlasting poison debuff cured.

Reward!

Platinum Whore Box

Reward!

Advanced Pedicure Kit.

Reward!

Now go stomp something to death and maybe I’ll give you a Celestial Box.

.

Carl cleaned himself up as best as he could, but he didn’t think that he would ever psychologically recover from that situation.

His experience immediately skyrocketed back to a level that made sense. He rejoined Donut with a flushed expression, struggling to act as though nothing at all had just occurred between him and the AI that made it clear that it was his master.

Donut looked frenetic, almost bowling him over.

“Carl! What happened?!”

Before he could respond, he checked the urgent message that he received from Zev.

Zev: Oh my god, Carl what did you do? Your view count just hit 99 trillion!

Carl’s mouth immediately went dry.

Oh… oh my god.

He had forgotten that the entire universe could see what he was doing.

Fuck.

[caesariawritesstuff]

Ok I'm sorry but I have to do this! Is there anyway we could get a small continuation of that Scarecrow x Detective short story you wrote? Maybe how Ed would react to hearing that Jonathan did something to the Detective? Or just noticing her acting off afterward? If not that is 100% ok!

Precious Heart

Summary: After learning about Detective's conversation with Jonathan Crane, Edward isn't too happy, and makes an effort to confront Crane himself. Continuation of the short fic, Damaged Goods.

Content Warning: Angst & Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Minor spoilers for Cat & Mouse

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This fic is a continuation of Damaged Goods, and currently not canon to the official Cat&Mouse!Verse storyline.

Right about now, you could scream.

The sensation lingered in the back of your throat, building and building as you stormed down the hall from the morgue. Rage rushed through you as hot as dry lightning, sparking a fire deep in your belly – and a strange, lingering warmth between your legs.

Because here you were, suddenly turned on by Jonathan Crane.

Scowling, you threw a glance over your shoulder as you stopped in front of the elevator, glaring back down the hall. Bastard, you thought, a dozen curses ringing through your mind. How dare he put his hands on you? Slowly, you reached up, your fingers grazing across the question mark pendant dangling around your neck, resting at the delicate hollow of your throat. You could not believe the interaction that just happened, and you found yourself replaying it over and over again in your head, on repeat, a never-ending loop.

If there was one person in this damn precinct who had become an anomaly to you, it was Jonathan Crane. Never had you expected a man like him to be given a chance at reform as well, especially considering the fact that he’d caused so much chaos and destruction three years ago – but you supposed you could understand why City Council would want him to help on this case. Even you and Mack were completely and utterly stumped, out of your minds about who else in this damn city could be developing a horrifying toxin capable of melting people’s bodies from inside out. The thought sent a tremor of fear through you – and you cursed yourself under your breath again, at the very prospect of being afraid. Because deep down, you knew that’s exactly what Crane wanted you to be: scared. Fearful. Terrified. And you would not give him that satisfaction; you’d been through enough in the last few months, and you were not willing to let the Master of Fear get under your skin.

With a heavy sigh, you took the elevator back up the Homicide Divisions floor, but as the numbers ticked by as slow as ever, you caught a glimpse of your reflection on the wall: your wide eyes, flushed cheeks, the small pout to your lips. A strange sensation bubbled in your stomach, hot and writhing, causing an uncomfortable knot to form there. You had not expected the entire interaction with Crane to be…heated. Or for him to have such an effect on you, one you weren’t even sure you were even processing clearly. All you really knew was that that familiar pulsing of warmth throbbed in your clit, and it had been caused by a man who was, perhaps, one of the most terrifying people you’d ever met.

There had been something cold in his blue eyes, even though the right was damaged and milky, but the way he looked at you – studied you from head to toe as if you were a science experiment – wasn’t what bothered you. Neither did the white scars all across his skin, remnants of his reconstructed face, a stark change to the man who was hauled into the GCPD three years ago, completely out of his own mind on fear toxin. What bothered you was how easily he’d approached you, grasping at the pendant around your neck with care, asking you such blasé questions about your relationship with Edward. Questions even you had asked yourself over the last few months – because Crane was right. You did not know what a man like Edward Nigma had come to see you in, why he’d fallen for you, and Crane’s questions only furthered your own. But what you could not understand was why he cared so much to ask them – and why he seemed so content to believe you were ruined for anyone else, all because Edward had touched you, lied with you, had claimed you as his own. You were not ruined, and you would not let Jonathan Crane or anyone else think otherwise.

“Bastard,” you mumbled under your breath again as the doors opened and you stepped out, taking a quick glance around at the detectives and officers milling about. The room was buzzing with voices and chatter, phones ringing off the hook, you quickly made your way back to your desk, sitting down with a heavy sigh. You lowered your face into your hands, pain throbbing at your skull, spreading across your temples.

Shit. This wasn’t good – you should not let Crane be getting under your skin like this, or feel so…well, you weren’t sure what you were feeling right about now. Rage. Irritation. Annoyance. Pleasure.

Crap. The way he’d circled around you, a predator analyzing its prey, the way he’d grasped your pendant and stroked it at with his fingers – something about the entire movement caused your clit to ache. What was it about men like Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane that had you feeling such utter draw to them? Maybe you were beginning to realize that you had a type.

And, as much as you couldn’t help it, you found your thoughts beginning to wander. What would it have been like if Crane had bent you over that morgue table and had his way with you, fucking you into oblivion, his hand wrapped your throat as his cold, raspy voice whispered dirty things into your ear?

“Shit,” you whispered, but just as the words escaped your lips, a mug of coffee was set beside you. You glanced up to find Edward standing there, his own mug of coffee in hand, and he smirked at you, eyes studying you with slow intention.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the mug, but a heartbeat of guilt passed through you. You were with Edward for God’s sake – why were you thinking about another man?

Edward’s eyes narrowed, as if he immediately could sense something was wrong, and his gaze roved over you, making the skin prickle on the back of your neck. “Is something wrong, detective?”

“No, nothing,” you said quickly, the lie heavy on your tongue – but by the way Edward’s brows furrowed, you knew he didn’t believe you. Of course he didn’t. Why was he so capable of reading you? You averted your gaze, quickly taking a sip of coffee, and burned your tongue.

Edward crossed his arms. “Come now, detective,” he sighed. “Tell me what’s happened.”

You looked up and around; Mack was gone from his desk, and everyone else was far too busy involved in their own cases to be bothering to listen to you. Sighing, you gestured for Edward to sit, and he took the empty chair at the desk beside you, waiting for you to continue.

“So…Jonathan Crane is…interesting,” you finally said, choosing your words carefully.

Edward quirked a brow, leaning back in his chair. “Did he say something to you?”

You were silent for a beat, but you knew there was no point in lying. “Well...I was down in the morgue when the power went out. We had an…interesting talk.”

“About?” Something cold laced Edward’s voice, curiosity in his tone.

“My relationship with you.”

Edward was quiet for a long moment, long enough that you could tell he was thinking through every possibility that such a conversation entailed. Finally, he sighed and asked, “And what did the good doctor say?”

“He…” You looked away, biting slightly on your bottom lip as you struggled to answer his question. The last thing you wanted to do was have Edward go storming down to the morgue and throwing a fit in a jealous huff.

Finally, you looked back at him. “He just wanted to know about us. You know, how long we’d been together. That kind of thing.”

Edward blinked. His face was like stone, a passive statue of emotionless. Finally, he smiled, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “Well, can you blame him? Why wouldn’t he be curious? After all, you’re with me – the smartest, most handsome man in Gotham. It’s only natural for him to be curious about a relationship which is so great that he cannot even comprehend.”

“So great, huh?” you asked, unable to fight the smile threatening to curve at your lips.

“Of course, my dear. You’re with me, remember?” His grin didn’t faulter, but he leaned forward slightly. “And I am the best partner, the best lover, you could ever ask for. No need to deny it, detective, we both know it’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes, a small laugh bubbling out of your chest. Well, at least his ego was still intact – you did not think that was one thing that could ever be taken away from Edward. But as you turned back to your desk, content to pour over the case files, another heartbeat of regret pounded in your stomach, spreading like wildfire through your bloodstream – but there was something else, too, something raw and real and terrifying that you did not want to admit.

Because, deep down, you knew that Jonathan Crane was right.     

Edward had completely, and utterly ruined you.

?

If there was one thing Edward come to learn long ago, it was that Jonathan Crane was a very deliberate man. He did not ask questions without purpose, without trying to learn something about someone, without trying to find their weakness or exploits. The man was a manipulative bastard, but he supposed he could say the same about himself. Perhaps that’s why they got along so well over the years. While Edward had often found himself at odds with the likes of Penguin and Two-Face, it was Jonathan whom he retained the closest thing to a friendship.

So having him here at the GCPD was quite the surprise – one that had even Edward questioning Jonathan’s own motivations for why he would accept a similar deal from City Council. But so far, Edward had been far too busy with his own tasks to find a moment to slip down to the forensics lab and have a moment to speak alone with Jonathan – until now.

A knot of uncertainty bundled in Edward’s stomach. It had been clear that you’d been hiding something from him when retelling your conversation with Crane, but Edward hadn’t pressed further – he wanted to hear the details from Crane himself. Clearly, he’d must have asked something to get under your skin. Probably some silly thing about fear or terror or whatever else Jonathan found so interesting, but Edward hadn’t wanted to press you too hard on the matter, not when you’d looked so shaken up. So as he walked down the hall and slipped into the medical examiner’s office, he narrowed his eyes, immediately finding Crane sitting at counter, filled with vials in an array of colors, lab equipment organized neatly around him. Dr. Collins was gone, thankfully, allowing Edward the privacy he needed, and he stepped into the room.

Jonathan swiveled around in his chair, his mouth opening slightly as if to ask something, but he quickly shut it when he realized it was Edward standing there. His cold eyes were narrowed, stoic, not an inch of emotion written across his face.

“Crane,” Edward said, stepping further into the room.

“Ah, Edward,” Jonathan said, his voice gravelly, cold, a raspiness to it. “I was wondering when you’d honor me with your presence.”

Edward smirked, but wandered over with slow, calculated steps. “Oh, you know,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand. “The Commissioner just loves to keep me busy. I hardly get a moment to myself in this place.”

Jonathan turned back to his vials, humming under his breath. “It must pain someone with such intelligence like yourself to be reduced to working in a place like this.”

Edward shrugged, but leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, only a foot away from where Jonathan worked. “It has its perks,” he said, his thoughts straying to you. You were the only reason this place was bearable in any capacity.

Jonathan’s cold gaze slid to him once more. “Ah, yes. Your…paramour. I take it she told you about our conversation?”

A muscle feathered in Edward’s jaw, and he met Crane’s gaze. “No. But I’m here to hear it out of your own mouth, Crane. What exactly did you say to her?”

Jonathan shrugged in indifference, once more turning back to the chemicals at hand, making a few notes on a pad of paper. “I was simply curious to the nature of her relationship with you. I’ve never known you to take interest in such primal desires, Edward. What is it about her that fascinates you so?

Edward frowned. There were many, many things that fascinated him about you – the way you carried yourself, spoke, the fire that burned so brightly in your soul that refused to dim, considering all that happened over the last few months. The way you tolerated him, laughed at what he said, gave yourself to him so wholly and completely. The problem wasn’t the answer to the question – the problem was why Jonathan wanted to know.

“What does it matter to you, Crane?” Edward asked, his voice low, concerned. Because he knew when Crane became fascinated with something, fixated on it, he would not let it go.

And if he was becoming fascinated with you…

Jonathan turned back to him again. His scarred lips were pursed into a thin line, but he finally set his pen down and rested his hands on his knees, leaning slightly back in his chair. “I’m simply curious, is all, Edward.”

“She’s not some science experiment you can pick apart,” Edward said, his tone testing.

Jonathan blinked at him, as if what Edward said hadn’t phased him at all. “You care quite a bit for her, Edward,” he said finally after drawing out the silence for a long moment.

Edward shifted slightly, gritting his teeth. “And? Your point?”

“An observation. You and I both know she’s simply your newest obsession, Edward. What will happen when you tire of her?”

Edward’s eyes narrowed into slits, and he frowned, staring down at Crane as hot anger pooled in his stomach, prickling across his skin. Yes, he knew the truth: you were his obsession. The thing he needed, wanted, craved at all hours of the day. But he did not imagine he would ever tire of you. You were like a drug to him, his addiction. And the truth was that he had come to a point where he could not imagine the rest of his life without you in it.

“Or, perhaps, when she tires of you?” Jonathan continued.

“An absurd insinuation,” Edward said, a bite in his voice now. How could you ever tire of him? He was the World’s Greatest Everything. There was not a universe in which you could ever tire of him, Edward was sure of that.

“Come now, Edward,” he said. “No need to be so testy. However, I’ve heard the rumors. People around here like to talk. I know what they call her, what they think of her. When you do tire of her, when you’ve thoroughly ruined her for anyone else in this city to want – what will she do then?”

Edward bristled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “I don’t see why that’s any concern of yours, Crane,” he said, but his lips twisted in a smirk. “Why? Does it bother you that someone like her would be with someone like me?”

A flame ignited in Edward’s belly, a sick satisfaction twisting there. Of course Crane had to be jealous of his relationship with you. After all, Edward was just that much smarter, much more handsome, much more great. Crane could not compare to him one bit. Edward was everything and better – and he planned to hold that over the man’s head at every turn.

“Not at all,” Jonathan finally answered. “She is your paramour. You do what you like with her. All I intended was to get to know her, understand why a detective like her would with someone like you.”

Edward bristled at Jon’s words, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. “Well, Crane, my capacity for self-improvement has grown well beyond what you’re capable of. Watch and learn, and you’ll be just fine.” He smirked at that, a sense of triumph racing through his chest.

“Of course, Edward,” Jonathan said, his voice low and cold. “You are this city’s picture of reform. I will do my best to follow in your footsteps.”

Edward’s smirk grew. “Good. I need to get back to work. Have fun with your chemicals, Crane. Try not to sniff your own toxin too much.” He turned on his heels, giving Jonathan a lazy wave, and headed back down the hall with confidence in his step.

But as he walked, his steps began to slow, and uncertainty twisted in his stomach. Now that he was alone in the silence, Crane’s words began to wash over him. His mind was spinning with questions, wondering why Crane would bother talking to you in the first place – and just what else he might have said that you could be hiding from him. Well, he’d just have to keep a careful eye on Crane, then. Whatever was brewing in the man’s mind, Edward intended to find out. But if it involved you…

Edward’s hands curled into fists. Crane could find you fascinating all he liked, but he would not allow you to become an experiment in his twisted little world of fear. He refused to let that happen – and if Crane asked you one more question that was out of line, Edward would not hesitate to put Crane in his place. If Crane was planning to use his toxin on you, Edward would shove his own toxin in his mouth before he had that chance.

Oh, yes, Edward was certain of that.

Crane could have his fun in any other way that did not involve you. Because, Edward knew with absolute certainty, he would not allow another man to swoop in and take your attention from him. You were his, and his alone, and Crane would just have to accept that you were with a man like him. He could speculate and theorize all he wanted, but Edward would not allow Crane to get under your skin, to make you question your relationship with him. Not when he finally had you, when he held your heart in his hands.

And he would not allow Crane’s ability to incite fear poison your precious heart.

[romanaxe]

WIP Wednesday: Writing Wrap-up (April-May 2025)

It's that time again for a WIP check in! This weekend will start my busy season so a shorter list this time, but same deal always:

SFW projects above the cut, NSFW below

Unveil Us (Mutual Satisfaction Series Spinoff)

We're gonna finish up this installment of the series by the end of April! The fifth chapter is about 70% written, and the sixth is only an outline at the moment, but I know exactly what I want to happen and I don't suspect it will be too long (unless my guys get to yapping, which they are known to do so we'll see)

Phony Psychic (Mob Psycho AU)

This is a fun little two shot collab between Floaty (Tanzikat), writer of Much Ado About Muffins, and I. I'll be writing the first part and they'll be writing the second ^-^

My half will be another one of my more humorous/light-hearted fics, so if you like the vibe of Drawn Together or Unveil Us (or your a fan of Mob Psycho 100) you'll like this

I've started writing, but I'm less than 500 words in, so it'll be some time in May? Probably?

Reign In Hell (Freely We Serve Sequel)

I had a bit of a break through with plotting so we're inching closer! Still not to the point that I can start posting chapters but I'm raring to go and start writing once I finish up some of these other WIPs.

Freely We Serve had basically weekly updates, each being about 2.5k words. I definitely don't think I'll be able to meet that pace this time around, but while updates will be less frequent, chapters will (most likely) be longer

Outline ~30% done and climbing rapidly, and 1 chapter has been written. I'll probably start posting once I have the rough outline done and like 3-5 chapters ready.

O is for Obeisance

Cats out of the bag that I was selected for the RadioApple A-Z this year (I still can't believe it tbh). I'll be working alongside Iya (Please go check out their art it's GORGEOUS)

I don't want to give away too much, but this one is for my fellow freaks. And for the non-freaks, if there is such a thing as "entry level piss kink", this is about as close as you can get. There will be no drinking of it (or being filled with it), it is much more on the omorashi/holding it side of things. Think desperation, begging, etc.

And it's also A/B/O with Omega!Alastor/Top!Lucifer

Should I have used this opportunity (being hand selected for a massive project that a lot of the RadioApple side of the fandom will be watching) to write something that has a wider appeal?

Probably.

BUT I AM FIRST AND FOREMOST A DEGENERATE FREAK AND I MUST REPRESENT MY COMMUNITY WITH OMEGAVERSE PISS KINK PORN WITH FEELINGS

Anywho writing has started and I'm about 1400 words into my 10,000 word limit ^-^

Mutual Satisfaction or Rendezvous PWP

Ive got an idea for what I want for both the final part of the Rendezvous series and another Mutual Satisfaction part, but we'll see which one I'll actually write. They're just ideas rn, but I wanted to mention them just in case I get the itch for more smut after O is for Obeisance.

[choicesmc]

23 for Gabe/Fiona!

okay, I am so sorry this took so long. :( see, I was caught between writing something new and publishing something I’d already written. …and I chose to publish something I’ve already written!!

that being said, this one is much longer than 100 words and it’s been in my drafts for months. I’m glad it finally gets to see the light of day :D apologies if it’s slightly off-prompt 😞

warning: nsfw <- it’s the precise moment Gabe realizes he has a cucking kink <3

banner by: @/lunaridae in [this] post

Heavy, paced pants reverberated through the empty apartment, painting Gabe’s ears an ungodly red. A piercing moan followed soon after, dragging Gabe straight to the Master Bedroom. 

Straight to Fiona. 

Just behind the door Gabe could imagine his boyfriend: hands wrapped around his cock, head thrown back with heady moans, sweat glinting off his dark, sweet skin. Gabe clenched his teeth, swallowing down the mental images he’d accidentally summoned.  

Gabe willed his legs to move, struggling to pull himself away from the sweet sin just on the other side of the door. 

“Stop.” 

Gabe’s steps faltered. His heart hammered against his rib cage. Rock-solid authority crashed into Gabe, holding him in place. Making him obey. For a hard moment, Gabe felt Fiona right behind him as he’d been caught doing something wrong. It wasn’t a sensation he particularly enjoyed, no, but it was arousing all the same. 

He couldn’t help but glance back. Just in case Fiona was indeed undressed, leaning against his door frame, level gaze piercing straight through Gabe’s core. Just in case he’d catch a glimpse of Fiona’s lust-clouded eyes dark and demanding or his flushed skin leaving heady blushes everywhere. 

Instead, all he was met with was the heavy, wooden door which, in a way, was worse.  

From behind the door, somehow unmuffled despite the distance, Fiona demanded with power dripping from every word, “I didn’t say you could touch me as you pleased.” 

Those priorly swallowed scenes resurfaced with a tiny twist. Rather than Fiona’s hands pumping his cock, a different hand did that job for him. Fiona was clad in a simple button down shirt and tan slacks, fly propped open letting his dick stand fully erect. 

Imaginary Fiona leaned forward, tilting his partner’s gaze to meet his mocking disappointment. 

“Open wide,” real Fiona helpfully supplied, laying out his orders, pulling Gabe right back to the door, “the height of my thumb should fit between your top and bottom teeth when you’re done.”

Imaginary Fiona pressed his thumb against his partner’s lips, slowly opening their jaw until his thumb fit snugly in the space between. Pulling the other man close, Fiona would guide his cock into his partner’s eager mouth. 

It was about that time that Gabe realized two things; one, the mystery man is his fantasy was not Gabe and two, that only made him more eager to touch himself. 

So that was exactly what he did. 

Pushing his briefs down just enough to reach his cock, fingers gently squeezing his balls, Gabe slowly ran his hand over its length as it inflated suppressing a groan of his own. 

“There we go,” Fiona crooned. Sweet and slowly, like honey dripping off a dipper. Gabe knew that tone. It was satisfaction, approval, appraisal –all rolled into volumes of this one tone. Gabe all but melted when he drew that timbre out of Fiona and this would be no exception.

Gabe let the theatre of his mind roll, imagining all the different things Fiona would do to his partner. The cold, sadistic edge Fiona had tried to keep hidden from him. The domineering facade that Gabe had only ever heard about. All of it came to life behind Gabe’s closed eyes. 

More than that, Gabe watched almost helplessly as Fiona’s perfect sub obeyed his every command. Though Gabe knew nothing of what Fiona’s perfect sub would do, he could hazard a guess. 

His hands would be clasped behind his back, legs spread wide open, cock hard and weeping while Fiona towered over him. Fiona, clothed in shorts and shorts sleeves, hands toying with a cord of rope looking almost disinterested in the suffering before him –Gabe’s hips involuntarily jerked forward, a groan slipping out of him. If he could cum, he would’ve right then and there. Instead, he stilled himself, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the orgasm roll through him.

[user-needs-new-hyperfixation]

Would it be too strange of a request to request you specifically (yes you, hyper, not an x reader) and Sherlock?

I'm thinking you go in for violin lessons, and he's either being extremely pleasant or extremely feral for reasons that you're soon to find out?

(It can be an X reader in all honesty, but I'm very specifically wanting to mess with you and see what happens hehe <3)

Lmao welllllll...I don't know if this exactly counts because it could just be a first person OC but...this is kinda the best I could come up with considering self-insert is so very distinctly not my thing 😅😅 (Also did I say 50-100 words? Apparently I meant 300-500 words lololol)

(Set pre-canon, and for these purposes "I" live in Victorian times too hahah. And this is not self-shippy. it is very platonic. I have my limits 😅)

The second the door to the flat swings open I understand why the landlady had wincingly apologized as she led me up the stairs. The sitting room is, to put it kindly, a disaster. There is a strange chemical tang in the air to complement the mess. I glance back across the hall into the landlady’s mirroring flat and she rather pointedly dodges my gaze. When I’d contacted her about the ad in the paper, she’d agreed to play chaperone by keeping her door open: it might not be enough for some, but as an old maid of independent means, I find myself in the rare and enviable position of not needing to give a damn. I’d expressed as much to her, and she’d giggled charmingly and nodded her understanding.

The man I’ve come to meet is far younger than I’d expected, and exponentially odder. He emerges from behind a haphazard stack of books and bric-a-brac like a gopher from a hole, his hair escaping from the topsy-turvy remnants of a tail and his arms covered up to the elbows in thick leather gloves. He blinks at me as if he’s suddenly discovered a stag standing in his parlour.

“I’m here about the violin lessons?”

“Ah, shite—sorry—Right just lemme’ – Not t’alarm you, but iffya see a purple rat, don’t touch it.”

“Do you…need a hand catching it?”

I can’t say I’m enthused about the idea, but I’ve dealt with enough spiders and mice singlehandedly by now to know how to set aside any jumpiness when needed.

“Erm…” The man turns and rifles through a pile of random items on the sofa, coming up triumphant with a pocket-watch in hand. “Nah. ‘s’been ten minutes. Either it’ll be dead and I can dig it up later, or it’s not as dangerous as I thought and it don’t matter all that much.”

I wonder if particularly nefarious murderers lure their victims in with pretty landladies and advertisements about violin lessons.

“Should I come back another time?”

“No, no! ‘ell, Hudson’s ‘bout to ‘ave me on the street if I don’t bring in this month’s rent. Sorry about all this.” I am relived by at least the acknowledgment of the mess. “Been organizing boxes,” he taps the side of his head as if I should know what that means, “and all this out here got a little away from me.”

The man has a poisoned rat running loose in his flat and a Stradivarius acting as a paperweight and what appears to be a letter from the queen pinned to his mantelpiece with a throwing knife. I should probably leave.

“Why don’t I help you tidy up a bit?”

I’m surprised he allows this, though he does rather hover and fuss over the order of things. In half an hour we’ve cleared the sofa and the dining table and a pathway to every door, and he claps his hands together once in satisfaction.

“Much better, thanks. Now, should me move on to the violin?”

“Yes. But I really must tell you I don’t think it’s pupils you’re in want of.”

“Oh?” He plucks at the strings of the violin idly. “What am I in want of, then?”

I huff, half laughter and half annoyance, brushing lint from my skirts.

“You, sir, are in dire want of a flatmate.”

[crescent-lunatic-wolf]

I don’t know what to call myself in relation to this otherkin/therian/alterhuman stuff. It’s still kinda new and scary TERRIFYING TBH. Half the reason I created this blog was to sort this out, though, so dammit if I’m not gonna try.

Once upon a time, I was a dumb kid with an extremely overactive animation. And I mean extreme. I had an imaginary friend that I could not get to ‘go away’ until i basically had an existential crisis and screamed at him.

Sorry, old buddy, but I was starting real school and I needed to at least look normal. Im sure you understand.

This was just the first of many incidents where I felt obligated to cynically crush my more outlandish thoughts into a ball and stuff them away in a corner forever.

Then later I figured out that I’m trans. A lot of things started to make much more sense after that: why I hated puberty so much, why I felt too ‘soft at heart’ compared to other ‘boys’, why I oh-so-despised how I looked…

That was over 8 years ago.

Now, much more recently, as in within the week at time of typing this, a bunch of old thought patterns kinda cropped up at once. I am certain that this had something to do with the recent super moon, though. I don’t know if it was something I subconsciously did to myself, or if talking about werewolves just unlocked the forbidden corners of my brain or what, but the thoughts are back and hoo boy.

When I was a younger, edgier, egg-ier teen, I loved werewolves, conceptually. The very concept of wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing except its more wolf-in-human-skin was, in a word, rad. I knew it was a mythological, fantastical concept (logically speaking, I still do), but oh my god how cool would it be to be that kinda monster?! I didn’t care how alienated it’d make me (though to be fair I was already kind of a weirdo outcast). Raw meat, hunting animals or even people by the full moon? Cathartic af. That sheer power, to be able to assume the form of a terror of nature, to be one with and at home with the moonlit wood… I would kill* for that level of freedom and… and…

*PAST tense, I’m not exactly a serial killer in the making here

What is that other feeling though? It was good, I know. Almost addictive. Satisfaction? Desire of some sort?

Whatever it was, it felt right. …and that’s exactly why I had to suppress it. I was only setting myself up for heartbreak by pouring my soul into this idea of being/becoming something that, by all means, doesn’t exist.

Once upon a time, I thought I’d never be a woman, either.

So fuck that noise. This werewolf-at-heart is back. I don’t care if its an unrealistic dream/goal/whatever-the-fuck, it makes me happy, dammit! Like on some kinda spiritual level or something.

So yeah. I think that makes me alterhuman, otherkin, and/or therian? I’m not 100% on the distinctions, but I want to find out. I can at least comfort in the knowledge that, clearly, I’m not the only one who feels this way. Hopefully at least some o’ y’all can accept me into the fold.

- C

[yuaiwi]

Day 2 - Power imbalance - Serval

Serval x reader(you POV)

summary: Despite being the ‘out cast’ of her family, her last name still sends chills down your spine. She’s also works with Bronya and tells you that she’ll get you ‘banished’(whatever she means by that) if you start to act up. Then, you can’t exactly say no to her, specially since she also is your boss..

warnings/themes: smut, eating..(r! receive), office fucking, the knee thing(ik u know..), degrading, overstim, some praise, thigh humping, messy(and i mean MESSY) make outs, choking, semi-noble Serval, HELLA tease serval, sweet talk.?, boss to apprentice relation

words: 2.7k

notes: Serval is 100% going to be a tease and is one, she uses the fact you are scared of her family to her advantage. She also uses the fact you are trying to make a living, and the fact she pays you rather well for being a starter against you.

— ✩ 31 day oneshots

You and Serval were in the same line of business, well you worked for Serval and she had a shop in Belobog. She was your boss and teacher so she was teaching you how to make machines and even how she made her guitar. You never really went against her word, she paid you more than what she was supposed to, she allowed you much more off days for whatever reason you threw at her. She was a good boss to say the least, but that was until she began to get touchy and handsy. She would place a hand on your back while you focused on welding or shift you with her hands on your waist, not caring at the way you’d stop for a moment before continuing. She always had that smug smile on her face at how you’d shift under her touch, and if she felt extra bold, she would wrap an entire arm around your waist. She wasn’t like a normal boss at all, she even took you out to eat at times. Even if that seemed a little strange, since she wasn’t so nice, you never actually questioned it. Not until you felt like it was ‘unfair’ considering the fact an actual employee was paid more than you, even if she was doing more than she was legally required to do for you already. She took up the challenge, it made things… interesting now you were testing her authority towards you.

“So…” she starts as she looks down at the papers she has been filing on her, shifting her glasses farther up on her face with a small smile. “You say the payments I’m giving you is.. too little?” she asked curiously while raising a brow, lifting her pen off the paper as she leaned forward. “Well yeah, Marie from electrical engineering is being paid.. almost twice I think it was” you had stated to her almost like a case, arms crossed in certainty you’d be right. That wasn’t how today was going to go, this little trick wasn’t going to play in your favor. “Okay let’s break this down” she said with a soft sigh, her voice growing concerningly softer as she sat back in her office chair. “Come here” she said softly, patting her thigh carefully to motion you over. She saw that hesitance in your face, the way you had faltered in your resolve before then. “Come on now pretty girl, wanna talk big, we’re going to talk like women” she said in more of a firm voice, not leaving much room for you to say otherwise. She saw the way you hesitated a little more, arms uncrossing as she raised her brow again. Her smile only grew at this, now this situation was getting much more interesting with you seemingly getting nervous on her.

“I won’t repeat myself another time,” she had said in a unwavering tone, she sounded like she was upset but she was enjoying every second. “Now come. here.” she said as she made sure to pronounce each word like its own, giving you a look that confirmed she wasn’t going to give you another chance. She hummed in satisfaction as you walked over to her, the sound of your boots filled the room as you made your way around the desk. “Now that wasn’t hard, sit” she said in half-assed praise as she nodded her head, wanting you to sit just like she said. She let you get comfortable on her thigh before she leaned forward, her chest pressing to your back now. She was close, too close, you could feel everything about her and that wasn’t okay. “Now let’s look here” she said as she began to break down your payments, your hours, the supposed to be payments you should have as a trainee and not an employee. She was using a softer tone, her chin on your shoulder as she spoke in a more gentle voice now you were listening to her. You weren’t entirely listening to her, you were too busy trying to actually get comfortable in her lap. She felt suffocatingly close, almost like a second layer of skin while she was trying to explain why you didn’t need a pay raise just because of your excuse.

“I wouldn’t have to tell Bronya about this… issue, would I? I don’t think she’d be all too happy hearing about this” Serval spoke in a sigh as she finally sat back, propping one of her arms on the chair dramatically as she went to hold her head. She knew that snap you out of the daydream like state you were once in, she knew you were. She had switched the topic entirely to see if you’d notice and you didn’t, and she knew how to play her cards. On the outside, she seemed entirely serious with you—but on the inside— she was having the best day of her life. “NO! N-no no, you don’t have to inform her. I understand” you practically jumbled out into a mix of words in panic, you were always afraid of losing this job. The regret that was finally settling onto your face made her smile, god she wouldn’t trade this job for the world. “You sure, because you had sound really certain that I wasn’t treating you fairly” she asked in a feigned tone of worry, pouting at you as she tilted her head in her head. While you were mid freak out, she put a hand on your thigh and was already trailing it higher. Which you never noticed until her hand was just on the outside of the pocket of your thigh and crotch, which made you nearly choke on your words in utter confusion.

“No.. no need, I promise” you managed to strain out as you tried to play coy, putting on your best smile despite the way you were awkwardly sitting. She hummed as she gave you a curious look, her hand resting more calmly on the inner part of the pocket. She knew you were feeling hundreds of emotions, and she was making sure not a single one went away just yet. “Sit on my desk for me babydoll” she asked softly as she shifted a bit, waiting for you to listen. She motioned you up when paused for too long, her smile growing just a little when you finally listened. She let you lean on her desk as she got up, already taller than you in her heeled boots. She leaned over you some so you could be face to face, a smile on her face as she stared at you. “Now, I think you should say sorry to your poor overworked boss, huh?” she asked in a condescending voice, she didn’t mean that in the way you were thinking. She could see the cogs turn behind those eyes still, which only made her patience thin. “I should get something out of this, I did prove to you that I am a much better boss than you were making me out to be” she said in a sickly soft voice, tilting her head with a growing smile at how she could visibly see how you were catching the hint from her.

“Come on, just a little something?” she asked as she moved in a little, seeing your expression and behavior break out in nerves over this. She hushed you as you tried to figure a way out, she was slowly getting tired of this but trying to keep calm. “Don’t be rude” she snarked at you in a quieter voice, pulling one of her hands off the table to come up to your throat. She gripped to firmly, pulling you in closer and smashing your lips together before you could advert. The mix of your hums filled the room as you both practically melted into one another, her grip tightened just slightly as she came in closer. Her lips were soft, kind of tasted like plums and blackberries. God this woman was going to be the death of you, she was not holding back right now. She shifted as close as she could, not minding how one of your hands tangled into her hair to keep her closer. Matter of fact, you swore you heard a little giggle. She was enjoying this, enjoying your suffering. You didn’t get much thought process before the feeling of a thigh pressed between yours, not roughly but making sure you didn’t stop her. She pressed it to your core rather firmly, making sure you felt her thigh as she could feel the warmth you were already radiating.

She let out another giggle, more evil, more seductive. “Naughty girl” she whispered as she pulled back, rubbing her thigh more between your legs. She bit your lower lip, it wasn’t soft but wasn’t rough. She was testing the waters, ensuring you were comfortable with this. She was surprised when she felt your hips already rocking against her thigh, she didn’t even have to tell you. How painful pathetic is it for you to already be doing what she wanted? Make her life easier, plus she didn’t know how much of her patience was still in her. She pushed her lips back into yours, inflecting a small moan of surprise out of her before laying you down on the desk swiftly. She had lifted your body with her hands under your thighs, and then shifted before you understood what was happening. Her hands were under your shirt and on your stomach, the leather of her gloves soothingly warm against your skin. It didn’t last that long, She had quickly taken off your shirt and only broke the kiss for a second, both of you rushing back in without a second of hesitance. The office was a few degrees warmer and filled with soft moans and groans, lips mingled together messily and a weird mix of tongue that was far from passionate. Her hands gripped softly at your chest, gently messing with the flesh as she practically goes limp with her kissing skills.

She chuckled when you whined at her pulling away, it wasn’t for long. She went to kiss along your jawline before down your front—kissing between the valley of your chest over your bra and not stopping for a quick visit. “Sit still babydoll,” she informed in a firm voice at your squirming, even if she loved how you seemed desperate for her. She took her time to kiss over your stomach, slowing them down the lower she got. She traced her hands down your curves until she got to the hem of your jeans, smiling against your skin at how you groaned. She painfully slowly unbuttoned your jeans before unzipping them just as slow, fighting back her laugh at how you wouldn’t sit still like how she told you too. Once it was finally over, she gripped both your jeans and underwear in one go. Pulling them down carefully as she detoured off her first path to kiss along your right then, then your left when the fabric hit the ground. She looked up at you with calm eyes since she was having her fun, even if this felt like torture to you. She took off her reading glasses to put them to the side, not wanting them to break while she took her fun. “Are you gonna listen or keep squirmin’?” she asked curiously while raising a brow at you moving around, pulling away from your skin just enough to let you understand your choices in this situation.

“Good girl” she said softly when you finally sat down, struggling internally since her breath was so warm against you. She wasn’t playing fair, but when did you know Serval as fair? Not in any memories you could recall, so… worth it? She lifted your legs onto her shoulders calmly, placing herself between your legs swiftly. “You like fingers or tongue more?” she questioned curiously, laying between your thighs. She didn’t give you time to answer, just rolling her eyes at her own words. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll do what I want” she said, answering her own question before going in. She gave your pussy an open mouth kiss, you could hear it as much as you felt it. It sent shivers down your spine, you watched her shift on the bed to get in a better position as her right hand shifted under your thigh to hold it. She looked back up at you once she was comfortable, holding eye contact as she gave you slit a nice, long lick. She let out a loud moaned with you, more over at your taste while you felt your stomach swirl in pleasure. “Fuck you taste so good” she mutters to herself as she takes one more good look at you, her eyes tracing over how needy you looked for her. She reached over for her hair tie fast, messily tying most of her hair up so she could eat like the starved woman she was.

She went right back in, much more eager to make you cum. Her tongue began to firmly lick against your hole, her eyes still staring into yours as she did. She swirled her tongue around in a specific way, it made your body jerk softly at how good it felt. This woman honestly wanted to kill you, cause holy shit the things this woman tongue was doing to you. She pulled back slightly, sucking the spit back in her mouth as she pulled herself up some. She didn’t give you any time of comprehension, her mouth connected to your clit and sucked hard. It made you moan loudly, head falling back with your hair messily splayed on the desk. She switched from the swirls to her tongue flicking at your bud, her tongue was fast. You weren’t ready for it, hips bucked into her face desperately as she kept her speed. She didn’t show signs of slowing, she was mindlessly observing what each pattern did to you and figuring out where she should focus on her already drained from work energy. She kept going, the wet sound of her tongue passing over your bundle of nerves only she could hear mixed with your moans and whimpers and she loved it. Your moans only got louder the longer she went in, she began to alternate between the two to make you squirm, your thighs unable to keep place—but she held them down, manicured nails softly pressing into your thighs.

The knot in your stomach grew with each time her warm tongue passed over your clit, she would alternate to keep pushing you closer to your orgasm as you heaved. Her tongue seemed otherworldly to your half fucked out mind, you wanted to cum more than you ever had in your life. Her tongue was only getting firmer and faster, trying to push you over the edge. She could feel you getting close, she went back to strictly flicking the small bud in hopes that would work. She did it fast, switching her angle to see if she could hit a sensitive spot. She noticed that she did once she heard the shifts in your moans, they were louder and more whiny and she knew she hit the perfect angle. She focused the rest of her energy in this exact position, her tongue going as fast as she could make it to push that orgasm. She didn’t stop once you began tensing, she kept going to make sure you’d cum as her pretty nails were holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints. She felt your hips lift against her face, straining moan leaving your lips but she kept her tongue swirling around your clit. She kept going until you yanked at her hair, which only did she stop and lift up. She had the look of a satisfied woman, face half covered in slick but she looked as if she wanted nothing more in this world than do this all over again.

[tucanbakery]

Craving Pizza? Get the Best Pizza Home Delivery in Puerto Banus – Hot, Fresh, and Fast

Nothing beats the satisfaction of biting into a hot, cheesy, perfectly baked pizza. But what if you could enjoy restaurant-quality pizza from the comfort of your home, without stepping foot outside? That’s exactly what Tucan Bakery brings to you with the fastest, most delicious pizza home delivery in Puerto Banus.

Whether you're enjoying a relaxed night in, hosting a gathering with friends, or simply craving something indulgent, we make sure your pizza arrives fresh, fast, and packed with flavor. But don’t wait too long—demand is high, and our kitchen runs at full capacity every night!

Why Our Pizza Delivery Service is the Best in Puerto Banus

There are plenty of places claiming to offer great pizza, but here’s the truth—not all pizza is created equal. The difference between a truly satisfying meal and a disappointing bite comes down to ingredients, preparation, and speed. At Tucan Bakery, we take all three very seriously.

Handmade Artisan Dough – Made fresh daily for that perfect, crispy-yet-chewy texture.

Authentic Italian Tomato Sauce – Slow-cooked with fresh herbs and spices for an explosion of flavor.

100% Premium Mozzarella Cheese – Melted to perfection for the ultimate cheese pull.

Fresh, High-Quality Toppings – Locally sourced vegetables, premium meats, and gourmet ingredients.

Every pizza is crafted with love, baked to perfection, and delivered hot and fresh to your doorstep. If you’re looking for the best pizza home delivery in Puerto Banus, you’ve found it.

Tired of Cold, Soggy Pizza? Our Delivery is Lightning-Fast!

Nothing is more disappointing than waiting forever for your pizza, only for it to arrive cold, dry, and lifeless. At Tucan Bakery, we don’t let that happen.

Our expert delivery team ensures that your order arrives in record time, keeping the temperature just right so you can enjoy your pizza the way it’s meant to be—fresh out of the oven, hot, and full of flavor.

We’ve streamlined our process to ensure that from the moment you place your order, your pizza is being prepared, baked, and sent out the door without delay. No unnecessary waiting, no disappointing deliveries—just the best pizza home delivery in Puerto Banus, right when you need it.

Limited-Time Deals – Order Now Before It’s Too Late!

As if our mouthwatering pizza wasn’t tempting enough, we’re offering exclusive, limited-time deals that you won’t want to miss. But here’s the catch—these offers won’t last forever!

Buy One, Get One Free – Double the pizza, double the happiness!

10% Off Your First Order – A warm welcome from us to you.

Free Dessert on Orders Over €30 – Because every great meal deserves a sweet ending.

But you have to act fast—these deals won’t be around forever, and once they’re gone, they’re gone! Order now and treat yourself to the best pizza in Puerto Banus.

Late-Night Cravings? We’ve Got You Covered!

We get it—sometimes you need a late-night bite after a long day, a party, or just because the craving hits. That’s why Tucan Bakery offers late-night pizza home delivery in Puerto Banus.

Forget the disappointment of finding your favorite places closed. Our ovens stay hot, our team stays ready, and our pizzas keep coming—no matter the hour.

So whether it’s an early dinner or a midnight snack, we’re here for you. All you have to do is order, and we’ll take care of the rest!

Don’t Just Take Our Word for It – Our Customers Love Us!

We’re not just claiming to be the best—our customers say it all. Thousands of satisfied food lovers trust Tucan Bakery for their pizza fix, and here’s why:

"Best pizza in Puerto Banus! Arrived hot and fresh in under 30 minutes."

"I’ve tried every pizza place in town—nothing compares to Tucan Bakery!"

"Fast delivery, amazing crust, and the perfect amount of cheese. I’m obsessed!"

When people in Puerto Banus think pizza, they think Tucan Bakery. And once you try our pizza, you’ll understand why.

Your Perfect Pizza is Just One Call Away – Order Now!

Why waste time with mediocre pizza when the best is just one call away? Stop scrolling, stop searching—Tucan Bakery is the only name you need to remember for the best pizza home delivery in Puerto Banus.

Whether you’re craving a classic Margherita, a spicy Pepperoni, or a fully loaded Meat Lovers’ feast, we’ve got exactly what you need. Don’t wait until hunger strikes—place your order now and experience pizza perfection!

For more details, you can visit us:

Best pizza delivery in puerto banus

Marbella pizza delivery service

mexican pizza puerto banus

[newmoversblog]

Affordable Tips for Hiring Professional Packers and Movers

You are move full house or office and now you want to hire professional packing and moving services. But, how do you pick the right team, how do you know they will work to the highest standard and how do you avoid an unpleasant experience? We have some top tips on picking the best team for the job.

Client Feedback – Actions speak louder than words. When choosing your team, check the customer feedback as they have actually experienced the services provided. The Packers and Movers ranip Ahmedabad have a 100% customer satisfaction rate so all of our reviews are 5*.

Insurance – You should always ask what level of insurance a packing and moving service has. You need to know how protected your belongings are and whether to arrange extra cover. Our services are fully insured for goods and transit. You can also spot scammers disguised as removal companies if they are not clear on insurance or do not have any.  

Accurate Surveys – It is very important that the moving service knows exactly how many belongings you have to move. By not having an accurate idea the vans could be too small or you may find yourself being charged if you have extra items. Make sure you have a survey. Keep a record of the contents in each box for yourself because this will help you to notice if anything is missing.

Clarity On Services – When you choose a package it should be made very clear to you what is included. Are disassembly and reassembly included? Are they providing packing materials? If you and the company communicate properly then you won’t get caught out with additional charges or have the process held up. Clarity is key. 

Check Social Media – Social media platforms are the perfect place to see more reviews, learn more about the company, and see photos of them at work. You can hear from customers, ask questions, and more. If you want to see more about a company than just its website, places like Facebook are a great place to start. If you notice that their website is not professional or they have no social media presence, this could be a red flag. 

Friendly, Informative, and Transparent – When approaching a company for packing and moving they should have those three qualities. A friendly team is easier to work with throughout the process. You also should be able to ask questions about insurance, how long they have been working in the industry, how the move will work, and if they are a BAR member. If they are well informed and transparent then chances are you are on to a winner. 

Those are some of the ways that you can find the best service providers. If you put some of these into practice then your move full house will be less stressful and more exciting. Not only that but you can avoid costly extra charges and avoid scams too. We are proud to say that The Nations Movers ticks all the boxes and this makes us one of the best professional packers and movers in India.

[newmovers2023]

Affordable Tips for Hiring Professional Packers and Movers

You are move full house or office and now you want to hire professional packing and moving services. But, how do you pick the right team, how do you know they will work to the highest standard and how do you avoid an unpleasant experience? We have some top tips on picking the best team for the job.

Client Feedback – Actions speak louder than words. When choosing your team, check the customer feedback as they have actually experienced the services provided. The Packers and Movers ranip Ahmedabad have a 100% customer satisfaction rate so all of our reviews are 5*.

Insurance – You should always ask what level of insurance a packing and moving service has. You need to know how protected your belongings are and whether to arrange extra cover. Our services are fully insured for goods and transit. You can also spot scammers disguised as removal companies if they are not clear on insurance or do not have any.  

Accurate Surveys – It is very important that the moving service knows exactly how many belongings you have to move. By not having an accurate idea the vans could be too small or you may find yourself being charged if you have extra items. Make sure you have a survey. Keep a record of the contents in each box for yourself because this will help you to notice if anything is missing.

Clarity On Services – When you choose a package it should be made very clear to you what is included. Are disassembly and reassembly included? Are they providing packing materials? If you and the company communicate properly then you won’t get caught out with additional charges or have the process held up. Clarity is key. 

Check Social Media – Social media platforms are the perfect place to see more reviews, learn more about the company, and see photos of them at work. You can hear from customers, ask questions, and more. If you want to see more about a company than just its website, places like Facebook are a great place to start. If you notice that their website is not professional or they have no social media presence, this could be a red flag. 

Friendly, Informative, and Transparent – When approaching a company for packing and moving they should have those three qualities. A friendly team is easier to work with throughout the process. You also should be able to ask questions about insurance, how long they have been working in the industry, how the move will work, and if they are a BAR member. If they are well informed and transparent then chances are you are on to a winner. 

Those are some of the ways that you can find the best service providers. If you put some of these into practice then your move full house will be less stressful and more exciting. Not only that but you can avoid costly extra charges and avoid scams too. We are proud to say that The Nations Movers ticks all the boxes and this makes us one of the best professional packers and movers in India.