#I am writing this oneshot and it is. LONG. and I got carried away

[doverstar]

hhhhHHHHHH - ELEVENROSE.

[j0kers-light]

hi bae, ik youve been going thru a rough patch i hope(in fact ik) you’ll bounce back harder.🫶🏻

i really wanted to make a request for a long long time now, no pressure write it whenever u feel like it i am just going to drop it here.

for me J has always been a Lana del rey song specially the ultra violence album, he’s shades of blue, he’s ultraviolenec, smts hes even brooklyn baby. Can you write something dark, like real dark where hes possessive, violent, exatcly like he was in TDK. Pulling stunts and dropping hints. maybe he kidnappes the reader or smt like that, he’s acting all crazy and violent but something inside him just makes him slip to a lil caring or loving side every now and then, which eventually leads to some serious SMUT 😏😏

the reader could be his enemy’s daughter(maybe even batman’s daughter lol i am going wild) he tortures her,loves her, takes care of her then tortures her a lil more but make no mistake the reader is a fireball she gives him that lil fight they have in her which makes J even more attached to her.

ik i am just blabbing and making no sense, but i hope ukwim. i am also attaching a link to my fav J edit ever which might give u an outline of what i am trying to say. maybe even add J’s POV.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CqyP1PdveA9/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

okay ill shut up now. feel better love you 🫶🏻

His Lighthouse: Broken Dolls (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Broken Dolls - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

I feel ashamed that you had to wait so long for this request. Forgive me times a thousand @heathisbae !! I still love you and I got carried away with the word count. (10,500 words!!) I promise you that my blood, sweat, and tears went into this request. You should've let me stay in my enclosure. I LOVE DARK requests and I was in a dark and lonely place when I wrote this. The perfect mood for Broken Dolls.

Gather round children it’s time to go over some legal stuff. I usually do not care about trigger warnings. You are responsible for your own reading pleasure, BUT I’ll add a TW: List because yall gone need it. Chaos had a lil bit too much fun writing this one.. 👀😬

TW! Dark!Joker. rape, knife, blood, impact, choking, power play, dacryphilia, spitting, biting kinks, unprotected sex, overstimulation if you squint, degradation, no prep (foreplay is important kids) uhhhh… I’m missing something. 🤔 It’s canon Joker people. He’s a walking trigger warning.

Just be careful if you decide to read this one. I know I went overboard but your mental health is always my top priority. Enjoy or not. It’s entirely up to you. Since its a dark request, I decided not to tag anyone except @heathisbae Read at your own risk 🖤✨

Your father made it virtually impossible for anyone to find out. By fate’s design, you looked nothing like the iconic figure you called “father”, and you were forever grateful for that. 

Your skin complexion, eye, and hair color masked you from the surname that was your birthright. You were the rumored Wayne heiress that Gotham City whispered about. Many far and wide longed to meet you to strengthen their businesses by marriage, whereas others flat out questioned your conception.  

Bruce Wayne had neither confirmed nor denied the mother of any of his children to the world. Not like he ever would. There were only a few secrets Bruce had left in this world: you being the most important one.  

Your life would be in danger if anyone were to find out you were a Wayne or worse, the precious daughter of Batman.  

Many were adopted into the bat family, but you were blood to Bruce. A last-ditch effort he made to secure his family’s legacy; He hired a surrogate.  

Should Batman ever fall in combat, you could pick up the torch and continue the Wayne legacy.  

At an early age you wanted to make your father proud and wisely decided not to follow in his footsteps moonlighting as a vigilante. The eldest boys, Dick and Jason, celebrated for days. They loved their half-sister and supported every decision you make, but they would’ve put their foot down should you have wished to don a bat suit.  

Instead of violence, you dedicated your life to education. Only the best schools with full ride scholarships—your cv was lengthy as it was profound. You spoke multiple foreign languages, held many accreditations issued from all over the globe, and excelled at virtually every extra-curricular skill you could think of.  

You were a hardworking, driven woman with a no-nonsense attitude. That much, you got from your mother. 

You dominated any boardroom you entered, and your famous e/c eyes could make or break contracts with a single look. Now that was all your father’s genes. You gave the phrase, beauty and brains, a living breathing, mascot and Bruce couldn’t be prouder.  

That unfortunately made you a target.  

You shied away from public humanitarian appearances to avoid being recognized as a Wayne. Too many similarities with Bruce would make people curious. Instead, you worked behind a smokescreen and attended the many charities and sponsorship parties as a third-party spectator to oversee your work.  

That way, you got to see your hard work being implemented into the community—far better results than your father’s monetary donations provided.  

You took pride knowing your hard work was creating a change in Gotham City. With the safeguards Bruce and the boys had in place; it would take an actual genius to put the numerous clues together to uncover your identity. You could live in relative peace while still making a difference.  

Sadly, your long forgotten surrogate mother would soon threaten life as you knew it.  

Joker prided himself in being a vigilant man. Nothing, not even the smallest of details, went unnoticed by him and when it came to his best friend Batman, J took extra care to notice every little thing.  

The level of surveillance Joker did on the dark knight bordered on obsession but in a way, he was. Joker strived to be twelve steps ahead of his arch-nemesis in order to maintain his freedom. Being shipped back to Arkham was not an option, so he took information gathering very seriously.  

Joker knew that Batman was Bruce Wayne for years. He was surprised other Gotham villains or just the local law enforcement didn’t put the clues together. It was so obvious. 

There was no point in telling the world Batman’s not so little secret, but when Joker studied the daily life of Bruce Wayne a bit further, now that was a blackmail gold mine. Having a one up on Bats just felt good and especially when Joker discovered the perfect weapon that would break the man once and for all.  

You. 

Tucked away and hidden in plain sight; Y/n Wayne, the perfect tool for Joker’s plans.  

A father’s worst nightmare, seeing their child in distress, Joker looked forward to scaring Bruce with this latest prank. All he had to do was get close enough to steal you away, but Bruce kept you protected twenty-four seven. Smart man and Joker didn’t blame his bestie for being a protective father.  

There were dangerous people out there who would dream of your demise if they knew the truth! 

No, it was much easier to track down your mother and it was mere child’s play to make her talk. Joker thoroughly enjoyed extracting as much information from the woman before her untimely demise.  

He found it was unfair that she was virtually defenseless while you had security tighter than most world leaders. It wasn’t fair in Joker’s book, so he set out to put your safeguards to the test.  

And what achievement it was to outsmart Batman at his own game.  

You should’ve known better. Dad drilled it into your brain time and time again to always be aware of your surroundings.  

There was no such thing as a coincidence. Things happened for a reason, and it was up to you to detect any signs of danger at any given time.  

The same could be said for that fateful night. You were feeling a bit overwhelmed by a journalist at a charity event. She kept asking probing questions—a few hitting too close for comfort about your identity.  

How ironic that you attended every event the rumored Wayne heiress organized and knew so much about her personal affairs. What a coincidence how reporters asked you questions like you were the boss..  

The curious woman would not leave you alone! Her mindless chitchat felt more like an interrogation by the minute. You feared your identity was compromised after one of her questions rang true, but she simply laughed it off and said that if you were indeed a Wayne, “You’d be way prettier.”  

Whatever that meant.  

Perhaps the comment hit hard since your longtime friend/rival, Lana, stole attention from the fund raiser with her scandalous outfit. The brunette reeked of new money and had an ego the size of Metropolis, demanding attention wherever she went.  

Her appearance ruined your event for helping orphaned kids and turned it into a mini Met Gala. You had every right for storming out to scream into the back alley. She never failed at ruining things!  

You were really letting your frustration be heard when a whistle nearby startled you. 

“Listen to the pipes on that one.”  

You quickly stopped screaming once you realized that you weren’t alone. A lone male was smoking in the same alley, and he locked eyes with you once he caught your attention.  

They were an unnatural green that felt familiar however, you couldn’t place where you might’ve seen them before.  

“By all means... don’t let me keep ya from your.. uhh temper tantrum.” He blew a long puff of smoke into the night air.  

At first you were in shock, but that reaction soon turned into irritation. Just who did he think he was talking to you like that? “I am not having a tantrum thank you very much a-and... you can’t smoke here!”  

He simply chuckled while taking another drag. You crossed your arms and tapped your heels on the concrete as you waited for a response. This guy was something else.  

“Hello? Did you hear me?” You added.  

“Yup.” He popped the letter p, “Loud n’ clear. Pretty sure this area is ah... employees only. Ya wouldn’t catch me smokin’ if ya weren’t out here being a brat, hm?”  

He had a point, but you still scoffed at his choice of words. You had the idea of using your title as the boss of this event to get him fired; yet he would surely talk and by morning, Gotham City would know that you’re a Wayne. That was the last thing you wanted; however, it was worth the hassle if it got rid of him.  

For now, all you could do was shake your head at this strange man breaking your employee’s no smoking rule. You personally selected all the staff for the event and your security team performed background checks on everyone to ensure your safety.  

The gentlemen sitting before you did not jog your memory.  

His presence made you uneasy and you took a step back, “Do I know you?”  

He snorted, smoke emerging from his nostrils in comical puffs. “Uh no, but I knoooo~ooow you.” 

The blood in your veins ran cold when the stranger stood up and stepped into the light. “Didn’t your dad tell ya not to talk to strangers Miss Wayne?” He said mockingly.  

You took one look at The Joker’s grotesque scars and turned to run.  

Joker grinned and let you have a running start although you didn’t get far. Your feet got caught in your dress fabric and made his job relatively easy. The two of you tumbled to the ground, Joker landing on your back, but that quickly changed with a sharp elbow to his nose.  

You didn’t stick around to see if your hit landed, you just scrambled to your feet and tried to reach for the back door when a hand grabbing your ankle disrupted your sense of balance. One second you were upright, the next, you were on the ground seeing double vision.  

Joker didn’t think you’d put up much of a fight. His research into you was limited, but he doubted that you had any of the fighting skills your father was notorious for.  

Technically he was right. You had taken up self defense training from Jason and he reported that you sucked at it.  

Despite your lack of skills and concussion, you weren’t going down without a fight. One of your nails scratched Joker’s elongated smile causing it to bleed and suddenly, he had enough of your little games.  

You were making too much noise, and his window of opportunity to kidnap you was running out. If he didn’t move you soon, his plan would be ruined. You just had to make things difficult for him.  

“Alrighty Y/n, time for a little nap. Shhhhh... shh easy now.” Joker dodged your wild punch to his face as he dug a syringe out of his pocket.  

The sight of it made you panic and fight back harder but your scream of help was drowned out by a roar of applause from inside. The auction must’ve ended with a success. Joker pierced your skin and watched the milky white substance disappear into your system.  

It was cold seeping into your veins as you still tried to fight back.  

“Aht ahttttt don’t fight it. Let it happen.” Joker crooned into your ear; not like you could hear him. Your body felt so heavy, you lost function of your limbs so suddenly it was terrifying.  

The Joker’s obnoxious laugh sounded miles away from you. When your eyelashes fluttered closed, Joker knew victory was his.  

The environment that you woke up in was dark and cold.  

Your limbs were still groggy with whatever The Joker had injected you with and after a few test stretches, you still had motion in them. Although it would do you no good. The distinctive sound of metal on metal gave away your current predicament. 

You were chained to something.  

You tried not to panic but you were unable to see anything a few inches in front of you much less see how far the chain allowed you to move. You felt something solid underneath you and concluded that it was some sort of mattress or padding. It was a small comfort while being confined in total darkness.  

Wherever you were, The Joker was to blame, and you weren’t going to let him have this much power over you. You had to find a way out before he started his sick form of entertainment.  

Every citizen of Gotham knew Joker’s M.O. You didn’t want to be tortured to death all for a laugh.  

You waited until your eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings before exploring how much freedom you truly had.  

You felt around in the darkness until your hands bumped into something solid. It was a surface with nothing that could help you escape on it, so you moved on. Minutes felt like hours as you stumbled through the dark, searching for anything useful. Just when you thought you were painting a clear picture of the room in your head, a door opened beside you.  

The blinding light was nothing compared to the searing pain of the door hitting you square in the face or that of the trauma caused by falling to the ground.  

The room was still spinning when your loudmouth got the better of you. 

“What’s your f__king problem?!” You cried out. You feared that your nose was broken, it sure felt like it with the amount of blood you felt gushing out. The Joker didn’t seem phased by the display.  

Instead, he stepped right over you and flicked on a light, blinding you in the process. “Errr let’s see... problems. MY problem.. Social injustice? Global warming…uhhh rush hour traffic?” Joker paused for dramatic effect and slowly turned to face you. You froze, feeling his emerald eyes rake over your form hungrily.  

The unnatural hue seemed to suck you in the longer you stared. “You.” Joker purred. 

“M-Me?” How were you a problem? He abducted you not the other way round! 

You had never crossed paths with the Clown Prince of Crime until tonight. The two of you couldn’t be more worlds apart. You stayed nose deep in your humanitarian work and out of any trouble whereas The Joker was trouble personified.  

The only thing that linked you to Joker was your father, yet you doubted the clown was smart enough to put all the puzzle pieces together to uncover that.  

You prayed that this was all some sort of misunderstanding but judging how The Joker was staring, your hopes began to shatter one by one.  

You instinctively shielded your body from the known threat and in doing so, your skin brushed against unknown material. The formal dress you originally wore for the evening was gone and replaced by a thin t-shirt and baggy men’s pants. The implications were not lost on you. 

You turned to glare at the madman before you. “Who changed my clothes!?” If you were able to blush, you knew you’d be redder than a tomato.  

This man obviously had no respect for women. He simply threw his head back and laughed, “The pleasure is allllllllllll mine.”  

You failed at hiding your full body shudder and even worse, you were unable to silence yourself from talking trash. “Screw you.” You regretted saying it the moment you opened your mouth.  

The room suddenly got quiet. Joker sauntered his way over to your mattress and crouched down so he could be eye level with you. He admired the fire burning within your e/c eyes for a time. Such a strong wielded fire, it was beautiful to behold. If Joker had his way, there would only be smoking embers after he had his fun. He would make sure of it.  

The Joker always had an air of drama about him, and it took center stage as he spoke to you. “Ya wanna.. know something? You should be lucK-yyyy my boys didn’t change ya. They would’ve loved to uh.. what did ya say? Screw you.” 

His choice of words held more meaning as he tried to brush a few strands of hair out of your face. You shut down that idea by chomping at his fingers the second they were within your reach.  

You refused to sit around like some damsel in destress until dad or one of the boys came to rescue you. You would fight back even if it killed you. 

To Joker, your little stunt was comical. You could rebel all you wanted; your antics would never compare to what he had in store for you.  

He simply wagged his paint-stained fingers at you like a scolding parent and insulted you further. “Mm, feisty! I like thaT. But that’s no way to behave while you’re here. No noooo. No. You are a verry special guest, Y/n!” 

Joker walked over to the table that you found earlier. You watched as he pulled out a tripod and took the time to set up a camera in your general direction. Once it was positioned to his liking, he mashed a button—and to your horror, a red light began to blink. 

“Tada! May I present.... Y/n, my lead-ing lady in this uh.. short film of mine! The title you ask? Why it’s, How to Break Batman’s Little Girl 101!”  

Joker’s words were like a sucker punch to your gut. They bounced off the thick walls of the room and echoed back in your eardrum's times a hundred. Your worst nightmare was happening right before your eyes. Not only did someone know who you were, but dad’s long kept secret was out—and his arch-nemesis of all people, knew about it.  

You were blinking a mile a minute and Joker thought your lips flailing like a fish was oh so adorable. Kissable really but he shook that odd thought away.  

He hyped up his performance so much, you weren’t sure if he was addressing you or the camera at this point.  

“Oh come now, Y/n. Don’t act so sur-prised! I knew Bats’ secret for years now. We are friends ya know.... Mmm on second thought. Ya might wanna work on the security Batsy.. I just so happened to waltz in and steal your precious.... and might I add.... beau-ti-ful daughter away easy peasy. Did I mention she’s verrrry beautiful?”  

You snapped out of your panic by Joker’s fingers grazing your cheek. Your response was instinctive by slapping his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”  

Joker wasted no time reacting to your outburst. His gentle touch turned cruel and struck your face hard enough to turn it sideways right into the wall.  

He quickly grabbed ahold of your jaw and yanked you back upright. You were forced to bear witness to his self-inflicted scars, all jagged and swollen up close. It was a permanent reminder just how insane this man truly was. Joker’s nails dug into your cheek and for a split second, you genuinely feared this man.  

His green eyes were almost electric staring into your soul. “You’re mine now and I’ll touch ya however I want. Got thaT?”  

Joker saw the insult queuing up in your brain and squeezed your face tighter in his grasp. You whined but still managed to part your lips to respond. “I’m not yours.” You growled.  

A brief staring contest ensued. Green verses your e/c.  

Joker admired your bravery; you questioned his sanity. He dressed the part of a gentleman with his three-piece suit and coattails (despite the outlandish colors) yet he was so far removed from the title. He was unpredictable in every sense of the word that you weren’t sure if you would survive a moment longer in his presence. 

You were confident that someone would come save you, Joker thought you were too naïve to understand the gravity of your situation. In any case, he would have ample time to extinguish the fire blazing in your eyes before someone started searching for you.  

He was so caught up crafting his mental plans, he didn’t notice the glint in your eye right before you bit his hand.  

It hardly phased him and for your efforts you received a rough shove towards the ground. Thankfully the mattress softened the blow however you still had the strength to glare at The Joker in disdain. 

“Let’s see how long that feisty streak of yours last hmm?” Joker chuckled under his breath and walked over to the door.  

The sudden change in brightness blinded you again but this time you caught a glimpse of a bulky man guarding the door before he and Joker disappeared from sight. 

Finally you were alone with your thoughts. The first thing you did was let out a shaky sigh and glance at the camera still recording you. The Joker didn’t turn it off and you concluded its sole purpose was to monitor you and collect material for the ransom cd your dad would receive. 

You choked back a sob just thinking about dad. He would be beside himself knowing you were abducted. Finding out that his greatest enemy took you would be a low blow—one you hoped he would overcome in order to rescue you. Dick and Jason would steer the detective in the right direction but with every hour that passed, you knew dad would slowly lose his mind. He knew firsthand what Joker was capable of. Your nose throbbed bitterly as a harsh reminder.  

There was nothing stopping the clown from killing you if he simply became bored.  

If only you took dad’s words to heart and abided by his strict security measures. You had snuck away from your detail for a bit of privacy. Now you regretted that dumb decision. You were in Joker’s clutches with no chance of escape, and it was all your fault.  

He chained you to a bedpost like some animal and now that there was light in the room, you could see it in its entirety.  

It was a mini prison right down to the bare necessities. The Joker had every intention of keeping you here, cut off from Gotham City, most likely below ground to disrupt the bat tracker embedded in you since childhood.  

You scratched at your wrist, praying that it miraculously still worked despite the odds. Surely your father, the world’s greatest detective, could locate his daughter with much less. 

It was the only reassurance you had.  

You were getting tired overthinking your predicament. There was nothing you could do at present, so with one last hesitant glance at the video recorder, you tried your best to get comfortable on the mattress and fall asleep. 

That became your routine. Time held no value anymore.  

Was it a few days? Weeks? Longer? How were you to know? You were confined to four concrete walls with no form of contact, save for the ever present blinking red light watching your every move.  

You were forced to use the horrendous facilities they called a bathroom, and meals (which were surprisingly great) were brought to your room like clockwork while you were asleep.  

You began to look forward to the tray that would magically appear on your table. It was the only connection to the outside world you had, and you didn’t take it for granted.  

There was always a special treat on your dinner plate and it never failed at putting a smile on your face regardless of being a prisoner. You tried to keep a grip on your sanity with these small bouts of happiness, but it was obvious what angle Joker was playing at.  

He was using isolation to mentally break you and it was working. 

You thought being locked away all alone would be easy, but the constant silence was unbearable and before long you began to fear when Joker would return.  

Not fearing him specifically, but of what you might do for a sliver of human interaction.  

That visit came unexpectedly. You woke up from a nap sensing a presence inside your room. Sadly, you had embraced having hallucinations during your lengthy stay here, but this one felt a little too real.  

Something didn’t feel right. “H-Hello?”  

The door was still closed with the lights dimmed and there wasn’t a tray of food dropped by, so you glanced near the bathroom area on pure instincts. Nothing was inside the room except that camera that you loathed so much. Its constant flashing light both annoyed and comforted you. At least you weren’t completely alone.  

You sighed to yourself and was about to fall back asleep when you felt something move behind you. Joker’s laugh blended in with your scream as you tried to scramble away.  

You didn’t get far given that Joker dragged you back towards him.  

The last thing you expected after waking up was a man lying in the same bed as you. It was a natural response to freak out, especially since it was The Joker pinning you to the mattress. “YOU SICK F__K! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”  

You didn’t see the way Joker's eyes glazed over or the way his hands tightened around you before he grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Have I lost my… have I.. losT my mind?”   

You tried to pry his hands off you, but Joker was just too strong as he continued to repeat your question over and over. His manic laughter was deafening in your ear. “Have I lost my mind, Y/n? Or have you?”  

You looked up into pools of jade that glinted mockingly down at you. “What are you...?” 

Joker cut you off by directing your gaze to the camera in the room. “Did ya forget I’ve been watching you this entire time doll? Talking to yourself, your uh... hopeless words of affirmation? Oh Dad will come, he’ll come save me! Hang in there, Y/n! You’re so braaaaaave and strong!”’ 

Joker’s imitation of your voice was cringeworthy as he repeated your own words out loud. He mocked your defiant spirit and hopes of escape as if it was a joke. Strangely enough, Joker’s tone softened, and he sounded sincere with his next angle of attack.  

“You just don’t get iT. Daddy’s not coming Y/n. No one knows you’re missing, and nooo one cares either. It’s been a month now doll. If Daddy Bats really cared about his precious daughter, he would’ve rescued you by now don’tcha think?” 

Joker was just messing with you. This was another tactic of his to break you down. He was a master of manipulation and his way with words was just as dangerous as his work with knives. His sole existence was to harm others and yet with your fragile state of mind, a part of you believed him.  

You couldn’t believe that a month had passed with no one trying to find you. Was Joker telling the truth?  

It was too absurd to believe. “N-No....  no dad cares about me. He wouldn't.... he wouldn’t give up..” You whispered. You didn’t know who you were trying to convince here, you or The Joker.  

He must’ve seen the doubt starting to creep in for he pushed you a little further. “Are you sure, Y/n? He’s a uh, busy bat! Fighting crime always comes first, you know that better than anyyyyy one. He’s never had time for you...” Joker smiled, watching you blink back tears.  

He enjoyed every minute of tearing down your defenses one lie at a time.  

He leaned away and bit back a smile when you followed, seeking his contact. You were making this child’s play for him.  

“Bats always sent ya away when you were younger. Never letting you err.. blossom to your fullest. He hid you away because you were a failure to him. A mistake. He never cared about you! But guess whaT?”  

Joker waited until you looked up into his grassy green eyes. Were they always so expressive or was it your imagination that made them sparkle? It was the first source of human contact you had in who knows how long. You felt special to have The Joker staring at you the way he was.  

The air in the room was filled with static energy as you waited for Joker’s next words. You craved validation, acceptance, and attention at a time like this. The Joker had starved you for far too long in isolation.  

His hand raised up and softly caressed the side of your face and you missed how his eyes lingered on your lips longer than intended.  

“I care Y/n.” He chuckled seeing you pout, “I mean iT! I’ve been so ah.. cruel to ya. I should’ve treated you better. You want me to treat ya better doll?” 

Joker leaned forward and kissed both of your cheeks. The contact made you jump and blink up at him in shock. If he couldn’t hear your heart beating wildly, then he was deaf.  

You soaked up his form of human contact like a sponge. How long had you been wasting away in this room?  

Was it really a month like Joker had said? Right as Joker was leaning down to kiss you properly, you had a moment of clarity.  

Who was to blame for you being trapped in here? Why were you here in the first place? The answer was right in front of you, buttering you up with sweet lies and fake affection. Joker was playing you like a fiddle, and you were weak enough to fall for it.  

Not anymore.  

The Joker was the enemy. He was full of lies. Dad would never abandon you so why were so inclined to believe this green haired clown? No amount of isolation, no form of torture, could break you to believe such. You couldn’t give up so easily. You were a Wayne. You were born a fighter.  

Joker’s scarred lips ghosted against yours as you shoved him away. “You are nothing but a liar.”  

You enjoyed his brief moment of shock before his eyes cooled into the hard emeralds that they were. 

And just like that the act was over. One second you were in the comfort of Joker’s arms, the next you were tossed aside like trash and his true colors were revealed.  

He towered over you like a titan as you tried to back away but there was simply nowhere to go. You were at Joker’s mercy, and he spared you none. Each kick to your body made you cry out for Joker to stop but he didn’t listen, rather he laughed and kicked harder.  

You grabbed his ankle and begged him to stop but he jerked free and stomped on your wrist in retaliation. The audible crack was background noise to your earsplitting scream— yet it was all music to Joker’s ears.  

He enjoyed the pain of others and yours was icing on the cake.  

You sounded so pretty, so helpless and filled with anguish. He wanted to hear more. He was obsessed. How far could he push you until you gave under pressure? 

Two knocks on the door stole Joker’s attention and his eyes watched as another person entered the room. Joker knew who it was. Anyone else wouldn’t dare enter while he had his fun.  

Frost took one look at you sobbing on the floor before he focused his attention back on his boss. “We got trouble.”  

Joker rolled his eyes at Frost for interrupting his fun although it was probably for the best. He didn’t want to break you just yet. Slow and steady won the race and he had all he time in the world to do so.  

He might’ve went overboard today judging by how you visibly flinched when he moved in your direction, but he knew you’d bounce back defiant as ever. You had to.   

“You’ll have to uhh, excuse me Y/n. It seems.. I’m needed elsewhere. Don’t. You. Move.” He patted your head and laughed all the way out the door.  

The heavy sound of it closing did little to silence your tears.  

The pain was nothing. You were more upset with yourself for not being stronger. Joker was destroying your fighting spirit in record time and you were powerless to stop him.  

The bruises never faded, and it made sleeping even more difficult on your worn mattress.  

Sure, Joker was considerate enough to cast your broken wrist, but it was a small gesture compared to the verbal and added physical abuse he bestowed upon you daily.  

You became Joker’s personal punching bag and there was no end in sight to your suffering.  

Each time the door opened, you were forced to endure Joker’s twisted mind games or his heavy hand. It didn’t matter that you were a woman, in his eyes you deserved every ounce of pain that he inflicted. And when he finally left you bleeding and holding back tears, your own thoughts tortured you some more. 

Did father really abandon you? How was the world’s greatest detective, renowned for his state-of-the-art technology and gadgets, unable to locate his only daughter?  

The days blended together and all the hope you originally had of being rescued, diminished.  

The Joker enjoyed his daily visits with you but he could tell that it wasn’t enough. Your body was obviously battered yet your mind remained intact.  

You still possessed a thread of hope that made you defiant to the end. You spat in Joker's face whenever he was in range, and you rolled your eyes at his half-hearted jokes about killing you.  

“Then do it.” Your snide remarks often led to more beatings that did little to fulfill Joker’s goal.  

Nothing seemed to be working to ultimately break you, so he decided to try a different angle. 

You woke up to the smell of food in the air. Your stomach growled in want, but the reset of your body hurt too much to move. You debated skipping eating all together in favor of rest however that choice was made for you.  

“Sit up.” 

His voice. The root of all of your problems. You didn’t have the strength to be bothered with him today.  

Joker waited for you to move yet when you remained lying down, he became agitated. “I won’T re-peat myself doll.” 

Your voice cracked with your response. “I can’t. It hurts.” You just wanted to be left alone, to hurt in peace but Joker controlled everything here. As if you had a choice to begin with. 

“Lemme help you.” 

Just hearing the offer gave you the strength to flip over to face him. Surely he was joking. He wanted to help you?! After all he did? Screw the consequences, you had to speak your mind. 

“Help me? You want to help me? Okay then. Go away! Far… far away and leave me alone! Or even better! Let me go!  What’s the point of keeping me here? What do you want from me?!”  

During your speech you began to cry and Joker (for the first time in his life) felt guilty. Your timeless beauty was marred by cuts and bruises that he caused, and he couldn’t justify his actions for creating them.  

Somewhere along the way Joker lost focus of the mission.  

It was all a game— to get at Batman but along the way Joker saw how strong you truly were. Anything he tossed your way, you deflected it with ease. You never faltered, never lost hope. Even now as you lay weak and hungry, your eyes set him ablaze.  

You had won, he just didn’t know at what.  

Joker didn’t know what else to do with this failed experiment of his. One thing was certain, he wasn’t letting you go. There was something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on.  

Your rant fizzled off as you stared at Joker.  

There was an odd gleam in his eyes that you were wary of. He looked lost in thought and when he snapped to, you were shocked to see a genuine smile appear on his lips.  

You feared what his thoughts could lead to.  

To mask your fear, you rolled your eyes at his lack of an answer and reached for your dinner tray. Your groan of pain made Joker wince. Were you really in that much pain?  

Without thinking, he smacked your hand away and stabbed a portion of food with the provided fork. The two of you stared at each other in silence waiting for the other to make a move.  

“I can feed myself.” You grumbled.  

Joker gave you an, ‘are you sure about that’ look and tapped the fork to your lips.  

Just thinking about moving used up too much energy and your muscles begged for you to take him up on the offer. The Joker, Gotham City’s notorious criminal, wanted to feed you dinner; who were you to deny him?  

You begrudgingly opened your mouth while looking away from his smug green eyes.  

The act was so demoralizing, but you kept your cool while chewing in silence and opening your mouth for the next morsel.  

Just to be cheeky, you closed your lips around the fork and refused to let go. Joker didn’t think it was funny but he entertained your bratty behavior nonetheless. He considered stabbing your tongue—but thought against it. There was no need to be violent.  

He was trying a different angle to this whole hostage situation he created. Your defenses were down tonight and he would be a fool not to take advantage of them.  

A quick glance to his right confirmed that the video camera was still recording. Perhaps it was time to send a message to daddy dearest and make some progress.  

You were under the impression that Joker was taking pity on you with his nice guy act. He was patient, feeding you bites of food and not shoving it down your throat like he’d done in the past when you tried starving yourself.  

He was being.. (dare you say it) nice. You should’ve known it was too good to be true.  

He finished feeding you and you thought he was moving onto the slice of cake that was on the tray. You had been eyeing it since Joker uncovered it and you licked your lips thinking about the delectable treat.  

It would have to wait. There was an ominous shift in the air that completely blindsided you.  

Joker didn’t know what came over him. He didn’t have any plans when he entered your room tonight. It was supposed to be a simple food drop—nothing more, but the moment his eyes landed on you curled up on the mattress resting so beautifully, what left of his demented mind, checked out early.  

This past month and a half was filled with harsh lessons and far too many close calls. Batman and his ban of birds did everything in their power to find you and they almost succeeded once or twice. 

Thankfully Joker was smart enough to place you inside a shipping container so you could always be mobile and out of reach. You hardly noticed the frequent moves since he coordinated them during your sleeping hours. It also ensured your meals were always hot and fresh since they could just travel to wherever Joker deemed fit to your standards.  

Everything was planned down to the smallest detail, everything except developing feelings for you.  

Now that was out of Joker’s control.  

Underneath the clown façade, Joker was still a man and you were absolutely stunning with your aristocratic beauty and educated mind.  

Your fierce personality drew him in despite you being a means to an end. You were supposed to be a form of entertainment, a toy until Joker got bored and let Batman have his daughter back but over time, Joker became attached to you in an unhealthy way. 

You were Joker’s property, his special secret hidden from the world to do with as he so pleased.  

He stopped hitting you and allowed you time to heal due to some unknown form of guilt. More and more tasty desserts were included with your meals to make up for his abusive behavior, and unbeknownst to you, Joker watched you sleep every night.  

There was something soothing watching you blissfully unaware of the monster in your bed. He could slit your throat in your sleep but he didn’t. No, that would be a waste.  

Joker found it better to sleep beside you and hold you close. He knew you would freak out if you knew all the liberties that he took while you were asleep.  

From tracing your major arteries with a knife to leaving lipstick marks all over your skin—his feelings for you were disturbing and perfectly justified in his opinion.  

Joker didn’t want the traditional lovey dovey crap most couples shared because he wasn’t normal. He wanted to own, to control, to destroy you completely and then protect the broken pieces that remained. 

There was no concept of love in Joker’s mind and there never would be. Seeing you so docile as he fed you was the breaking point. He got a taste of your submissive side and craved more.  

Why couldn’t you just give in and break already? You brought this upon yourself. You forced Joker to do this. 

He blocked out the sound of your cries and wrestled your arms down to onto the mattress. His only goal was to get you naked and when you began to struggle more, he took matters into his own hands. 

Joker grabbed the army knife from his pocket and sliced your clothes off. One motion caught your skin and you howled as the sharp metal tore it open. Joker saw red bubble to the surface and dove down to lick you clean.  

He didn’t like hearing your voice filled with pain. It distracted him from getting hard and after staring you in the eye, you quickly got the message. Keep quiet or else.  

You tried not to make a sound louder than your whimpers. You didn’t want to provoke Joker’s wrath.  

“Much better. So pretty.” Joker hummed to himself when you were laid bare beneath him although he frowned seeing tears staining your cheeks. “Shhhhhh, hey hey. Look at me... Behave and it won’t hurT.”  

He watched your lip wobble as you remained quiet. Your wrists were being held down by Joker’s hand, leaving you powerless to squirm away and he loved the power scale tipping in his favor. Good. You would always be beneath him.  

He struggled a bit to unzip his fly but managed to get his cock out without letting you go. A shame you were being bratty and didn’t prepare yourself for this. He really had to do everything around here.  

Joker spat on his hand and worked it up and down his cock, groaning to himself at the feeling. His eyes roamed over his doll and admired your beauty mid stoke. You had curves in all the right places that begged to be fondled. He wanted to touch them, but if he let go of your hands, you would act out.  

He could see the fire burning in your eyes. If he gave you an inch, you’d take a mile.  

Yet it was criminal not to mark you up the way he wanted.  

Joker sighed as he lined himself up with your pussy. You panicked and tried moving away from his tip tapping your opening with heavy slaps to no avail.  

“Are ya gonna behave doll?” 

He shifted his weight and applied more pressure on your healing broken wrist when you continued to rebel. The searing pain made you bite your lip and cease struggling altogether.  

“Now. Are you gonna be a errr.. good doll for me n’ stay realllllllly still?” Joker sang.  

Your lip curled back, ready to cuss him out, instead a loud scream took escaped your lips as Joker began to force his way inside your dry entrance.  

It burned. It ached. He was tearing you apart and you shook your head in agony as it continued without end. You didn’t think about the consequences, you bucked your hips away from the unwanted invasion.  

You knew you were in trouble the moment Joker said your name in warning. 

“What. Did. I just say doll? Dumb b___h.” 

Joker let go of your wrists to hold your hips instead. Once he found purchase, he began thrusting in and out of your pussy. His pleasure was your torment. Your silent tears spurred him on and he swatted your hands away that tried to push him off.  

Nothing would stop him after he got a taste of you. He was an idiot for not taking you sooner. 

“Haha, you’re grippin’ me soooooo tight doll. Ease up for me!” Joker groaned louder to drown out your pathetic pleas. He would not slow down; you were too perfect to stop now.  

He noticed the camera in the corner and got an idea. “Are ya enjoying yourself, doll? Why don’tcha give the ah.. a-audience a good show? Go on. Tell him how you feel.”   

You forgot all about the recorder in the room! Your sharp gasp was music to his ears. You tried to turn away, but Joker would have none of that. He grabbed your jaw and forcibly turned your face towards the lens. Your tears were a paid actor for his production.  

“Ya see that Bats? ThaT, oh f__k... t-that is the face of your failure. She’s all mine and I’m gonna take ahaha.. verrry good care of her. All mine.. d__n it..” Joker choked back a moan and licked the tears from your face as he sped up his thrusts. If he kept this up, he would cum before the fun really started. Although he shouldn’t have to be the only one getting off.  

With a smug grin, he snaked a hand down to rub messy circles on your clit.  

The response was instantaneous. You threw your head back with a mewl on your tongue. He felt the result of his adventurous touch the same time you let out an unexpected moan. “Oh? Ya like that doll?” He mocked.  

He laughed at you trying to deny deny deny but your body was speaking on your behalf.  

You tightened around him and he felt the slick begin to coat his cock. He arched an eyebrow at the sudden turn of events. You really were enjoying this. He wondered... 

He stroked your clit faster and was rewarded by another sweet moan gracing his ears. His doll made the prettiest sounds under distress. He could see the confusion dancing across your features.  

“Ohhhhhh Bats! You have a naughty.. naughty girl! Enjoying my touch after begging me to stop just minutes ago? Ah.. mmm, it's okay doll! M-Moan louder. Enjoy ittt, I know I am. Mm, you feel better the uh wetter you become.” 

Joker stopped mid thrust when you clenched down unexpectedly on him. Were you trying to crush him to death?  

He wondered if you could feel him throbbing in your pussy. Your tiny fists were beating on his clothed chest but there was no point in pretending.  

You were enjoying yourself and if he was correct to assume, you were getting close. You just needed a little push and Joker had just the thing.  

“I knew you were secretly a whore. Only dirty sluts get off on being used like a toy. Hehe. It's a-always the quiet ones f__k!” Joker chuckled to himself followed by a shuddering groan. You were very close. He had to act fast.  

Without warning he bit down hard on your shoulder. You moaned out before covering your mouth with your hand. It was too late; Joker already knew what kind of woman you were. He bit harder and rejoiced as blood bubbled up to the surface to coat his lips. Finally, he was marking you up the way you deserved.  

He sped up his thrusts, laughing at the sloppy sound of wet skin on skin in the room. His cock happily slid in and out of your pussy now that you were horny.  

You were shaking your head in denial even as your legs shivered on Joker’s shoulders. He licked the fresh bite mark clean before whispering in your ear.  

“Let go Y/n. Shatter into a thousand tiny lit-tle pieces— and when you snap them back together, I'll be righT here to ruin you all over again. And again. And again. I will always break you just the way you need. The way you deserve. So go on. Do itttt. B-Break for me.... For us.”  

Joker thought you were beautiful before, seeing you admit defeat and cum was a vision from heaven.  

Your cheeks darkened in color as your lips parted like the sea to allow carnal bliss to fall from its depths. You twitched uncontrollably in Joker’s hold, and he was more than happy to pull you in close as you fell apart on his cock.  

You rode the wave of pleasure and swept Joker along with the force. He was caught off guard by your tightening cunt and came with your name a whisper on his lips.  

No drug could ever compare to the high you gave him.  

He saw new sounds and heard colors that he couldn’t name. His breath came in short pants as he came down. Words failed him, his head was still too foggy to process the world around him.  

What could one say after an orgasm that intense? He just came inside your quivering hole, and he already wanted to do it again.   

He couldn’t find the energy to even think coherently! All he could do was flop down next to you and sort out his senses in the right categories.  

His paint-stained hands wandered aimlessly and began playing with the ends of your hair, much to your horror. While Joker floated in post-coital bliss, you fell back to your harsh reality.  

You let this monster have sex with you and even worse, you enjoyed it.  

You felt dirty, cheap, a literal failure. You allowed The Joker to touch you, to make you feel good. You came from his ministrations. God, you could feel him softening inside your used pussy. Your inner thighs felt sticky, and you shuddered realizing that The Joker came inside you. The room began to spin as you spiraled into a panic attack.  

What would dad think when he found out? What if you became pregnant with this monster’s child. You felt sick to your stomach and feeling Joker playing with your hair, as if nothing was wrong, tipped you over the edge.  

“Don’t touch me!” You wailed. Your shout made Joker come to and instinctively hold you closer to his chest. He wasn’t quite sure what was going on inside your head, but you didn’t have to be so loud. 

“Doll... I ahh uh, already touched ya.” He rubbed up and down your back despite you flinching from his touch.  

You made eye contact with the video recorder in the corner and Joker curiously followed your gaze. Oh. That would explain your sour mood. You were smart and deduced what he would do with the footage. “Listen Y/n..” 

A knock at the door interrupted Joker’s sentence. He didn’t move an inch as he granted whomever on the other side entry.  

You tried maintaining your modesty but it was a useless effort. You were bare as the day you were born in Joker’s arms and he wasn’t letting you go. 

Joker’s henchman walked in and struck a conversation with the clown, pretended as if you didn’t exist. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die you were so embarrassed.  

You didn’t notice what was going on until Joker snapped his fingers in your face. “Huh?” 

Joker rolled his eyes at your lack of awareness. He sat up straight and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “I said..... take a bath while I’m gone. I uh.. took your chain off for ya.”  

He pointed at your bare ankle that was in fact free of the heavy metal. You twisted your leg, feeling the freedom granted to you.  

You wanted to thank Joker but he was already walking out the door with his henchman. And just like that, you were alone. The silence was unbearable as the full reality hit you full force.  

You didn’t fight back. Why did you give in so easily? Why did you miss the warmth of Joker body against yours? Just what was wrong with you for craving his touch?  

Screw taking a bath, you ran straight towards the toilet to empty your stomach.  

Sleep did not come to you when your mind was abuzz with doubt. 

You paced the room while biting your nails and reliving your time spent with Joker over and over. You were beyond restless thinking about your uncertain future. What would Joker do now that he got what he wanted? 

Would you be killed off and discarded like trash? Would your family be given the chance to mourn your passing? Would they even know what became of you? There were too many questions and not enough answers. One thing was for certain, you refused to sit around and wait for your fate.  

For some unknown reason Joker removed your chain. It was a sliver of hope that you planned on exploiting.  

The heavy metal door loomed in the distance. Before it served as a reminder of how trapped you were; now it was a shining beacon of hope. Either coincidental or simply a miracle, Joker also took the elusive camera with him. Nothing was stopping you from running, and nothing was holding you back.  

Joker had slashed your clothes to ribbons but the woolen blanket on the mattress was still intact for you to wrap around your body.  

It left you feeling far too exposed, but you had no other option available. Once covered, you padded over to the door and turned the handle to freedom. 

The hallway was dark and ominous before you.  

You weren’t sure if you wanted to venture into the unknown. You looked at the barren cell you were forced to inhabit and back into the dark void, weighing the odds.  

You took the first step, then another, and another until you were walking with haste—desperately searching for an exit.  

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears as you stumbled across a door with light poking out underneath the frame. It was the only lead you had so far towards an exit. You slowly pushed it open and regretted it instantly.  

The room full of men all stopped their various conversations to stare you caught like a deer in headlights in the doorway. You quite literally walked into a den of wolves.  

“Well well. Look what we have here!” One guy catcalled.  

They all leered at your body poorly wrapped up in a blanket. It was obvious your purpose here at their hideout. Free entertainment.  

The door slammed shut behind you, trapping you again, only this time in far more hostile conditions. You berated yourself for leaving the safety of your cell if this was the cost. You could barely defend yourself against Joker. There were too many men here to even consider escaping.  

You backtracked right into a broad chest and the male laughed at you already cowering in fear.  

He roughly pulled your hair while another pair of hands ripped your blanket away to knead your breasts. Whistles and laughter broke out in the room at the sight. “The Boss been keepin’ this from us!? Look! She’s freshly used too!”  

You screamed as fingers stabbed their way into your cunt and explored inside. Their hands weren't like Jokers. There was no pleasure to be gained here and unlike before, your body did not warm up to the stimuli.  

You were in pain as they groped and fondled your body and despite Joker being the origin to all your problems, you cried out his name to save you. 

Someone yanked your hair again before shattering all your hopes with a handful of words. “Ya think the boss is gonna help you? You are nuthin’ to him! Just a warm hole for him to use. And now it's our turn.” 

You closed your eyes to block out the pain. The last of your fighting spirit faded away as a lone tear rolled down your cheek. 

Frost and Joker were waking back towards your room when they heard the loud commotion coming from the common room.  

It was well in the night and nothing of note should’ve excited the men to be so rowdy. Most of them should’ve been on patrols in the first place.  

Frost merely shrugged his shoulders and followed his Boss.  

Curiosity killed the cat, but Joker was not so simple minded. He knew something was wrong. He wasn't religious by any means, but he prayed that this didn’t involve you.  

He barged into the common room ready to scold his men when his worst fears came to light.  

Joker didn’t think, he simply acted until nothing else stood in his way to get to you. Frost could handle the aftermath of his rage—you were the only constant in Joker’s mind the second he opened the door and saw you in distress.  

He left you just a few hours prior, safe and accounted for in your room. He left to prepare better accommodations to reflect your newfound status in his life. Joker took great care of his possessions, and you deserved better than being tucked away in some dingy shipping container. You didn’t belong on the floor like a cheap whore. No, you were worthy to be displayed, dressed up like the doll Joker wanted you to be. 

 Never did he imagine he would return to this. 

He fought his way to your side and fell to his knees by your side. His green eyes were wide with an unknown emotion as they took in your battered form.  

He didn’t want to touch and accidentally hurt you any further yet something about the thousand-yard stare in your eyes told him you were no longer here to feel anything at all. Joker knew how ruthless his men were, but this was barbaric.  

He didn’t regret killing them after what they done. His only remorse was not making them suffer more before death.  

Joker gathered you up in his arms and tried shaking you back into focus. “Y/n? Y/n, c'mon doll! Look at me.. s-say something!?” He pleaded.  

You mumbled something inaudible and curled up into a ball.  

Rage. Guilt and surprisingly shame. Joker’s mind was wild with this flood of new emotions.  

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have a single cell of compassion in his body, yet the sight of his newest toy utterly broken (and not of his own doing) had him feeling remorseful.  

“I... I don’T.. I...” Joker gathered his thoughts with a deep inhale.  

Frost watched the intimate scene while kicking over a body. It was a bloody mess in here; however, that had to wait.  

Frost could tell his Boss needed some assistance. “I’ll run a bath.” Frost said offhandedly.  

It would point Joker in the right direction at least rather than rocking you back and forth on the floor to no avail. The comment snapped Joker out of his musing.  

Emerald eyes roamed over your sleeping form. “Bath. Y-Yeah uh she needs a uh.. bath.” 

He nodded to himself and slowly rose to his feet to carry you out of the common room. He passed up your old room in favor of his own that had more privacy. Not like it would matter. You had yet to speak.  

This was not the outcome Joker had planned. Even after he washed you clean and tucked you into bed— he sat by your side contemplating his next move.  

You were no longer the shiny doll he wanted on his shelf. His own men had ruined you. They took away your feisty demeanor and all conscience thought from you that made this game fun.  

Joker tried to get you to speak, to react to anything, but you remained stagnant, blinking owlishly at the wall until sleep finally took you.  Nothing of the defiant Y/n that Joker had grown to like remained.  

You left him with no other alternative. He got what he wanted, and it was time to move on.  

In three more days, it would mark your two-month long disappearance. Bruce would be a liar if he said he didn’t count the days if not the minutes that you were gone.  

He blamed himself for your capture and the boys tried their hardest to steer him in the right direction and not spiral into depression. Bruce loved all his children, but you were his by blood. You held a special place in Bruce’s heart and as such, he spent every waking second trying to find you. 

No expenses were spared, and any lead (no matter how small) were investigated. Joker was smart, but Bruce was smarter. He would find you.  

Dick and Tim investigated a possible lead and discovered where you were originally being held. You still had a sweet tooth and your favorite bakery recognized your custom order being placed and tipped off Wayne Enterprises about the person who picked it up. 

Unfortunately, The Joker moved you before Batman could arrive at the location but now they knew you were still alive. It strengthened their hopes in finding you safe and sound.  

Numerous rescue attempts were thwarted in the following weeks, but they never gave up. There would be another lead, they would have another chance to save you.  

All hope was not lost. 

Their patience was rewarded the day the Batcomputer picked up a signal on your tracker. It was finally online for the first time in months. Everyone scrambled to assemble at the pinned location. Bruce was ready for a fight and mentally prepared himself to do anything necessary to get you back.  

None of the boys were prepared to arrive at the back of your office building. It seemed to be a mistake, it had to be. Was Joker sending them on a wild goose chase? Bruce scanned the area but there was only one faint heat signature detected. His nerves were on edge, already assuming the worst.  

Bruce’s heart stopped beating when he saw a body lying in the delivery drop-off/ loading area. He didn’t wait for the others to secure the area. His father instincts were in overdrive as he rushed to your side, calling out your name.  

You were unresponsive with only a tattered blanket covering your shivering form. That’s when Bruce saw the bruises painting your body and the cast still present on your wrist. He didn’t want to believe that this battered woman was his spit-fire daughter.  

You were a shell of your former self when Bruce finally roused you awake. The fire that once blazed intently within your e/c eyes was gone and it was evident what The Joker did to you.  

“Bruce, look.” Dick said as he picked up something near your feet.  

Scattered around your body was a deck of playing cards. On the joker card a note was written in red.  

You can have her back Bats; I don’t like broken dolls. 

[scariusaquarius]

chicken à la king.

Bucky Barnes x Empath! Fem! Reader

Summary: His blue eyes met yours, and his body responded almost instantly: a slight tremor up his spine, a feeling of breathlessness from the caring expression on your face, and he could feel his fingers tightening around the mug in his hand slightly from the boyish nervousness that suddenly aroused from deep within his mind.

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A/n: I swear to god this wasn't meant to be a huge fic. It was supposed to be a cute little oneshot that turned into this huge yearning. God, i missed writing for Bucky Barnes a;lkdfj;sdjf

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Genre: Romance, Friends to Lovers Rated: Everyone Warning: Slight Angst, Fluff, Bucky's a bit awkward, Mentions of PTSD/Anxiety symptoms, Dark/Crude Humor, Mentions of HYDRA, Mentions of Torture

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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The last time he had been on a real date was when he went home for a week-long furlough back in June of 1943. It was the last time he remembered Steve Rogers as the way he'd been before Project: Rebirth made him into the big soldier he was today; small, frail, and knuckles busted from getting into another fight.

James Buchanan Barnes could still remember a time when Steve had to stuff his shoes with newspapers because his feet were too small. Granted, that was during a time when you weren't allowed to be stingy with money, but Bucky digressed.

Three dollars then was a mere blink for today's world, and though Bucky was still getting adjusted to the way the new world was, he wasn't exactly thrilled to find out that a simple cup of black coffee costed a whole five dollars in comparison to a nickel in the 30's and 40's.

But that was the difference that stood out the most: Bucky just wasn't meant for this time.

Like Steve, he was also a man out of time; forced to wake up for tasks he didn't want to do and his mind scrambled over and over for the littlest mistake and sometimes just because. HYDRA, and the world, had been unforgiving to Bucky, but he couldn't complain.

He could only adapt. Like a soldier.

I am not the Winter Soldier. I am James Buchanan Barnes.

I am Bucky.

Bucky's blue eyes fell to his cup of steaming coffee; his reflection almost distorted completely as he raised the drink to take a sip. The bitter taste and burn distracted his nerves for a moment, but he was deftly reminded by the way the December sun glinted on his left hand and the metal shined right into his eyes.

Constant noise and stimulation made his body tense, but when your voice filtered through the chaos, it seemed to melt everything away until he was enveloped in a cocoon of quiet, comfortable distractions.

"You seem like you got a lot on your mind, Bucky."

His blue eyes met yours, and his body responded almost instantly: a slight tremor up his spine, a feeling of breathlessness from the caring expression on your face, and he could feel his fingers tightening around the mug in his hand slightly from the boyish nervousness that suddenly aroused from deep within his mind.

While these feelings were flooding his brain, there was the other part of him that was chastising him for letting his guard down.

A good soldier never feels anything but the need to complete the mission.

'You're my mission,' metal to flesh; the feeling of the wind searing against his face; the smell of smoke and gunfire invading his nostrils as the man beneath him allowed him to carry out his duty.

'then finish it-'

"I'm doing perfectly fine, thanks for asking."

Bucky curses internally at the way his tone comes off as sharp and defensive; apologies beginning to string along his tongue like a Chatty Cathy, but your voice cuts him off before he can say anything more; his head instinctively ducking.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. Would you wanna go somewhere less crowded?"

The consideration within your voice makes Bucky want to second-guess your intentions, but he has to remind himself that he knows you.

He's looked into everything about you. You're not a threat to him.

But you could be. Bucky can't predict the future and he doesn't know what happens when you go home from visiting him.

The thoughts that race through his mind make him almost guilty from how untrusting he is of you, but you never made it a point to be upset with him about it. As someone who had also been a prisoner of war, you seemed to understand him better than most.

He met you through Dr. Raynor, his court-appointed therapist that he was required to see despite being pardoned for years and years of crimes while working under HYDRA (under no consent of his, mind you). His therapy hadn't really been going anywhere, and so Christina had suggested meeting with someone that was like him.

The words always left a bitter taste in his mouth, and the scribbling of her pen made the feeling even worse.

You weren't anything like him when it came down to it. While yes, you had been taken prisoner and experimented on and conditioned, you weren't as seasoned as he was; as broken and old and confused.

Bucky wasn't sure what to say. His chest was starting to tighten, his eyes darting for the door, and Bucky was becoming aware of the weight of the knife in his boot. He was starting to look for danger, but your hand on his made Bucky snap his attention straight to you; the feeling of wanting to recoil making the muscles in his forearm tense.

"Hey, it's okay."

It was simple, short, and sweet. Just two words that held more weight than you realized, and the man couldn't help but to hold his breath. Your touch was soft; a far-cry from what he was used to, but it was working.

You were bringing his heartrate to a slow; his body instantly relaxing, and there was a part of Bucky that wanted to hate the subtle golden glow that shined within your (color) irises.

This was why Raynor wanted you two to become friends: you were an empath. Not exactly like Wanda Maximoff, but you were close; a natural-borne mutant. You hadn't been able to use your abilities for good until him; HYDRA made sure to squash any thought of using your powers outside of missions before you even realized it was a thought.

When you were recovered from HYDRA, Dr. Raynor had been your therapist while you were learning how to use your ability at S.H.I.E.L.D when it was led by Phil Coulson. But then, Coulson was killed, and things became different.

Then, it was discovered that HYDRA had infiltrated the agency, and you went under the radar in fear of what HYDRA would do once they got your hands on you.

You were only found when you showed up unexpectedly in Raynor's home, apparently after a run-in with him.

The Winter Soldier.

He wasn't sure what had possessed Raynor to pair the two of you together for therapy sessions, but from what Bucky had gathered, it was because you had asked to be seated with him.

You asked.

Maybe it was due to the new-but-not-new 'exposure tactics' that most therapists used nowadays. He remembered it being huge back in the 20's when a developmental psychologist named Mary Cover Jones and other psychologists began to use desensitization tactics as a different form of therapy.

Bucky was a bit of a skeptic, but when Raynor suggested that it would be good for the both of you, Bucky had relented and now here you two were months later: having a cup of coffee together while you held his hand.

It wasn't exactly a date, but Bucky wondered if you had begun to think of it that way like he had.

Bucky liked your company. You didn't poke and prod at him; didn't expect him to answer when he didn't know what to say; didn't wait for him to come to the rescue when he was knee-deep in his own shit; didn't get angry at him for what he did when he was the Winter Soldier.

You just held his hand, sent nice feelings to him, and grounded him when his vision began to grow shadowed in the corners and unfocused. You helped him to feel normal, and it was a dangerous game that he played with you.

He was getting attached, that much Bucky knew. Anytime you two went out in public, Bucky kept an eye out for suspicious activity because you were there; not because of his conditioning. He'd search for exits that he could get you through, he'd walk slightly in-front so he could shield you from attacks if need be, he made sure you were completely in your apartment and then-some so he knew that you were safe, the list was endless.

Bucky tried to tell himself that he was just doing this because it was courtesy and amendment; that inner-gentleman that never was completely conditioned out of him, but even Sam could tell that it was deeper than that.

Though, Sam Wilson seemed to know everything about Bucky while knowing completely nothing.

Bucky couldn't keep his fingers from brushing against yours as he intertwined your hands together, and he murmured, shaking his head slightly.

"I hate it when you do that."

"Promise it's just output. No meddling into that big head of yours."

Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes, but the words brought him comfort.

He was deathly afraid of what you would see if you ever took a dive; drowning in the fucked up shit he'd gotten himself into. While befriending an empath with telepathic abilities wasn't exactly comforting, it helped that you allowed him the choice.

A choice he never had while he was with HYDRA.

"My head isn't that damn big."

"I don't know, the longer hair kind of hid that."

His blue eyes were unamused as he looked at you, and you couldn't help but to chuckle, and the golden hue of your eyes went away and he was no longer under the blanket of your powers. Bucky, however, felt rejuvenated; like he'd just gotten 10 hours of peaceful sleep, and his back straightened just the slightest as he asked you.

"Is that offer to get out of here still open?"

Your eyes twinkled, nodding, and Bucky made sure to [begrudgingly] lay a ten dollar bill on the table before the two of you left. Brooklyn was hustling as the new year began to close in; the air still crisp and freezing, and he held the door open for you on the way out.

He was walking close to you; shoulders brushing with every step, and instinctively, Bucky's eyes began to scan the area; looking for danger, and your quiet chuckle snapped him out his focus. Bucky glanced down at you with a raised eyebrow, and your voice held a tone of teasing to it; your expression soft.

"There's nobody out here to get us right now, Bucky."

"Can't be too sure."

And that was that. You didn't fight him on it; didn't question his thinking. You just let him be, and Bucky didn't know whether to thank you or to feel bad because even he could tell that your shoulders were tense.

War never left.

While the physical remnants would fade; leaving off-colored skin and metal parts and ribbons and awards and dog tags that dangled too loudly despite the fact that there was no heart to remove them...it was still active mentally.

Streets were zones, people were potentially dangerous, and there was always a question of 'what if' that lingered in the air like a foreboding warning sign that never shut off no matter how badly the neon flickered.

The conditioning never left, but when you had someone to sit with in the trenches, it wasn't so bad. A deep breath left his body, and you hummed as you took a sip of your coffee, your eyes looking up at the lights that were strung along the street lamps; lit up despite the dim light of morning.

"Are you excited for the new year? You're gonna be what, 107-past-ancient?"

"You kids have no sense of respect for your elders these days."

You giggled while Bucky's eyes lit up with amusement, his lips curling up slightly despite his best effort to keep a poker face.

"So, you do admit that you're old?"

The words slipped from his mouth before he could help it, wincing to himself slightly from the embarrassment.

"Only in mind, sugar."

You didn't say anything, but Bucky could tell that you had heard him loud and clear by the way you had broken your own poker face; biting your lip to keep a laugh from slipping out. Shaking his head slightly, Bucky glanced over his shoulder at the sound of something approaching fast before he turned back to front and placed a hand against your waist and tugged you to him when a skateboarder came from around you; startling you.

You melted into his side, the warmth of your body heat mixing with his, and you both paused as you breathed a sigh of a relief. Before Bucky could ask if you were alright, you were already smiling up at him, eyes crinkling in the corners as you exclaimed.

"You saved me again! This time from an oblivious skateboarder. Wasn't it a raccoon in a trashcan last time?"

Bucky's cheeks burned, and he pinched your ear, making you yelp and giggle as he quickly let go the second your hand swatted at his.

"Listen, punk, I really thought someone was there."

"The look on your face was priceless, but it's the thought that counts."

Bucky rolled his eyes, and he couldn't help but to wonder if you were more trouble than anything else. Trouble that he liked. Trouble that he was starting to indulge a little too much in.

Trouble that he wanted to get more of.

Shaking his head slightly, Bucky let out a breath again as you continued to chuckle quietly to yourself, and when he made it to your apartment with you, Bucky respectively stood on the outside mat that read 'welcome!' in big black rubber letters.

You turned to him, the key to your door lodged into the lock while your hand was still on the doorknob, and Bucky was giving you his undivided attention.

"Do you have any plans for tonight at all?"

Bucky shook his head, shrugging his shoulders.

"Not that I know of, but I can let you know if it changes."

You were suddenly nervous, Bucky's eyes zeroing in on the way that you swallowed slightly; throat undulating, and he became alert. If he listened closely, he could hear the way that your heart was starting to race; your hands trembling just the slightest as you looked lost-in-thought and unsure of what to say exactly.

"Um, would you...like to come inside? I was...thinking of trying a new recipe and it'd be nice to have someone to test it out with me."

Bucky hadn't been expecting it, if he was honest. In his mind, you'd become nervous because you had sensed some sort of presence or danger and it was going to be a fight.

Not because you wanted to invite him inside.

It was actually cute.

Bucky's shoulders relaxed inconspicuously, and he replied with a tilt of his head.

"You want me to be your test subject? Not the worst torture I've been subjected to."

The joke was in poor taste, and Bucky felt awful for saying it; his mouth running faster than his mind could think, but you were laughing at him; your head thrown back as if the words didn't apply to you either.

"I didn't realize my cooking was that bad."

"I wouldn't know-"

Bucky thought for a moment, and when you opened your mouth to reply, Bucky responded confidently despite the sweat running down the side of his neck from the nervousness.

"-but I'd like to...if you'd have me."

Suddenly, he was back on Sarah Rogers doorstep, a much-younger Steve looking at him with surprise as his mother stood at the stove with a kind smile, inviting him in but making sure to let him know that 'he can't just run away from his folks every time they get onto him' or something like that, Bucky couldn't quite remember what Sarah had said to him that day.

He just remembered how damn good her Hoover stew was despite the Great Depression taking a huge toll. Bucky was brought back to the present by you chuckling and unlocking the door, gesturing with your head to come in.

"You'll always have a place at my table, Bucky."

There was a part of him that expected you to say the same thing that Sarah had, but you didn't say anything else. You just walked inside, hung your coat on the rack, and left the door open for him, and Bucky was washed with the lovely scent of your apartment from the candles he had gifted you for Christmas.

Raynor's idea, but Bucky was happy that you liked the gift.

While Bucky's apartment was bare, yours was furnished down to the last bit of space. Antiques were hung on walls or sat on shelves, some of them things that he'd seen and used back in the day, and Bucky shut the door and locked it tightly, kicking his shoes off at the door and walking into the kitchen where you had a familiar cookbook open.

"I was thinking of making Chicken à la King."

You looked embarrassed and nervous, but Bucky was given such huge whiplash that the poor man didn't even notice.

"You know about Chicken à la King?"

Your heart was racing, sounding like a drum within your ears, and you averted your gaze; looking nervous and embarrassed while you fidgeted from foot to foot. Your throat was tight, the words getting caught in your throat, and Bucky was surprised by how small you seemed to look.

Had he not been a super soldier, he probably would have missed the words that you whispered softly.

"I...wanted to make it for you."

Bucky's heart began to race, drowning out the sound of your own as blood rushed through his ears, and his face began to get hot. Bucky could feel his toes and fingers tingling, and it was almost a fight to stay rooted in place.

You wanted to make him dinner...a dinner that he hadn't tasted since his childhood, no less...damn near forgotten about it until the words had slipped past your lips in a nervous little whisper that he wanted to swallow.

"You...wanted to make me dinner?"

"Specifically this, yes."

You picked up the book, and Bucky's eyes damn-near bulged from his head when he finally got a good look at the familiar cover.. In your hands was an antique cookbook by Fannie Farmer, almost seeming brand-new judging by the leather cover despite the yellowed paging giving away the age. Bucky stepped forward, and he asked you as he looked at the cookbook.

"Where did you get this?"

"Believe it or not: the internet."

Bucky damn-near rolled his eyes, but he relented, shaking his head.

"I'm surprised you even know about this thing."

"I did some research...looked up what was popular back then, and I just settled on this. It seemed easy...nothing too complicated. I just...thought...maybe that you would like it."

You were curling in on yourself; second-guessing your reasoning, and Bucky would have melted if he didn't notice the tell-tale signs of anxiety. Gently placing his hand on your shoulder, he was taken back by the speed your head turned to look at him; eyes wide as you relaxed beneath his touch.

"If you want the truth: I haven't had this for...a very long time...so I'm not even sure if I remember what it tastes like. I remember how to make it though. I can help...if you'd let me."

A bridge was beginning to solidify between you; a trust between you two becoming reinforced and growing and Bucky wasn't afraid of it this time. In fact, he was beginning to cross that very bridge; searching for your hand and your presence and the calming comfort that came with (Y/n) (L/n).

"You don't think it's weird? I mean, I thought it was a bit weird when Raynor suggested it...I asked for her advice on what you might like cause I wanted to do something nice for you, but then I started to think about it and what better way to the heart than through the stomach? I mean, I'm not exactly the best cook, but I wasn't sure what else to do for you-"

Your nervous rambles were cut off by the feeling of his finger against your lips, a soft look on Bucky's face as he smiled with amusement. Your ears were burning, and you almost fainted when he asked you softly.

"You know what you could do?"

Your eyes were wide; doe-like and staring up at him as if he was the only thing in the world, and Bucky's voice became shaky as he asked you.

"Kiss me?"

The cookbook dropped from your hands, your heart skipping a beat, and you rose onto the tips of your toes to grasp at his cheeks, and Bucky cupped your own so he finger was out of the way. Lips crashing into his own, Bucky was finally in heaven. Whether you had meant to or not, your power was going haywire, your emotions flooding into his and vice versa; almost as if the bridge was finally complete.

You never needed to tell him that you loved him. Bucky knew it with the way you handled him even in the beginning when your friendship was just a suggestion made by a court-appointed therapist that somehow turned into more because you both were ripped from the same cloth despite the differences in timeline because you understood each other.

Despite the fact that there was a time where he was supposed to hunt you down and eliminate you due to the fact that you knew too much, you never faulted him for that as if you knew what was hiding beneath that mask at the time.

Bucky wouldn't know that it was because you did.

You had been able to access those locked parts of his mind because of your telepathic abilities at the time, but to be fair, he had never asked. Whether it was because he was uncertain or didn't think it was the right time, you didn't think anything more of it.

Just like now: there were no thoughts except for Bucky. Just him. And he could feel it; hear it even within his mind. Whether you meant for your control to become null in that moment, Bucky felt damn near accomplished for being able to make you falter.

If there was one thing you prided yourself on, it was your control.

Fingers danced at the nape of his neck, and a shiver ran down his spine, and though Bucky was damn-near thoughtless, he refrained from swiping the shit on your counter onto the floor so he could seat you atop of it. Instead, Bucky slowly pulled away from the feverish kiss, and you were vibrating within his grasp. Your voice was quiet, shaky and breathless.

"Bucky, would you...want to start dinner and stay the night?"

"Nice to know I'm not so out-of-practice after so many years."

The moment was broken, but you were giggling; looking shy as you took a tempered step back, and Bucky winced slightly. Probably in poor-taste, but you were still smiling, so he wondered if he should keep going or stop before he got too-ahead of himself.

"Would you...like to help me make dinner?"

Bucky nodded almost enthusiastically.

"I would be honored."

If Bucky thought hard enough, he could hear Steve's smug chuckling as you tied a frilly apron around his waist despite Bucky's protests; grumbling to himself as he began to dress the chicken while you put on a record that Bucky knew all-too-well.

"Shut up, punk,"

No, I don't think I will.

[END]

[crepezinhos]

You can ignore this if you'd like and it's understandable but is it alright to request more of the billionaire Scara you did? It could be continuation from where you left off, something else entirely or even a prequel, doesn't matter really as long as you're comfortable writing it-

To Scaramouche ❤️

(REQUEST #3) POV: The day Scaramouche realized just how much he needed you in his miserable, pathetic, loveless life jsut because of a stupid gift you did for him.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a suggestive SFW piece

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— This is an angsty, Yandere oneshot, so there’s some slight toxic and manipulative behavior coming from Scaramouche

— There is a non-consensual kiss and slight make-out session so watch out if you have any triggers to assault

— Reading of the original post is advised

“Thank you so much for bringing me back, Scaramouche…” You thanked him as he sat you down in your bed, feeling the effects of all that alcohol you had drunk finally drift away.

He had just wasted his time driving you back to college and carried you in his back all the way to your dorm. You felt really bad for giving him a duty in a day that was supposed to be all about partying, drinking and relaxing, but his face was careless as always...

Does this guy really dislike parties..? But why..? He would probably have so much fun…

“No problem.” He said, stepping away to get out of your dorm. “Good night, Y/N.” He said, already ready to close the door.

Is this guy really fast or are you just really drunk?

“Wait!” You shouted, making him instantly stop closing the door and look at you. “Come here.” You said with a growing smirk in your face.

You had the perfect idea to thank him for his effort in taking care of you.

Scaramouche obeyed and gently approached your bed, sitting down next to you.

“Yes?” He replied.

“I have something for you…” You told him, trying to make him excited, but he didn’t move a single muscle. “It’s a very special gift…” You tried to make him excited again, but failed again.

“What is it?” He asked.

“It’s in the first drawer.” You answered trying no to spoil him, pointing to the only table in the room.

Scaramouche’s eyes followed the movement of your hands, meeting the table you were talking about. He quickly got up, walked to it and opened the drawer while staring down at it. But as expected, he wasn’t sure on what to pick due to the amount of other things there, so you felt like hinting him more.

“It has your name on it.” You guided Scaramouche, who quickly spotted what you were talking about and took it out of the drawer.

“To Scaramouche ❤️ ”

(Or Kunikuzushi Raiden)

By Y/N Y/S!

Was written in the envelope’s cover very clearly in case the name “Scaramouche” wasn’t identified by the future mailman. But now it wasn’t necessary anymore.

Really? A letter? Well, at least it’s better than loud, junk music blowing my eardrums and watching couples fucking each other in every corner of the place.

And… Y/N isn’t annoying.

Scaramouche walked back to the bed and sat on the same place he did before, still unbothered by the fact that he got a gift, an uncommon one.

“Am I supposed to open it right now?” He asked, looking to you after staring at the letter for a while.

“Yes!” You replied, jumping closer to him, excited to see how would he react to it.

“Are you giving me this because I helped you get out of the party?”

“Kinda! Did you see the other letters in the drawer?”

“Yeah.”

“I wanted to give them all away to my friends and boyfriend in the last day of school, but, since you were so kind, I’ll make a discount for you!” You blinked to him, still not managing to rip out any emotions from him.

“You don’t need to, I don’t like parties anyway, so I’m relieved to be back and for a good reas—” He said, trying to give you the envelope back.

“Read. It.” You ordered with a sly smile, making Scaramouche sigh, but still obey you.

He looked back at the letter and begun undoing it carefully. And after some quiet seconds, Scaramouche finally managed to safely pull out the actual letter from it, resting the envelope aside for the moment.

He took a quick look at all the text written in that piece of paper before looking at you again.

“Do you want me to read it out loud?” He asked.

“The choice is yours!” You replied, barely containing your excitement.

Scaramouche shook his shoulders before beginning to pay all his attention to the letter, reading the information in it.

Initially, he was completely careless about it since he did not know what the letter was about. You could see his eyes suddenly skip a whole word or line, which made you feel slightly angry, but soon, this behavior would start to change.

God… so many words… do I really have to read this..?

Well… I guess I have no other option.

“Hi, Scara! First of all, I’d like to start this letter by wishing you a very good Christmas and New Year, even if you’re not excited for them at all!

At least she got this right…

The day we met was very weird, wasn’t it? Me, just randomly telling you a bunch of advice you never asked for, and you starting at me like you wanted to see blood coming out of my face... I have to admit that I was very nosy and annoying, but I don’t think it matters anymore, does it? Because honestly, we’ve grown so close from each other that now I view that day as just another common day of us! I don’t want to get too serious in this letter since it’s just a silly tradition of the school to celebrate New Years, but you should definitely know just how much I appreciate you! You’ve helped me with math multiple times, made me laugh multiple times, spoiled me multiple times… you’re the only one who doesn’t see it! I know I can be annoying sometimes, but it’s impossible to not mess with that grumpy face of yours! And you know that deep down you like when I mess around with you or the other way around! ;)

You’d be surprised if you found out just how many girls are genuinely interested in you. Yeah, yeah, they think about your money a lot, but if you gave them a chance, you could change their minds just like you changed mine! Yes, Scaramouche, I used to think of you as a “cold, billionaire hottie who seems fun to mess with” like you were some sort of male-lead character in a cliche romance, but then we became friends and I started to realize just how cruel my interpretation of you was. You’re a wonderful person and friend, Scaramouche. I know you don’t like your roommate, but you should definitely give him a shot! I think he just wants to have fun with you just like I wanted too. I really hope that this message will make you love yourself more, because you really have no reasons to h0•

“Huh?” You asked, spotting a sudden problem in the letter as you read it with him quietly.

You leaned closer to the letter, trying to find out what happened to that word.

It was a tiny wet spot.

“When did this…” You were about to ask, but another drop of water fell in another corner of the letter.

That was weird… It wasn’t raining today, nor could it be raining inside the building, so…

!!

You gasped in realization of what was going on, and just to make sure, you looked up to Scaramouche.

He was sobbing, completely frozen in his place as he only gripped on the paper tighter and tighter.

“Ohhh… Scara!” You whined with a smile in your face as jumped to his direction to hug him.

He flinched when he felt your arms circle around his neck, instantly putting the letter aside to fight you back.

“N-No! Stop it! I’m not crying!” He argued, crying harder than he was as he turned his face around so you’d not see him so.

“Don’t worry, Scara! It’s ok!” You said very gently to him as you tried to move your hands to his cheeks.

After some seconds of ignoring his hands pushing your chest away, you finally managed to place your hands at his cheeks and pull his face to your direction, forcing eye contact even if he was trying to his best to avoid it.

He was so embarrassed that he didn’t have courage to say anything to you, and just allowed you to caress his red cheeks very gently, wiping the incoming tears away.

The more you did so, the more he realized that what you were doing was not an attack, the more he calmed down.

“Cry.” You ordered with a gentle smile in your face, trying to make him feel as comfortable as possible.

That sweet command made his eyes instantly wet, but he still held his tears.

“N-No, I can’t cry… not in front of you…” He complained, moving his hands to your wrists to push them away from his face as he tried to turn his face away too.

But you were quick enough to react and unexpectedly hugged him by the neck very tight, your chests and shoulders touching each other.

“It’s ok, Scaramouche… you can cry on me.” You whispered at his ear very gently too, making him and his voice finally break down like you wanted him to do on you.

Thankfully, the dress you were wearing did not cover your shoulders, so he would not ruin it in any way.

No… what am I doing? Y/N is witnessing me cry, she’s witnessing a moment of weakness and vulnerability. She’s going to take advantage of this, isn’t she? She’s gonna tell everyone about this, isn’t she? She’s going to humiliate me for not being tough enough to heir my mother’s job, right?

Then why is she only hugging me?!

Tears are ugly, crying is ugly. I’ve watched her sob once and I found it ugly, so why is she embracing me crying so miserably? She must be finding this funny or disgusting, it can’t be. But why do I feel like I don’t believe my own words? Why is my body only getting weaker and warmer in her embrace when I’m telling myself to not?

Why am I… surrendering..?

“I’m sorry… I went too far with it, didn’t I?” You asked as you cuddled his head, giggling at yourself.

“No…” Scaramouche replied with an unstable voice, almost drooling in your back as he shoved his head further in your shoulder. “I… needed…” He tried forming a phrase, but just couldn’t bring himself to.

Deep down, you did not regret writing those triggering words. You always knew that Scaramouche needed to hear them and be embraced like this. You knew that if there wasn’t the context of the letter being a tradition of the school, Scaramouche would’ve shut you down long time ago. He doesn’t like to talk about himself, his past and thoughts, no matter how much you try to make him do so.

Y/N… Y/N… Y/N…

Why do I only think of her now? This moment is supposed to be about me, not her, so why am I craving for her? This feels like a Déjà vu… this isn’t the first time I catch myself thinking about he like this, isn’t it?

I don’t like how much I feel safe with her. I’ve always lived in a safe zone where I saw the world as a dark and cruel place, a disappointment of all those years of history, but she forced me out of it. She brought the light that I needed, the comfort I never had, not even in my mother’s embrace.

Why did I even try to stop her from hugging me before..?

Doesn’t matter, I don’t want to leave anymore.

I want her hugging me just like this forever.

I want her.

I need her.

I don’t care if you have a boyfriend, Y/N, I need this…

Scaramouche suddenly lifted his head up again like it was very heavy, staring at you with that teary, whiny face. Just as you did moments ago, you moved your hands to his cheeks and caressed him very gently.

But Scaramouche did not react the way you expected him to. He didn’t fight you back, nor let himself accept your cuddles and melt in comfort.

Fuck it.

You felt his hans move very quickly from your back to your cheeks too, but before you could even react to it, he pulled your head hard against him and brought your lips together in a kiss.

What?

Ah… ahhh…

Her lips are so soft…

They don’t deserve to taste like alcohol… or be savored by a man like her boyfriend. He’s probably still drowning himself in alcohol and other girls’ bodies right now anyway… so I don’t feel the tiniest bad for him.

If it wasn’t for me taking her home, something that her boyfriend should’ve done, she’d be a lost, drunk worm, completely vulnerable to any kind of assault.

Ugh… why does this make me feel so good? To get my tongue inside her warm, tasty mouth and force her tongue to move with mine as she groans in discomfort, and I in pleasure. It feels so good to be tasting her so privately… I want more…

What the heck is he doing?

You have a boyfriend, you are devoted to him.

You started trying to push him away.

“Sca—!” You tried calling out, but he shoves his head just further in yours, shutting you up entirely.

I know what you want to say, Y/N, but hearing just a slight syllable of my nickname coming out of your mouth like a moan just makes me more amused.

You felt Scaramouche move his hands to your wrists, laying in his chest aggressively, and push them on the sides of your head, then, your entire body into the bed.

What the fuck?! Is he drunk?! That would be the only reason why he’s doing this because he has always known that you have a boyfriend and are loyal to him.

Your legs, the only parts of your body that weren’t being blocked by him, begun trying to kick him, to either push him away or cause pain.

I’m overstepping a limit, aren’t I..?

I will stop when I hear the words come out of her mouth, but since she can’t find the room to do so, I’ll enjoy this moment as much as I can…

At least just once…

You heard Scaramouche moan as he took his tongue out of your mouth for a quick moment to breathe.

He’s feeling pleasure in this..?

No, not today… you will not allow him to continue to kiss you without your permission.

You saw Scaramouche swallow a big chunk of saliva, getting to ready to kiss you again.

“STOP!” You screamed while turning your face away when you saw him launch his lips to yours again.

Scaramouche stopped, but didn’t dare reverse his actions, so he just let his lips rest centimeters away from yours. You could hear him breathe and feel his breath warming that chunk of your skin due to the closure of your bodies.

I was so close… but I have to stop.

You felt his grip on your wrists weaken, which made you instantly react and jump out from under his body. You didn’t have much space to move nor get off the bed, so you crawled back until your back touching the wall, sitting on top of the pillow with your knees bent, ready to defend yourself if necessary. You kept staring at him fearfully as you breathed frenetically, while he kept on the same position, staring back at you with a weird look, like he was surprised at what he did too.

But you were angry, angry at him possibly ruining your relationship with your boyfriend and at his insistence in kissing you even if you were obviously fighting him back.

“Y/N—” He tried calling you out, but you didn’t want to hear anything else from him anymore.

SLAP!

Scaramouche instantly leaned his body up again, resting a hand on the cheek you had striked. Due to the space he unintentionally gave you with that move, you jumped out of the bed and set a safe distance between you two.

“Get out.” You ordered, standing up very firmly.

“I’m so—” He tried reaching out a hand.

“Out!” You ordered again, this time more loud, making Scaramouche tremble.

He stared at you in silence for some awkward seconds before standing up too.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as he turned around to grab the letter and the envelope. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just… I don’t know… but I’m sorry.” He apologized again as he realized you didn’t stop him from talking.

Shit, shit, shit… I might have ruined everything..

How the fuck do I even apologize for something like this? Would she even forgive me? I don’t know yet, but I can start by obeying her orders.

Scaramouche walked away from your dorm very quickly and embarrassed, his cheeks flushed in red.

.

“I really hope that this message will make you love yourself more, because you really have no reasons to h0•.o yourself.

“Hate”… it’s the only word that matches with this phrase.

After a whole year without opening this letter and thinking about what was the word my tears erased and what was the ending of it, the promise I made to myself was finally accomplished.

Don’t EVER forget that you’re more than your career, Scaramouche. I want you to look at yourself in the mirror and view the man you truly are instead of a heir project to your mother.

I dearly hope you have a wonderful year and that you get your graduation! :)

Sincerely, Y/N Y/S ❤️”

…

Haha…

Hahahahahahahahaha!

Ah… Y/N…

If only I didn’t make this stupid promise of only finishing this letter when I married you… I’d do exactly as you said in this letter and eventually feel a thousand times better about myself! After what I did that day, I went back to my dorm and stared at letter for many minutes in my bed, unsure of what to do with it. But my roommate, that stupid fucking stoner, Kaedehara Kazuha, ripped it out of my hand, read it all, and told me that if I was emotional with that, I was in love with her.

I initially laughed it off but… he was right, I was in love with Y/N. Love was such a new feeling for me and my corrupted heart that its toxicity made me promise to myself that I would conquer her heart one day, no matter what I have to do. She was such a kind soul that she forgave me after a week without contacting her… it was lovely. I would never let such pure soul go because she already had a lover. He sucks anyway, I’m much better. I need that silly smile of hers, that embrace, that love… everything of her.

Well… it doesn’t matter anymore… today is the day~.

I can hear the sweet wedding melodies playing in the room where the most important event of my life was going to happen as I prepare myself for it in an isolated dressing room. I can’t wait to see how she’ll be looking like in a white dress walking in the aisle in my direction… she’ll probably be looking divine just like everything else today..! For once in my life, my mother was actually helpful to me and paid for everything in this marriage to make it look divine as it is just because I managed to meet her standards in my graduation and to heir the bank when she retired, even if she did not like Y/N.

Well, fuck her. Y/N managed to become a bigger priority in my life than my mother in less than a year compared to the 19 years of her raising me.

God… I’m so nervous…

I looked at the mirror in front of me in that small dressing room. For the first time in many years, I genuinely smiled at myself, proud of what I managed to achieve.

Haha…

What a wonderful day…

(Please do not consider the blood in the art) Art Credits

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it <3

Original Post, Sequel

Taglist: @seimio-inari @iruma-chan @vxcmx @litchar-o

[bimbodolllll]

could you please write oneshot about how mitsuya will behave in love (when he is somewhere around 12-13 years old), and also about how his friends will tease him/help him, he seems pretty serious but I'm just curious how he would act

۶ৎ Stitched With Love

۶ৎ auth: 2/3 posted. I’ve had these done, but oven out all day, I hope you like this one<3

۶ৎ Summary: He’s level headed, always composed. That was until he seen you.

۶ৎ: oneshot | female reader. | fluff

۶ৎ Characters Included: Mitsuya Takashi

Mitsuya was only twelve, but he carried himself like someone far older. While most kids his age were still figuring out what they wanted to be, Mitsuya already had a purpose—taking care of his sisters, protecting his family, and honing his craft with a quiet, steady resolve. He had no time for childish crushes or silly distractions.

Or at least… that’s what he told himself.

Until she came along.

It started innocently enough. She was a classmate, someone who had just transferred into their school a few months ago. She wasn’t loud or flashy—she was kind, soft-spoken, and always had a warm smile for everyone. But for some reason, whenever she smiled at him, Mitsuya felt something… different. Something that made his cheeks warm and his thoughts stumble.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but one day, he realized he was watching her more often than he should—taking note of how she tilted her head when she was confused, how her fingers tapped lightly against her desk when she was deep in thought. And when she laughed? God. Mitsuya was done for.

“Oi, Takashi…”

Mitsuya blinked, pulled from his thoughts as Draken’s voice cut through his daydream. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring in her direction.

“Hmm?” He tried to play it cool, but Draken’s raised brow told him he wasn’t fooling anyone.

“You’ve been staring at her for five minutes, bro,” Draken smirked, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall outside the school.

“Five whole minutes,” Baji chimed in, a devilish grin tugging at his lips as he slung an arm around Mitsuya’s shoulders. “You tryna sew her a love letter or somethin’, Mitsuya?”

“Shut up.” Mitsuya’s ears turned pink as he shrugged Baji’s arm off, trying to look unaffected.

“Ohhh, look at him!” Baji cackled, nudging Draken. “Our boy’s got it bad!”

“I don’t ‘got it’ anything,” Mitsuya mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking away. But his face betrayed him—his cheeks were practically glowing.

“Bro,” Draken’s tone was amused but serious enough to catch Mitsuya’s attention. “Just talk to her.”

“Yeah,” Baji added with a grin that was way too mischievous for Mitsuya’s comfort. “Or should I go tell her for you? I mean, I am pretty good with words.”

“Baji.” Mitsuya gave him a look, but the heat in his face only intensified.

“C’mon, Mitsuya,” Draken nudged him lightly. “You’re not gonna get anywhere just staring at her like a lost puppy.”

Mitsuya sighed, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t used to this—this feeling. It made him feel… unbalanced. Like his usual steady control was slipping every time she so much as looked his way,

But before he could answer, Mikey appeared, practically bouncing with excitement.

“Yo! Who are we talking about?”

Baji’s grin widened. “Oh, just Mitsuya’s crush.”

Mitsuya groaned, covering his face with his hand. “I hate all of you.”

“Wait, Mitsuya has a crush?!” Mikey’s eyes widened like a kid who just discovered a new flavor of candy. “No way! Who is it? Who is it?”

“I’m leaving.” Mitsuya turned to walk away, but Baji grabbed his collar, yanking him back with ease.

“Not so fast, lover boy.”

“Guys, I’m not—”

“Dude.” Draken cut him off, his tone calmer but still laced with amusement. “Seriously. Just talk to her. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The worst? Mitsuya could think of a lot of things. What if she didn’t feel the same? What if he embarrassed himself? What if—

“Fine,” Mitsuya muttered, exhaling slowly. He couldn’t believe he was actually considering it. “But if this goes bad… I’m blaming all of you.”

“Deal,” Baji grinned. “Now go, Casanova.”

—

The next day, Mitsuya tried.

He really did.

He waited until lunch, choosing a moment when she was sitting by herself, quietly sketching in her notebook. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it.

“Hey.”

She looked up, her warm eyes meeting his. And just like that, Mitsuya forgot how to breathe.

“Hi, Mitsuya,” she said softly, her smile making his brain short-circuit.

Okay. Say something. Anything.

“Um… I noticed you like to draw,” he said, mentally kicking himself for how awkward he sounded.

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up, and she closed her notebook shyly. “Yeah… it’s just a hobby. I’m not very good yet.”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” Mitsuya said, his lips tugging into a small smile. “I sew. I mean… I make clothes. It’s kinda my thing.”

“Really?” She looked genuinely interested, and Mitsuya felt the knot in his chest loosen a little.

“Yeah…” He scratched the back of his neck, his nerves settling. “If you ever want, I could… show you some designs? Or maybe… we could… y’know… work on something together?”

Her smile grew, and Mitsuya felt that unfamiliar warmth flood his chest again.

“I’d like that,” she said softly.

—

By the time Mitsuya rejoined his friends, his face was still pink, but his heart felt lighter than it had in days.

“Well?” Draken asked, a knowing look on his face.

“She said yes,” Mitsuya mumbled, a shy but satisfied smile tugging at his lips.

“He did it!” Baji whooped, punching the air like they’d just won a fight. “Our boy’s growing up!”

Mikey practically beamed. “I knew you had it in you, Mitsuya!”

“Shut up.” Mitsuya tried to sound annoyed, but he couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to start calling him Lover Boy Takashi now,” Baji teased, grinning ear to ear.

Mitsuya just shook his head, but for once… he didn’t mind.

[roomwithanopenfire]

Stats Sunday

Happy March!! Thanks for the tag @nausikaaa! Unfortunately, my goal is to make this banner worse every month, so be prepared—we've only just begun.

Early post for me. I should be sleeping but I started making my graphs and then... well, here we are.

Here's my February Recap loll. Stats and graphs and musings incoming. (this post is so long but i promise there's a snippet in here)

Rest of post is under the cut. It is long. You've been warned.

I've posted two things last month! A valentine's day fic for Ebb/Fiona and Chapter 3 of the Way We Are. (Technically i posted 3 but this stranger things oneshot was posted on the 1st and written in January so it feels like January's accomplishment)

Total words written for February: 14405 (this beats Jan by 460 words!)

Days I met my writing goal (200 words): 20

Days I didn't write or edit anything: 4

Day I wrote the most: Feb 11th with 2249 (this beats last month's high score of 1717!)

Number of Fics worked on: 10 technically, but i have not been consistent with most of them. mainly worked on 3.

Daily Average: 514 words (but like last month i am highly inconsistent and my WC varies wildy depending on the day)

(I really like the little curve in the middle. also two the days that look like zero are actually 1 words, which is my placeholder if i spend all day editing)

And here's a pie chart to show my WC distribution across projects. Tbh a lot of these were fics that i've had in my fic ideas doc and all i did was make a google doc for them and word barf onto it my ideas, that's why there's so many small slices.

some slices are so small you don't even get to know my placeholder names. also i hope the title THTHIPWGI intrigues you, i'm always excited when i can title a fic right away and refer to it by a fun accyromn on my spreadsheet.

Other notable things from February:

I finished writing all of The Way We Are!! (kind of. i have one more scene to write. Monica's fault.)

I took over the @carry-on-sapphic-week event!! Check out the prompts if you haven't yet <3

I've received So Many beautiful valentines from the CO discord servers exchange. my mailbox and my heart has been full

The CO fandom was able to raise $500 for Fandom Trumps Hate!! (and I got to make a spreadsheet bc of this!!!) (also i won two auctions from this, one for each fandom i'm in)

My car battery died and I had to get a new one :/

I started a new journal!

I finally figured out how to spell February

my savage worlds campaign finally got our ship back and made it off this stupid planet that we've been on forever.

i've started watching Yellowjackets and I'm really enjoying it

I read so many CO AU fest fics and each one of them was so good. I think i've read all except one so far, and honestly this fest has been so fun i'm obsessed with you guys, you're are so talented.

SPEAKING of CO AU fest fics, @fiend-for-culture's fic, Everything In Between, is SO good, i've been thinking about it all week. you should read it (and leave a comment so i can read it bc i'm stalking the comments on this fic and there's not enough to sate me)

i have spring break in just one week!!

Okay, i promised you words, so here's a snip from my COBB.

“And I’m sorry,” Simon says. “For what?” “Driving you off yesterday.” “That wasn’t your fault. I was being terrible.” “Yeah,” Simon agrees. “But I shouldn’t have dismissed you like that.” I make a face. “I’m not having a heart-to-heart with you, Snow.” Simon groans. “Why do you have to do that?" "What" "Everytime I think we're making progress you say something nasty like that."

sorry this post is so long, thank you for reading if you made it this far

tags, hellos, and apologies:

@alexalexinii @aristocratic-otter @argumentativeantitheticalg @artsyunderstudy @arthurkko

@beastmonstertitan @blackberrysummerblog @best--dress @bookishbroadwayandblind @bookish-bogwitch

@the-beard-of-edward-teach @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cccloudsss @ciescen @confused-bi-queer

@cutestkilla @drowninginships @facewithoutheart @emeryhall @fiend-for-culture

@hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife @theimpossibledemon @jyae23

@larkral @lovelettersto-mars @meanjeansjeans @m1ndwinder @monbons

@noblecorgi @orange-peony @prettygoododds @raenestee @rimeswithpurple

@run-for-chamo-miles @rbkzz @shrekgogurt @simonscones @skee3000

@supercutedinosaurs @sweetronancer @talentpiper11 @toc-the-scrambled @thewholelemon

@valeffelees @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

added some new ppl to this tag list, feel free to share a wip you're working on—art, fic, etc. it does not have to stats like mine is loll. i use wipsdays as my soapbox.

[poetryandfluffycats]

OKAY. since reqs are open uhm would you write madara cucking kuro plz...

like literally fucking fem!reader getting fucked, kuro's clothed boner pressed to her cheek while he kinda js sits back in shock and doesn't know what to do while mama is fucking her rrroughhhh and is like "you like my cock that much? kuros right there you'll make him angry" and shit. idk DOES THIS MAKE SENSE but yeah 🫶🏻

-🍓anon

A/N: I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE PLOT OMG SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I hope it's too ur liking I may have gone off the rails a little bit....

Pairing: Kuro Kiryu x fem!reader x Madara Mikejima

Content: Madaras into you, everyone and their dog knows that. Only problem is, you have a boyfriend.

Warnings: NSFW, dub-con, slut-shaming, oral sex(f receiving), cuckolding, dry humping, sexual harassment(?), mentions of cheating, established relationship with kuro, ooc madara(?), they're both ooc tbh💀, porn with plot

Words: 2.1k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Have Him Watch?~

It was no secret that Madara had a thing for you. He had made his advances-both romantic and sexual alike-very obvious to you and everyone else, not even hesitating to flirt with you right in front of your own boyfriend, Kuro.

Kuro wasn't the type to let himself fall into petty jealousy, he knew you loved him and that nothing would never change that. Therefore, he hardly batted an eye whenever Madara made another stuipd comment about your body, or when his hands would linger for just a bit too long. It was better to simply ignore him and wait for Madara to get the hint. Kuro knew he was strong, but to pick a fight with Madara? Death wish.

So, he didn't aggravate him in any way, letting the bigger man do this thing until he realised he had no chance with you. Which is why he was confused when Madara cornered him in the gym one day, his teeth gleaming in his signature smirk.

"Kuro! My friend, my pal! Got a minute?" He beamed, slinging his arm around Kuros shoulders and pulling him in close, squeezing so hard you'd think he was trying to suffocate him.

"Uh, I'm a bit busy right now" Kuro pushed him off, dusting himself off and returning his attention to the weights he had been lifting. "Maybe later"

Madara smile didn't waver, if anything it only grew in size. Clearly, he had no interest in leaving anytime soon, not even when Kuro desperately wanted him too. Whatever Madara wanted from him, he didn't have the time for it. Not now, hopefully not ever.

"Ah, cmon! It'll only take a second!" He chirped, plopping down on the bench beside Kuro, crossing his legs and watching as the redhead started his reps. "Hey, working hard or hardly working, am I right? Hahaha~"

"Out with it, Mikejima" Kuro grunted, resisting the urge to smash his weights straight in the mans face. All he wanted was a peaceful workout, was that too much to ask for?

Madara laughed, waving his hand dismissively as if to clear the tension. "Always so blunt, I've always liked that about you y'know!" He grinned, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "So, you and (name), huh? How serious have you gotten with her? Is it marriage?"

Now he was just starting to piss him off. How was this any of his business? Sure, you and Madara were friends, but where did he get off asking for details about your relationship?

"She's my girl, yeah" Kuro answered, praying that his short replies would deter him from the conversation. If that was even possible.

"Right, right. And just hypothetically, if she were to cheat on you, would you be mad?"

Kuro tighten his grip on the weights, his knuckles turning white at the strain. "What are you getting at? You trying to start something?" He said through gritted teeth, shooting a glare in the brunettes direction.

Madara chuckled, putting one hand up in defence and using the other to playfully slap Kuro on the shoulder-a gesture that he did not appreciate, might I add. "Woah! Easy, I don't wanna fight ya! I'm just curious. Hey, maybe you'd let her cheat on you, I don't know what you're into!"

Kuro dropped the weights, the metal making a loud 'clunk' sound as they hit the floor, causing the other members of the gym to look over and stare at the two. Not that he gave a damn, oh no. Not when this clown was making a scene. How dare he suggest you would have an affair? Was he out of his mind?

"What's wrong with you? Of course I'd be mad, what makes you think I'd be cool with that? Get lost man" He spat, shoving him aside as he rose to his feet. The blood rushing through his veins felt as if it was burning as he sped away, not wanting to spend another second with such a fool.

What even was that? Kuro had gotten used to Madaras teasing and loud personality. Hell, he'd even grown to enjoy it to an extent. But this was just insulting. Why was he even saying those things? Did he know something Kuro didn't? Had you....

No, that was silly. You would never be unfaithful, that just wasn't you at all. Yet here he was, images flooding his mind of you tangled in Madaras arms, both of your bodies sticky with sweat and cum as you screamed his name. It was disgusting.

But so, so hot.

Shit.

/-----

You and Madara were friends. It was normal for friends to hang out alone in each other's bedrooms, even if they were the opposite gender, right?

Yeah, of course it was fine! Who were you kidding, it was perfectly acceptable.

You two were good friends, the best of friends! So it was normal for him to hug you, to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and pull you closer. He was a touchy person, after all. It was totally okay for him to nuzzle into your neck and inhale the smell of your perfume, to pepper kisses all over your jawline, to grind his erection against your ass-

Wait a minute.

"H-hey! What are you doing?" You yelped, squirming around in his grasp in a feeble attempt to escape his hold. It didn't matter how close you were, there was no way you'd be comfortable with this!

"What's wrong?" He cooed, your wiggling only seeming to excite him further as he continued his humping. "Friends cuddle all the time! Or are we not friends anymore?"

"This isn't cuddling! This is-ah! This is, oh fuck! This is sexual harassment, you perverted fuck!" You cursed yourself for allowing your voice to crack, letting those dreaded moans spill out like you were some whore who enjoyed this. Which, of course, you didn't! You didn't like it, right? Dammit!

"Sexual harassment, huh? If that's what floats your boat" Madara chuckled, pushing his hands past the hem of your skirt, groping the soft flesh of your thighs.

You squirmed around, hitting at his chest and clawing at his arms. It was no use, damn him and his muscles! In this position all you could do was stand there and take it, because in all honesty, you knew that no amount of protesting would get him to stop. Even of you did get away, it wouldn't be for long, Madara was as stubborn as ever and you knew for a fact that he wasn't afraid to use force to get his way.

You just didn't realize that part of him would ever show itself to you.

"Kuro. Kuro will be home soon, and he'll-ah! He'll kick your ass!" You threatened, snapping your head around to glare at the man behind you. Using Kuro as a form of defence probably wasn't the best idea, but it was your last resort. Begging and trying to fight back certainly didn't work against Madara.

He just laughed. "Maybe we can have him watch"

"What do you-"

A sudden knock at the door cut you off, the familiar voice of your beloved boyfriend coming from behind it. "Uh, (name)? Do you have someone over? Why's the door shut? Can I come in?"

Oh fuck. No!

It suddenly dawned on you just how horrible this would look to Kuro, you pinned against another man with his hands up your skirt? Anyone would think you were a cheating whore! No matter how much you tried to explain the situation, it would still look the same. You had dug your own grave by even letting Madara come over!

Madara pressed his lips to your earlobe, nipping on the soft flesh and whispering lowly, "Do you want me to stop?"

Yes! No! Maybe?

God, why did it have to feel so fucking good?

"Babe? I'm coming in"

"Wait-ah-no! Don't-"

Too late.

The door swung open, the face of your wide-eyed and shocked boyfriend sending a wave of guilt down your spine. He looked at you, then Madara, then you again, his mouth opening and closing but no words coming out, only surprised mumbles and stutters.

You honestly couldn't tell if he was angry, sad, confused, aroused, maybe a mix of all three? And it didn't help that you were unaware of what emotions you should have been feeling either. Should you scream for help, or moan in pleasure? Push Madara away or pull him closer?

"Kuro... this isn't..." You started, trailing off when you glanced over the very obvious tent in the redheads jeans. Oh. Oh shit.

So he was aroused by this? What even was this? Some twisted form of roleplay? A fetish that the two men discussed that you didn't know about? Did Kuro actually like this, or was his body reacting subconsciously?

Either way, you didn't have much time to think about it before Madara picked you up from under your thighs and tossed you onto the bed like a ragdoll, wasting no time in climbing in between your thighs and nuzzling his nose into your panties.

"Mm~ You smell so good" He purred, the vibrations of his voice sending a wave of pleasure to your core, a gasp mixed with a whorey moan leaving your lips at the feeling.

The redhead in the doorway cleared his throat, footsteps echoing in the room as he made his way over to where you lay on the bed. He sat down beside you, a hand coming out to gently stroke your cheek. It was a soothing action. One that might have made your heart melt if there wasn't another man currently lapping at your panties like a starved dog.

"Is this okay? I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about it first.." He apologised, his face flushed pink and his lips turned upwards into a small smile. "Just tell me if your not enjoying it and I'll kick him out, alright? That's okay?"

You gulped, then nodded, bringing your own hand up to hold his as you squirmed around on the mattress, your mind slowly but surely becoming goo at the pleasure spreading through your veins.

"Ah!- I don't know"- Madara looked up at you with those big brown eyes, choosing that moment to flatten his tongue against your clothed clit, making a show of slurping and smacking his lips together -"f-fuck yes! Oh god, please!"

With consent finally granted, Madara hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down in a second and diving straight into the heat of your pussy. He flicked his tongue up and down, side to side, round in circles and everywhere he could possibly reach inside of you.

Anything to make you scream his name, and scream his name you did. You threw your head to the side, falling into Kuros lap, as he brushed over that one spot, a spot that not even Kuro had reached before.

"Shit! Right there! Ah-ha~ Madara" You cried out, wrapping your legs around his head in a death grip, shoving his tongue even further inside you. "So good!"

He pulled his tounge out of your wet hole, opting to swirl and flick it over your clit. You withered and squirmed around on the bed, griping onto the sheets as hard as possible. The knot in your lower belly was starting to build, and both Madara and Kuro could tell. Your whole body felt as if it was on fire under Madaras touch, every inch of your body begging for release.

It just felt so good. So, so, so good-

"Ah-gonna cum!"

Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, toes curling and eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your lips parted and you were panting so heavy you barely had enough breath left in your lungs to moan or even scream. Juices splattered all over the face of the man in between your legs, dripping down his chin as he drank it up like it was the finest wine in the world.

Madara pulled away from your swollen cunt, climbing up onto the bed and hovering above you, leaning down to capture your lips in a quick kiss.

"Aren't you a little slut, huh? Getting off on my tongue while your boyfriend watched? You came so quickly, does he not treat you right?" He cooed, brushing a strand of hair away from your eyes.

Kuro, who had been dead quiet the whole time, finally spoke up. "You didn't have to be so rough with her" He grumbled, stroking the top of your head.

Madara huffed, a grin tugging at his lips. "She loves it! Don't you know what your own girlfriend likes?" He rolled his eyes before returning his attention back to your blissed-out form. "Ready for more, sweetheart?"

[emeritus-fuckers]

Ghost reaction to finding fanfic you write of them (smut, fluff or angst idrc) also feel free to ignore lovely

Papas reacting to fanfiction

WARNING: Copia's section includes Rite Here Rite Now spoilers.

Primo (he/him)

Reacting to „Souls on Fire” ♡ Yandere!Papa Emeritus I x Reader oneshot

Primo sat down to read after a long day in the garden, glasses perched on the end of his nose. You knotted your fingers together, you'd really taken some liberties imagining his younger self. Why were you even letting him read this?!

Despite your nerves, Primo seemed more and more delighted as he read. A small chuckle escaping him now and then.

"Ah yes, my younger brothers..." he mused to himself. "Such an adorably sinful handful."

He carried reading enthralled by every word. When he finished he turned to you with a truly devilish smile.

"Amore, it has been so long since someone has seen me for anything other than a wise old man who tends his garden."

"I think I know you better than most do." You winked with an awkward little giggle.

"Yes, you do." He says with a smile, then his expression turns serious "How did you find all this out?"

You eyes widen.

"The accuracy..." he shakes his head in dismay as you blanch.

"She was wonderful, I remember her well, she had a bit of a habit of running away... I can take you to meet her?" Primo looked so serious but his eyes gleamed with mischief. "In the cemetery, I sometimes still sit and watch her grave." You aren't sure whether to believe him or not and narrow your eyes.

"You won't leave me, will you amore? Because I can make you stay."

You hurled the nearest cushion at him. "I dare you try it, old man."

He scoffed and placed your laptop carefully down before holding his arms out for you. You couldn't say no to that adorable and loving smile.

"See, I have you completely under my spell." He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Prick." You mutter.

"That is not very polite, amore. If it makes you feel better, I love your writing. Luckily for you I am not a... 'yandere', but I do have an interesting past. I might tell you more of it if you promise to keep it to yourself and only yourself." Primo says with a kiss to your cheek.

Secondo (he/him)

Reacting to Day 23 of Kinktober: Blood - Papa Emeritus II

Secondo is not the one to snoop. He trusts you with his life. With his being. The Siblings of the Ministry, however? They are. They absolutely are. They also are completely unable to stay silent. So, when they blabber about you? He listens. He honestly just wanted to make sure that they weren't saying anything that he needed to... handle. He would never let anyone talk behind your back.

But they were blabbering about a story you written.. about Him. And that's what truly got his attention. Why hadn't you shown him before this point, anyways?

It didn't take him long to find the fic on his phone, he did have your writing blog on every platform, after all. Poker face on as usual as his eyes scanned over the words, carefully taking in each and every word. Memorizing them. Greeting you as usual as you walked into your twos shared chambers. Nodding and giving you a kiss, asking how your day was going and pointing you to the dinner he had made, as always. Going right back to reading, when he was done. Which wasn't odd, he was often stuck in a book, online or a physical one.

He doesn't say a thing for a few weeks. Bordering on a month. Just... waiting.

Not until your period, that is. He wakes you up with soft words and soft kisses, making you giggle happily, joining you with a shower and a wonderful breakfast, then gently leading you back to bed. Before harshly grabbing your wrists, asking for a safe word, and then doing Every. Single. Thing. You had written, keeping each moment to how you written it, and even going back to match it.

Perhaps a bit more mean, honestly.

Terzo (he/they)

Reacting to “Love Story” Terzo x f!reader one shot (READ CW)

Terzo wasn’t one to necessarily snoop at what you were writing. He knew it was your favourite hobby to partake in when you had free time. However, their curiosity got the better of them seeing a song connected to the story you were writing.

He put on the song as he read what you wrote, a little surprised to find it was a story about him. Humming as he began to reading. The first part was unbearably sweet, a smile appearing on his face as he read through. You did have a talent with words.

You walked in to him holding his neck as he read the second part, giving you a look of horror as you stood by. Awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck.

“Cara Mia…should I be concerned about where you got this idea to have Copia pose with my severed head from?”

You didn’t reply, just giving a sheepish smile as you came to lay beside them in bed. Looking at them with an awkward grin. Immediately setting off alarm bells in his mind.

“…you haven’t read the third part yet have you?”

Mismatched eyes returned to the screen as he seemed to fearfully begin reading the next part. His brows furrowing as they tensed up. Holding you close as if you trap you at his side, eyes widening after a few moments. Slowly looking at your sheepish smile.

“First thing amore, we are getting you…a very good therapist. Second…if I ever start acting that way I implore you to actually kill me. I am obsessed with you…but not to that degree.”

He huffed, putting aside the cursed story and stopping the music. Holding you close and breathing in the scent of your shampoo. Relaxing in your presence…

And hoping this inspiration hadn’t come from the bag he had hidden out in the garden…

Copia/Frater Imperator (he/him)

Reacting to Biggering ⸸ Cardinal Copia

Contains spoilers for Rite Here Rite Now.

"Wha- Amore, why would I- she's my mother! I would never-"

Copia stumbled over his words, looking between you and the screen of your laptop. He was just going to look something up real quick (although with his knowledge about modern technology, it wasn't really going to be too quick, but let's not get into those details), unaware that you left your Tumblr up with some sort of... story, as he assumed. He knew you wrote silly stories occasionally, but he never got to actually read any of your works. He got curious, especially seeing his name in the title of the story.

He played the song attached to the thing, since he deduced from the title that it was probably rather important. He knew he shouldn't snoop around, but curiosity got the best of him, as he got his glasses from his pocket and started to read what you wrote. He couldn't believe his eyes, especially at the end. While yes, he did enjoy the fame, he wasn't a villain! And he would never kill his mother, he mourned her death! He was heartbroken when he lost her!

And now, he was struggling to express just how confused he was by what you wrote. Even despite you assuring him you were just having fun with a concept of him, your anxious little ray of sunshine, being evil. A concept he did not really enjoy.

Needless to say, it took a big plate of rigattoni and about an hour of apology cuddles for him to stop pouting about that one little fanfic.

Old Nihil (he/him)

Reacting to “Tattoo” ♡ Old Papa Nihil x female!Reader (smut)

He begged and pleaded for you to let him read it. Hours and hours after he heard you'd written something about him. But you kept going bright red every single time. This story haunted you, it would never go away now that you had finally put pen to paper. You finally gave in when he looked at you with those simpering big eyes. Why not let him read it, it was out there on the Internet and it might actually make Nihil rather happy, even if it did give him a rather in depth view of your imagination.

You passed him a printed copy. He started to read, devouring each word.

At first he kept looking across at you, lounging on the sofa as you watched his every reaction. His gaze often went to your legs, which were covered by your jeans.

You raise an eyebrow, wordlessly daring him to ask, but then he swiftly reached for his oxygen mask and took a large hit.

He must have reached the smutty part.

A playful smile lit up your face as he read on, needing more and more oxygen with every paragraph.

"Ooooh, this is very good." He is transfixed and you are almost as mesmerized by the obvious rising of his own seven inches. "You write very well." He added as he reached the fanfic's ending with the biggest grin on his face.

"Thank you Papa. I can put a skirt on later if you'd like?"

He reached for his oxygen again while nodding enthusiastically.

You walk over to him, settling on his lap which only excites the man more.

"So, did you get the tattoo, my dear?" He asked, gently trailing his fingers up your thigh.

You lean in to whisper in his ear.

"You can find out tonight."

Young Nihil (he/him)

Reacting to Papa Nihil falling head over heels for reader

"What are you doing?" Nihil watched the ice melt in his cocktail and huffed. He should have been doing his work but fuck that, he'd rather be having fun with you...

Except you were in his office, on his sofa, with your clothes (well, the shirt was his) on and worst of all, working. What in the Dark Lord's name had gone wrong?

"Baaaabe..." he stood behind you to see what you were up to and you froze.

"Oh, you're writing!" he said happily, he was always so impressed by your work. He leaned in closer to get a better look. "About me?!"

It started off about right, his broken heart, his fear of rejection... wait, how did you know?

"You think I'm in love with you???" You went red but kept typing. "Babe..." He whined again but then trailed off and kept reading.

"Maybe I am... I like this part." He says with a large grin hiding his hammering heart. He was in love with you, he really did smile every time he saw you. How had you worked that out?!

He let out a sigh of relief, it all made sense now. He should have just told you himself.

"Why d'you stop before the good part?" His hands rested on your shoulder as he started to rub them. "The world should hear about my skills in bed. How I can make ya scream my name." He winked before he started kissing your neck.

Yet you were tense, still embarrassed as you stared at your writing. Your shoulders sagged.

He goes round so you can see him as he knelt down in front of you. "You don't have to write your hopes and dreams, just tell me about them. I mean, by all means, write, I love you imagination but this..." He pauses thinking of the right words. "I do love you and I won't mess it up this time." He takes both your hands and kisses them.

"I love you too..." You said with the most perfect soft little smile and his heart melted all over again.

"You keep writing if you want." He leaned in, his lips achingly close to yours. "Maybe the world should hear about your skill in bed. You are truly a dark temptress. Write about it. Or you can tell me now and I'll make your fantasies come true."

~

Papas I and Nihil written by Nyx.

Papa II written by Zenith/Jasper.

Papa III written by Death.

Papa IV written by Nosferatu.

[ladybunny44]

Good afternoon, Bunny. Here's my fifth Takumi request. Takes place when the Aldini twins were still in Tōtsuki. When the president of Takumi's fan club confesses to Takumi for the umpteenth time, Isami steps in on his brother's behalf and explains that Takumi has been engaged to Reader who's from a long line of confectioners ever since they were children. Takumi also confirms with what Isami is saying, adding that Reader is in Germany, studying to be a chocolatier.

🍫 Sweethearts Since the Start 🍝

Pairing : Takumi Aldini x Fem!Reader

Genre : ☁️

Word Count : ~1200

Summary : Takumi Aldini’s charm and talent often attract admirers, but none are more persistent than the president of his fan club. When she confesses to him yet again, Takumi’s twin, Isami, steps in to put an end to the misunderstandings once and for all. He reveals that Takumi has been engaged since childhood to you—a talented aspiring chocolatier currently studying in Germany. Takumi confirms the truth with quiet pride, leaving no doubt about where his heart lies.

TW/CW : None! Pure fluff and wholesome moments.

NOTIFICATIONS ꩜ ₊ ⊹! : Another request, another oneshot served! Enjoy! 📚

『••✎••』

The quiet buzz of Totsuki’s academy grounds was a welcome break after an intense cooking session. Takumi Aldini, as always, carried himself with calm confidence, though he had become adept at dodging a certain brand of attention—the persistent advances of his fan club president.

Today, however, the fan club leader had decided to try again, summoning all her courage to confront him outside the Aldini twins’ dormitory.

“Takumi-kun,” she began, her cheeks flushed as she clutched a small, wrapped box of handmade cookies. “I... I just wanted to tell you again how I feel. I’ve admired you for so long, and I made these for you!”

Takumi sighed inwardly, though his expression remained polite. Before he could respond, Isami, standing beside him, took one look at his brother’s exasperated expression and decided to step in.

“Listen,” Isami began, his tone kind but firm. “I think you’re missing something important here. Takumi’s not available.”

The fan club president blinked, confused. “Not available? What do you mean?”

Isami gave her a knowing smile, crossing his arms. “He’s been engaged since we were kids. His fiancée is from a long line of confectioners.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “Engaged?! Since childhood?!”

Takumi, sensing her disbelief, decided to add his own clarification. “It’s true,” he said, stepping forward. “She’s currently in Germany, studying to become a world-class chocolatier. She’s as passionate about her craft as I am about cooking, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.”

The girl’s grip on the box of cookies tightened as she tried to process what she was hearing. “Oh... I didn’t know.”

Takumi offered her a polite, almost apologetic smile. “I appreciate your feelings, but my heart has always been with her. I hope you understand.”

The fan club president gave a small, shaky nod, mumbling a goodbye before turning and walking away, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

As soon as she disappeared, Isami let out a loud laugh, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “You owe me for saving you from another awkward confession!”

Takumi sighed, shaking his head. “I could’ve handled it myself.”

“Oh, sure,” Isami teased. “By standing there like a statue until she got the hint? You’re welcome, by the way.”

Takumi couldn’t help but chuckle, finally relaxing. “I guess I do owe you. Just don’t expect me to clean up after you in the kitchen tonight.”

Isami grinned. “Fair trade. I’ll handle dinner prep if you promise to finally send that letter to your fiancée. She’s probably waiting to hear about all this.”

Takumi’s expression softened at the thought of you, and he nodded. “Yeah... I’ll write to her tonight.”

⋆⭒˚｡⋆༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

『••✎••』

At Germany

You adjusted the temperature on your chocolatier equipment, focused on perfecting your latest creation. A warm smile spread across your face as you thought about Takumi and the promise you’d made to him all those years ago.

Later that evening, after another long day of perfecting recipes and crafting chocolates, you returned to your small apartment. A neatly addressed envelope caught your eye, sitting atop the stack of mail on the kitchen counter. Your name was written in Takumi’s familiar handwriting, and your heart skipped a beat as you eagerly tore it open.

Inside was a handwritten letter, the kind he always sent, filled with updates, warm words, and his steady affection:

Cara mia,

I hope this letter finds you well. Totsuki keeps me busy as always, but I find myself thinking of you often, wondering how you’re doing with your studies in Germany. Today reminded me how lucky I am to have you. Someone confessed to me again, but Isami stepped in before I even had to explain. He told them everything—about our promise and how proud I am of you. It made me realize I don’t tell you enough just how proud I am. Your passion for your craft inspires me every day. I can’t wait for the day we’re standing in the same kitchen again, creating something sweet together. Until then, know that my heart belongs to you, now and always.

Yours,

Takumi

Tears pricked at your eyes as you read his words, and you clutched the letter close to your chest. Despite the distance, his love felt as warm and comforting as ever.

Smiling, you sat down at your desk, grabbing a pen and paper to write your reply, determined to remind him that the bond between you was as unbreakable as the sweetest chocolate you could ever create.

[hotchlove]

Trustworthy | Reader X Aaron Hotchner

hi!!! welcome to my first one-shot fanfic :) i had a blast writing this and hope u'll have even more fun reading it.

• i take requests! plsss dm me or leave them here if u have anything fun you'd like me to write. it can be angst, anytype of trope, smut, etc. • PLZ NOTE: i ONLY do oneshots. they differ from long to short depending on the character and story. i do not write series! • trustworthy - 3.1k+ words (i got carried away D:) • desc.: - quite a bit of angst - probable inaccurate description of readers job - happy ending ♡

• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~• • • • ~ ʚĭɞ ~ • • • •

it's been about five or six months since i've joined the behavioral analysis unit in the fbi. it's not like i've been counting the days...

who am i kidding? it's been exactly 191 days - whereas like 2 of those days my boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner, was actually nice to me.

those being my first two shifts.

on the third day, i had to make a spontaneous choice whilst on a case - one that, sure, was reckless and stupid and to quote hotch "unprofessional", but i managed to save many unpredictable lives with that choice.

we were on a case in miami, a state the team hasn't visited yet up until that day.

it was a 3h flight but it was a big case, so those hours flew on by as garcia briefed us. a 36 year old mother recently lost her teenage child to the hands of a drunk and supposedly has had hallucinations of her late child telling her to kill other kids, as revenge, i'm guessing - spooky, right?

i suggested manic schizophrenia - clear symptoms and obvious manic signs (the killings). that suggestion kind of cleared the foggy air on the jet. hotch gave me a nod of approval and i felt pretty damn proud of myself, it was only my third day after all.

on the third and last day, we finally cornered the woman on a traffic free highway. she had no where to run, agents were surrounded all around her - but she was holding a shotgun. the simple way out would've been having one of our federal snipers shoot her - but i couldn't let that happen. she killed the children of many, and letting her die a painless and simple death just didn't feel right.

i swatted the snipers away, the red laser that was planted on her forehead now gone. i throw my gun on the floor and pretend to surrender, hands up. "you remind me of my mother." i tell her, my arms up.

"Y/N." hotch warns me. his eyebrows furrow as he sees me now weaponless, basically staring the shotgun in it's eyes. i don't turn to him, i don't even acknowledge him. "she tried so hard to protect me." i say and walk tiny steps towards the woman, who now walks backwards to avoid me.

"stop! one more move and i-i'll shoot." no she won't. "she basically devoted her life to making sure i remain scratchless and pure." i chuckle.

"well, look how that turned out. i've got scars all over my body and a fun memory to come with all of them." i get even closer to her. "i know how you feel. i know how much you miss him." the woman cries and nods.

"i do. i really do. what did i do wrong?!" she yells and she points the shotgun at me. "i protected him like he was made out of glass, whilst other mothers - bad ones - let their kids wander everywhere alone."

hotch jumps a little seeing the woman point her hefty gun at me. "Y/N. move." he warns, his tone as stern as his expression.

i shake my head but don't look back. "other mothers - bad ones - still have their kids. and mine," her tears fall. "my baby boy got swept off his feet the only time - an exception - when he got to walk home alone from school." she cries.

"you're right. you did everything right," i reassure her and walk even closer, only 10 meters standing between me and the shotgun barrel.

"except you forgot one thing," i scoff. "teaching him to grow the fuck up."

bang.

the gun drops to the floor shortly after she shoots. morgan runs towards her, putting the metal cuffs on her wrist. he reads her rights and takes her to the sheriffs wagon that was parked just 2 minutes away.

the bullet didn't hit me - she had no idea how to take an accurate shot. god, she barely even held that shotgun - the weight of it almost holding her instead of the other way around.

"agent Y/L/N!" hotch runs towards me, i pick myself up. "we got he-" i get interrupted by him. "what is wrong with you?!" he yells.

"are you actually insane? i gave you a direct order to move. do you think of me as a fool?" he yells, his voice basically growling.

"excuse me? i just basically handed her to you." i say, offended he's yelling at me for doing my job. "and in the process you almost got your head blown off." he's even angrier as i talk back.

"head blown off?" i scoff. "hotch, the woman couldn't even hit a giant red target if she tried. it was a risk i had to ta-" he interrupts me again.

"no- no, agent. it wasn't. you put your life on the line to appear macho infront of everyone here." he puts his pistol in it's holder and crosses his arms, taking slow but sure steps towards me. "you took control of the case like you're a veteran - but actually, you're just a rookie that will probably quit in the span of 2 months because you'll realise you can't do this." he growls again. that one hurt. "badge and gun. you're flying back to quantico tonight. i'll put in a request for a two week suspension as soon as i am back." he holds out his hand, waiting for me to hand him my gun and badge. my eyebrows furrow. "what?" my mouth parts - speechless. "you can't be serious." i say, unsure if he is. he's silent for an entire minute.

so he is serious. i give in - i have to, he's my boss, so i hand him my badge and my gun. without saying anything, i walk away. leaving the crime scene, wasn't authorized to be there anymore anyway. and ever since that day, 188 days ago, aaron hotchner has got it in for me.

--

everyones sitting in the briefing room except me and garcia. i walk in 2 minutes late and excuse myself, "sorry, lost track of time." JJ nods and hotch says "you own a watch, don't you, agent?" his angry expression once again tainting his face.

god i'd pay a ridiculous amount of money to punch him just once. "yes, sir. will not happen again." i reassure.

no one calls hotch sir except me. it's kind of a unspoken rule - the others are close to him, which i am not. which i will probably never be, considering he still judges my mistake as a way to not trust me with anything.

garcia walks in just a minute after me "sorry, guys, kevin was blabbing and blabbing and i could not get him to shut up." she says and smiles awkwardly. "it's fine" hotch says. "everyone's allowed to be late - once." he raises an eyebrow and looks at me.

just one punch.

JJ briefs us on the case and tells us the local police department doesn't want us there - so she's going to have to convince them, which can take a day or two. i don't mind - i was honestly not in the mood for a flight today. everyone goes back to their every day business. files, reports, coffee and smalltalk in the kitchen - or for morgan and garcia, friendly flirting in her office.

me and spencer are both stirring a fresh cup of good ol' joe in the kitchen, talking - or well, he's talking - about some new physics crap. i just nod and pretend i understand.

the color of the beige wall behind him looks particularly interesting today. he keeps explaining and suddenly goes "BOOM!" his hands wide and i jump a little at the noise - spilling coffee all over my pink blouse. i look at him annoyed, "oh my god. i will murder you." he can't contain his laugh and bursts, "i was just demonstrating!" then goes running out of the kitchen before i can get to him. i sigh and look at my now brown blouse - this would be awfully devastating if i didn't have a go-bag. i place my almost empty mug in the kitchen sink and head towards my tabe - emily giving me a curious stare. "what happened to you?" she scoffs, "physics." i reply and take my go-bag, fishing out the only blouse i have - a white one.

emily just nods at my remark and goes back to her file as if it was the most normal thing ever. considering it's me - it probably was. i change in the ladies room and scrunch my coffee splattered blouse into a ball. standing infront of my mirror i realise how see-through this blouse is - especially with a pink bra that i wore just for the pink blouse. "you have got to be kidding me." my eyes widen. it's really not that bad, but it's noticeable. so noticeable HR might force us all into a "appropriate clothing" seminar tomorrow. i really don't have much of a choice so i walk out like that, hoping or praying no one notices. my hope is diminished when i meet garcia in the bullpen, holding her palm to her hand so she doesn't burst out laughing. "not a word, garcia." i look at her, my eyes shooting arrows. thank god for kevin, as he comes and pecks her lips, her surpressed laughter now gone like the wind. saved by the bell. or well, by a kiss. i sit down at my table and keep working on my reports - if i slouch down enough you really can't see it. i'm a great problem solver. a rough, deep voice calls my name from a distance, "agent Y/L/N, my office, please." hotch says standing in his doorway. my head drops in defeat - i really have no luck today. i grab the file i was working on and hold it on my chest, basically hugging it - it makes me look weird but not weirder than having my pink bra open for everyones eyes. i stand infront of his door, mumbling to myself about how i hate my life and knock twice. "come in" hotch says, his eyes glued to his computer. "sir. you wanted to see me?" he nods and tells me to sit down, still not looking up. and so i do, i sit down and keep hugging my file like it's gonna grow legs and walk away. he finally raises his head and looks at me. his eyebrows furrow at the sight of me holding for dear life on the file, "is that for me?" he asks. "huh?" the file. "oh, no- i just really like this file." i smile awkwardly and his mouth parts as if he wanted to say something more, but he doesn't. the embarassement i'm feeling right now could wash half the population off of the earth. "you're gonna have to be transfered to a different unit." he says and coughs, his throat sounding almost dry as he barely speaks that sentence. my eyes widen to 3x their size, "what? but i didn't do-" i take a breath. "i didn't do anything wrong? you're just gonna transfer me? just like this? wh- i don't get it." i rise from my seat not realising i let my file drop. he stares at my chest and then back to my eyes like 10 times till i realise. i heastily grab the file again, sit back down and cover my chest back up, "i spilled coffee on my other blouse." i explain. hotch sighs, "it wasn't my decision. strauss wants you gone." he coughs again. "i tried to convince her, agent." i scoff. sure he did. he was probably the first one to agree to the transfer. "you're joking, right?" i stand up once again, file still in my embrace. "i know you want me gone. i just know you were the first one to agree with strauss decision." i raise my voice slightly. "wanting me gone is one thing, so is transferring me - but lying about it? you're pathetic." hotch's eyebrows furrow. he doesn't seem angry, he just seems.. apologetic? "agent, listen to m-" this time i interrupt him, "i'm done listening," i drop the file on his table "here. it's yours now." i exit his office but notice in my peripheral vision that he stood up, as if wanting to follow me. all eyes are on me and how i storm to my desk, either that or my pink bra. but i don't care. i grab my bag and jacket, my files still scattered around my desk - but they're not mine anymore, so why should i care? "Agent Y/L/N." hotch calls and exits his office, i ignore him and just keep walking. "Y/N." he calls me by my first name now. i notice the elevator is about to leave so i ask the person in it to hold it, a hand splitting the doors as i manage to walk in just in time, aaron standing 10 feet away looking defeated. --

i took a cold shower as soon as i got home to calm my nerves. didn't help much but pretending it did helps. got myself dressed in a large shirt and some raggedy pyjama pants and poured myself a glass of red wine. then another one. i'm reliving today in my thoughts - why did i get fired from the bau? and why did aaron - sorry, hotch - lie? everyone knows he despises me and wanted me gone as soon as possible, and he did so, why lie then? i gulp down another sip of wine and hear a knock at my door. if this isn't the chinese food i ordered i'll be heavily disappointed. i open the door without checking who it is and see hotch standing infront of my apartment door, the arms of his dress shirt folded up to his elbows and his jacket held on his shoulder by his hand. he looks pissed. like always but worse. "what are you doing here? i don't need to transfer to another apartment, do i?" i mock him and cross my arms. "can i come in?" he asks with a stern expression. "why?" i look at him, awaiting an explanation. i'm not just gonna let my asshole boss into my apartment with no plausible reason. "we need to talk. please." his expression changes and my heart breaks a little. i don't know why. i hate him. he's rude and selfish and made me doubt my career. but i let him in anyways. i take a seat on a bar stool at my kitchen island, sipping on my red wine waiting for him to say what he has to say. "i didn't request your transfer. i didn't agree with strauss either." i scoff but he keeps talking before i can, "but i couldn't disagree either." i knew it. god this motherf- "you got offered a unit chief position." he says and my eyes widen. "it's gonna be great for your career. it's a better pay and everything." he walks towards me and chuckles, "you'd be in a higher department than me, and that within just 6 months of working at the fbi." my eyebrows furrow, he better not be playing with me because i'm believing every second of it. "i didn't want you gone. you're an amazing agent and we," he gulps. "i was so lucky to have you. but i can't deny you a promotion out of my own selfish reasons." my mouth parts as i inhale a small breath. this is.. unexpected, to say the least. "hotch, i'm so sorry for going off at you like that." he shakes his head, "don't apologise. i know how i've been treating you and it was unfair. and totally unprofessional." he takes small steps towards me, stopping just infront of me. he swipes a strand of hair behind my ear and my body freezes - his warm fingers slightly touching my ear, his gaze so soft. i've never seen him so vulnerable before. "i care for you. and even though i handled it poorly, i thought i'd lose you on just your third day." he exhales and his arms now cross. "i couldn't let that happen. so ever since, i thought going hard on you would cause you to be more careful, less reckless." his head drops and his eyebrows furrow. "i know it was selfish, and god did i hate seeing you on the verge of tears everytime i had to discipline you." he looks me straight in the eyes, they no longer shoot fire arrows, they shoot soft looks and quick smiles as his mouth curls a little. "i'm sorry, Y/N. and i hope you'll find it in your heart to forgive me." he closes his eyes and leans forward, placing a kiss on my cheek. i stand there, still frozen. i don't manage to say anything but i notice him moving. leaving. he grabs his jacket and twists the doorknob on my door without a word. "wait -" i manage to blurt out and he turns around, surprised. i walk towards him in a very quick manner, basically sprinting. if me two hours ago was put in this position, i'd finally take swing at the punch i've been begging for. but i don't. instead, i cup his cheeks in my hands and kiss him.

he doesn't react at first, the kiss starting slow, but then he grips at my waist tightly and pulls me towards him. he grins into the kiss and it feels like he just wants to eat me whole. he's greedy, unwilling to share, like he's wanted this for a while. i break the kiss so i can take a couple of breaths, he doesn't let go of my waist and looks me in the eyes. "i'm really sorry" his thumb carressing my left cheek. "you've said that."

"not enough." his lips land on mine again, this kiss shorter, more like a peck. his strong arms embrace me and my head lays on his broad chest. "isn't this unprofessional? a boss and his subordinate?" i ask as he hugs me tightly, "you're not my subordinate anymore, though, uniet chef Y/L/N." i chuckle into his embrace and pull myself away from him, looking into his eyes. "what if i don't take the job?" his eyebrows furrow and he shakes his head, "you have to, it's an amazing offer." i shrug and look up at the ceiling. "maybe. i kinda like my current work place though, i'd be willing to go back. unless of course my snarky boss won't take me." i grin playfully and he kisses my forehead. "monday 8:00 o'clock. don't be late this time."

[angelmatthew]

₊˚.༄ gingerbread - seok matthew

yes i'm aware we're in march but i finally finished writing this so i'm posting it anyways !! i'm so delusional for this man it's becoming an actual problem i fear.

my inbox is empty so feel free to request !

↬matthew x gn!reader (reader is kind of implied to have long hair) ↬1688words ↬(self indulgent) fluff, oneshot, gyuvin cameo ↬tw: none just not proofread lol

christmas means the world to matthew. he's the force behind turning your shared apartment into a festive retreat, decorating every space and making sure you explore every christmas market around. for him, the holiday excitement is almost on par with his birthday. the fact that you both get to experience this special season together in your newly shared home adds an extra layer of significance to him. his excitement is infectious, and you find yourself enjoying the holiday season more than you did already.

as he stood in the store facing rows of gingerbread house kits, matthew couldn't make a decision without consulting you. he grabbed his phone and facetimed you, holding up different options for you to choose. as your boyfriend deliberated with you, gyuvin's voice joined the debate.

"oh my god please get the huge one!" he pleaded through the screen. you assumed he was referring to the sizable box at the bottom of the shelf, resembling more of a gingerbread mansion than a mere house. matthew's face lit up with his trademark open-bracket smile, both edges of his lips curving upward in response to gyuvin's suggestion.

"gyuvin, are you going to help out?" you teased, prompting laughter from both ends as matthew continued to examine the oversized gingerbread mansion kit - this was very serious to him.

"am i invited to your date?"

matthew playfully rolls his eyes at his antics, and so do you.

"nope, and we're sticking with the smaller kit, right, matt?" you playfully threatened your boyfriend, although there was a hint of truth into the teasing tone.

he reluctantly gave in, much to his best friend's disappointment. a few minutes later, your boyfriend is back home, arms filled with grocery bags and a huge shopping bag. you can easily figure out what happened after you hung up—matthew greeted you with a peck, his expression carrying a hint of guilt.

"did you go for the mansion?!" you exclaim, disbelief written all over your face as you gaze at your boyfriend. he responds with a sheepish smile, getting the box out of the bag, he starts unpacking the kit.

"yeah, i got a little carried away at the store, and gyuvin ended up talking me into picking this one," he confessed, his eyes locked onto the box, a touch of uncertainty on his face as he gauged your reaction to see if you were upset. of course, you weren't. your concern was more about whether it would live up to matthew's expectations.

"well, it does look cute!" you reassure, pointing at the small plastic christmas trees that accompany the kit. "i just hope we've got enough frosting to make it look as nice as it does on the box," you add, casting a thoughtful eye over the ingredients and decorations you neatly laid out on the table.

"i'll grab our aprons," matthew declares with determination, clapping his hands in excitement. he's referring to the matching sanrio aprons you purchased earlier that month – he opted for the cinamoroll one, and you for my melody.

as he heads towards the kitchen to fetch the aprons, you put on your shared christmas playlist and continue unpacking the kit. matthew returns, aprons in hand. without a word, he steps closer and lends a hand as you put yours on, and you do the same for him.

"can't get over how adorable these aprons are," matthew gushes as he admires you.

it's a shared quirk between you two – an irresistible impulse to snag anything cute, regardless of practicality, and especially if it means matching with each other. while your apartment is pretty organized and neat, it’s also full of little trinkets.

“we definitely need the pompompurin one too,"

matthew nods in agreement, all the while studying the instructions on the back of the box while you open the numbered bags with the different parts of the house.

with christmas songs softly playing in the background, you dive into the task at hand, the concentration evident on both your faces. as you work, matthew quietly sings along, his voice weaving a comforting melody that never fails to bring a smile to your face.

the ambient lighting from the elaborately adorned tree and flickering fireplace casts a warm glow, enveloping the room in a relaxing ambiance. when you get to the challenging stage of assembling the gingerbread structure with frosting, you start getting worried.

"i have no idea how to start building even after reading the instructions," he confesses, holding what's supposed to be the front of the building, uncertainty etched across his features.

you survey the gingerbread pieces and the frosting, treating it like a puzzle yet to be solved. with a reassuring smile, you join your boyfriend, taking a moment to strategize the best approach.

"well, let's start with the base. we can add on one corner and then assemble the sides step by step," you suggest, matthew is careful as he sets the base while you prep the frosting.

you're in the midst of carefully slathering frosting on the sides, taking your sweet time, but your hair keeps getting in the way. matthew catches on and, without missing a beat, grabs a hair tie from his wrist – he always has one handy for you. you feel a gentle touch as he gathers your hair and skillfully ties it back. a small, grateful smile creeps onto your face.

“thanks, angel," you express, grateful for the simplicity of his gesture. he grins at the pet name. he loves how pet names flow so easily out of your lips.

with your hair tied back, you dive back into the frosting mission. once you finish, matthew steps in, holding the panels in place while you apply frosting to bind them together.

"you're so good at this," matthew confesses, admiring your work as you skillfully spread the frosting without a smudge in sight.

"you sound surprised," you retort, shooting a glance at your boyfriend. it’s just too easy to tease him.

“maybe just a little impressed," he chuckles, nudging you as the gingerbread structure starts taking shape. “i was counting on you to make this look good, to be honest,” he adds, you roll your eyes, faking annoyance.

"well yeah, i figured i was gonna do all the hard work by myself,"

matthew does that little head tilt he does whenever you tease him, his lips forming a mix between a pout and a smile, earning another laugh from you.

"hey, i'm helping!"

you give him an intentionally reticent nod to tease him further. he acts offended, and before you can even realize what's happening, he takes the icing bag you put aside and smears a little bit of icing on your nose. you blink in surprise as the cool touch of icing graces your nose. matthew looks immensely pleased with his impromptu move, little giggles bubbling in his throat - you don’t think you could ever get tired of that airy laugh of his.

“oh, i see how it is… since you’re so skilled with the icing, i’ll let you take care of the rest, sound good?” you pretend to get up to leave. you just love entertaining the banter, especially when your boyfriend’s response is that adorable pout of his and puffed-up cheeks. the temptation to kiss him is strong, but the joy of teasing him prevails.

“you’re so mean?!” he responds in the most dramatic tone ever, holding your arm to stop you.

“i’ll call a truce if i get to decorate your face too,” you suggest innocently, a mischievous glint in your eyes. the blonde raises an eyebrow in curiosity as you scoop a dollop of whipped cream with your index finger. leaning in, your faces just inches apart, you delicately smear the cream on his nose and cheeks, your touch slow and deliberate, as if crafting a delicate masterpiece. you draw two little hearts on his cheeks, you smile to yourself while matthew tries to supress his quiet giggles to keep up the sulking act. he can't believe that such a gentle and simple touch can still turn him into putty in your hands - literally giggling and kicking his feet internally.

"oops," you feign innocence as your fingers graze the corner of his lips, spreading a bit of cream there too. "i guess i'll have to clean this up," you whisper before closing the distance between you two.

without much time for matthew to process the boldness of your move, you swiftly taste the sweetness on his soft lips. his muscular arm instinctively wraps around your waist, pulling you closer in an instant while your lips lead a perfect dance. The room is filled with the delightful sounds of giggles and the subtle rustle of clothes as your arms find their place, encircling his neck.

his fingers find the hem of your top and play with it – one of his many endearing habits. whether cuddling or engaged in more intimate moments, he can’t resist fidgeting with your clothes, hair, or tracing patterns on your skin with his fingertips.

matthew knew too exactly how to turn you into putty in his hands.

the care and gentleness with which he holds you is intoxicating and mirrors his approach to everything – from making you pancakes adorned with a smiley face of cream and berries, to the way he makes sure to always leave a little note on your mirror each morning or how he indulges in all of your interests and gets heavily invested in them.

you can feel him smiling against your lips before he breaks the kiss, his eyes filled with fondness as he gazes at your face. a light blush graces his cheeks and the tips of his ears, yet he wears a smug smile on his lips. how does he manage to be so adorable and flirty at the same time? it's a question that lingers in your mind, even after all this time dating. even though you show your affection to him every single day through small gestures, you're somehow still convinced he has no clue about the profound effect he has on you, how he has you swooning over the simplest things he does.

suddenly, all the boldness from earlier evaporates, and your cheeks heat up and you could swear that the warmth from the crackling fire is engulfing you. without thinking, you bury your face in the blonde's neck, seeking refuge in the warmth of his embrace.

“if you wanted to kiss me so bad you could’ve just said that from the get-go,” he teased, his voice light and playful. he can’t resist squeezing you gently in his arms at the sight of your cheek pressed on his shoulder.

you peek out from your cozy hiding spot, shooting him a mock glare. “don’t play with me right now, i’ll really leave you alone to build the whole thing,” you try to sound indignant but fail miserably, your heart eyes and sheepish smile clearly betraying you.

he chuckles while his fingers trace lazy circles on your back before planting a kiss on your temple. “you wouldn’t, you love me too much,” you respond by slightly hitting his chest.

"okay, maybe just a tiny bit too much," you admit with a playful eye-roll, “now get to work before i change my mind”

[thrawns-babygirl]

Hello there lovely, is there any chance that you could write something - anything really idc if it's a drabble, hc or oneshot- involving tatted Crosshair and his send nudes tattoo?

No pressure of course. love your stuff and keep it up^^

have a nice day <3

This was only meant to be a drabble but I got carried away.

And yes I know this fic starts off almost identically to one of my other fics (I think it was one of the follower celebration ones) but for this specific fic I needed to reuse an old trope dont @ me please I've had writers block （；¬＿¬)

This is also another one of my classic medic!reader fics because I wanted it to be gender neutral and doc is the easiest gender neutral nickname I can come up with.

I am not a creative person lmao.

anywho, this is based off of @cloned-eyes absolutely sinful art, which is honestly some of my favorite Crosshair art of all time.

Rating: E (18+) Warnings: Sexting (I think that's it lmao) Words: 2200+

Been a while since ive written anything this long so i hope my writing is still up to snuff

Masterlist

Where could he be? Where on this maker forsaken facility could he possibly be? You storm through the halls of Kamino looking for Wrecker, the errant clone needing to come and see you for updates to his immunisations before he or the rest of clone force 99 are allowed back out into the field.

It’s not surprising that he’s avoiding you, out of all of them, Wrecker is by far the worst with needles. The man can’t stand them, avoids you like the plague when he knows that it’s time to keep his vaccinations up to date and for what its worth you can’t really blame him. No one enjoys needles.

You huff and place your hands on your hips as you think about where the lovable giant could possibly be. You’ve already checked the mess, the armoury, the Marauder and the training centres with zero sign of him. When you got to the marauder Tech just gave you that look that says, “I understand you need to find him but I’m not going to rat him out” and while you often applaud clones for their loyalty to one another, when it stops you from doing your job it makes you want to rip your own hair out in frustration.

You make your way over towards their barracks, hoping and praying to whatever deities that will listen that you’ll find him and be able to get on with the rest of your job. You take a deep breath, standing out the front of their doors, before keying in your medical override and stepping inside.

You don’t find wrecker, and you wish you had knocked.

Standing in front of you is Crosshair, in just a towel, dark lines of ink on full display over his tanned body. You’ve never actually seen him without his shirt on before, never needed to. The sniper usually manages to stay out of trouble and doesn’t need any assistance when the boys return to Kamino so you had no idea he was covered in tattoos.  

You run your eyes over his chest, taking in all the impressive art that litters his toned form. The silhouette of his beloved 773 Firepuncher that stretches along his chest, the artfully done letters of aurebesh that stretch above his stomach, the other smaller words and phrases that extend down his hips, tantalizingly low, slightly obscured by the fabric of the towel that’s gripped in his left hand.

You run your eyes up his arm towards his face, knowing that he’s going to be wearing that sickeningly infuriating smirk of his and wanting to avoid the cliché “Like what you see?” you know he’s going to drawl at you like you’re in some terrible holodrama.

As you brace yourself to face him, your eyes catch on a single phrase tattooed on his left arm, slightly more patchy and faded than his other ink as if it were the result of a drunken night out in some shady tattoo parlour in the Uscru District of Coruscant. Two simple words that have a profound effect on your physiology causing even more heat to rush to your face, deepening the blush that you know is already far too pronounced on your cheeks and ears.

“Send Nudes”

You finally have the courage to snap your eyes up to his and just as you expected you’re greeted by his frustratingly handsome smirk, his eyes boring into yours, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, as if this is going to be the final nail in the coffin for your poorly hidden mutual attraction to one another that’s been simmering the last few cycles that’s threatening to reach boiling point as you maintain eye contact.

You lamely open and close your mouth trying to find something to say to the barely covered man in front of you before he decides to end your suffering, breaking the silence with the just as cliché “See something you like doc?” he raises an eyebrow at you before walking over towards his bunk, reaching into a pouch on his discarded armour and producing a toothpick, slipping it between his lips as he looks you up and down.

“I um-” you finally look away from him, suddenly finding the old training posters above his bed intensely interesting trying to figure out what to say to him as if you weren’t just ogling his naked chest and arms for an unprofessionally long amount of time.

You clear your throat “I was just looking for Wrecker… he needs his shots” your eyes dart around the room, avoiding his smug, self-satisfied face for as long as humanly possible.

You cringe at how your voice falters, yours and Crosshair’s interactions are always a battle of wits and snark, constantly trying to one up each other as the rest of the batch endeavour to ignore your vague attempts at flirting with one another. Both of you trying your best to goad the other into making the first move, dancing around the invisible line you’ve both drawn in the sand but never crossed.

From the corner of your eye, you see him walk towards you, you see his arm adjusting the towel around his hips and your eyes are drawn to that stupid tattoo on his arm again, the one that makes you want to throw professionalism out the window and jump his bones regardless of any regulations or rules that would get in the way and muddy the waters.

“Wrecker’s not here” his voice has dropped an octave, as if getting you alone in his room has made him realise that there is nothing physical stopping the two of you from muddying the waters of your relationship and taking that final step. You swallow the saliva that’s started pooling in your mouth, attempting to remind yourself that you’re on duty, you’re in the barracks, any one of the rest of his squad could walk through those doors at any moment an interrupt whatever lewd and improper things you both want to do to one another.

While you were wrestling with your own thoughts and feelings you miss how close he’s managed to get to you, his silent footsteps bringing him directly in front of you and you stare up at him. Has he always been this tall? You lock eyes with him, neither of you saying anything as you just stare at one another, each of you silently willing the other to close the distance between the two of you and take the leap.

He begins moving his face closer to yours, his warm breath brushing over your face, it smells minty you vaguely register as you move your face closer to his, closing your eyes and the distance between the two of you when suddenly you hear loud, boisterous laughter approaching from the other side of the door.

You curse under your breath. Despite this being the whole reason you’re in the barracks to begin with, you would give anything for a few more moments alone with Crosshair. Both of you pull away from one another, Crosshair grabbing a spare change of blacks and walking back into the refresher before the door to the barracks opens and you see the wayward clone himself stare at you with wide eyes. He knows he’s got nowhere to run now as you fix him with a glare that one would assume is because of the amount of time and effort you put into finding him and not because of the fact he just interrupted… whatever was about to happen between you and Crosshair.

You walk out of the barracks with Wrecker in tow, attempting to push whatever it was that was happening with Crosshair to the back of your mind, at least for now.

After another few hours on duty, you finally return to your quarters, sore exhausted and replaying the interaction you had with Crosshair over and over again in your mind. No matter how you try to distract yourself, whenever you close your eyes, you see the dark lines of ink that cover his sculpted body. Does he have more tattoos? Do the go lower? You mind is reeling, and you can’t focus on anything else, you can’t even sleep all you can think about is stupid Crosshair with his stupid tattoos and that stupid send nudes tattoo he has on his stupid arm.

You sigh, picking up your datapad in a vague attempt at tricking your brain into doing something productive when you get an idea. Arguably a terrible and stupid idea that could have a negative affect on your career but… an idea, nonetheless. Sighing and shaking your head you throw your datapad down onto your bed as you stand up to take a shower.

No… this is a terrible idea.

You undress and stare at yourself in the mirror. Maybe… its not a terrible idea? Your mind keeps going back to his tattoos and you decide to throw caution to the wind. Walking back into your bedroom you snatch up your datapad and open an encoded chat with Crosshair’s personal frequency double and triple checking the recipient to make sure what you’re about to do doesn’t end up in the wrong hands before steeling your nerves and standing in front of the mirror. The lighting isn’t the most flattering but you don’t let yourself dwell on that for too long before you strike what you hope is an appealing pose and taking a series of pictures, attempting to highlight your assets.

You flick through the pictures selecting the ones you think are the most flattering and before you have a chance to second guess yourself you send them through to Crosshair with the caption “As instructed”.

You wait for a moment, encrypted chats don’t have notifications for when the recipient has seen the messages so you wait with baited breath for a response. When one doesn’t come immediately you throw your datapad down onto your bed and run your hand through your hair, deciding that maybe he’s just not looking at his datapad right now you finally take your shower, attempting to wash away your nerves and embarrassment, pushing your fear of rejection out of your head as you let the warm spray wash over you.

When you exit the shower and towel yourself off you look at your datapad and see a reply from Crosshair. Your breath catches in your throat as you move to open the message and see that it comes with an attachment.

Holding your breath, you open the attachment only to be greeted by a picture of Crosshair, standing in the refresher in his barracks, wearing only a pair of loose fitting black pants that are pulled down to his thighs revealing what can only be described as the nicest cock you have ever seen. You’ve never thought that cocks were attractive before, but somehow he’s managed to change your mind. It’s long and thick and the way his slender fingers wrap around his girth makes your mouth water.

After spending far too much time searing the sight of it into your memory you read the text that he sent along with the photo just one simple word; “More”.

You dive into bed, datapad in one hand, legs spread however before you get a chance to take and pictures you receive another message from Crosshair, this time there is no text, only a video. You open it and press play.

You watch in pure delight as the recording of Crosshair’s hand moves over his hard, weeping length, his fingers tightening as he gets to the tip creating more pressure around the head. Small sighs and choked breaths can be heard from the audio as his hand works his cock and just as the video ends you swear you hear a whisper of your name.

You scramble to return the favour, attempting to capture the best possible angle as you manoeuvre one hand down between your legs to begin working yourself over. You have the luxury of not needing to share your living space with anyone, so you put on a bit of a show, moaning and whimpering and gasping his name as you touch yourself and push yourself over the edge with a final long moan of his name. Your chest rising and falling as you hit send before you can change your mind or second guess yourself.

Not long after that you receive the final video of the night, your mouth waters and you can feel heat rushing down south again as you watch Crosshair vigorously stroking his cock, muffled gasps and groans coming from his end as he works himself, the head of his cock is so red it’s almost purple and you can see beads of precum leaking out of the tip and running onto his hands as he brings himself closer and closer to the edge. You watch as he bites his lip, face contorting in pleasure as the lines of ink on his skin move with the rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to stay quiet.

He screws his eyes shut and bites his lip so hard you think you see him break the skin, as he stifles a moan of your name, spilling ropes of cum over himself, his hand and his chest, panting before the video ends.

You get one other message from him on the encrypted channel.

>Might need to see you in medbay tomorrow for a busted lip

@where-is-my-mind-tho@antishadow2021 @healingskywalker @crosshairlovebot@ilovestarwarsmen725@vincentferard

[yeageristm]

just read your rant, and im on the same page as you, (I reread all of it today), the first time I read it, I gotta admit that I got a bit confused, but then I understood everything that happened lmao :') I think the most bittersweet part is that we don't know what really happened to Sinbad.

So in the angst for Sinbad, how about a oneshot or HC with an fem!s/o that used to be a slave, and he woke up during one of her night terrors and her not recognizing him, with him never seeing her like this, if you're comfortable with that of course, - :] anon

Sorry for leaving you waiting for so long! I've been working my ass off on projects at work, but im here now!!! And yes omg I got so mad that we never even found out abt Sinbad's fate, WHERE DID MY LOVE GOOOOOO!

.

I don't mind doing your head canon at all!I always enjoy writing things for Sinbad! I hope you enjoy.

"It's Me."

Sinbad had always been a light sleeper. It came with years of war, countless nights spent on battlefields, and an ingrained instinct that told him to always be ready. But nothing—not the bloodshed, not the endless battles—prepared him for the sound that woke him that night.

A sharp, gasping breath. A choked sob.

His eyes blinked open instantly, adjusting to the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the silk curtains. His arms instinctively reached out for you, but you weren’t there.

You were sitting up at the edge of the bed, back tense, body trembling. Your hands gripped the sheets so tightly that your knuckles turned white. He could hear your breathing—ragged, desperate, like someone gasping for air after being pulled from the depths of the ocean.

Sinbad pushed himself up slowly, his voice low, soothing. "Hey… what’s wrong?"

You flinched. Flinched. As if his voice alone had struck you.

His heart squeezed in his chest, a cold sense of unease settling in his gut. He reached for you, his fingers brushing against your arm, but you recoiled violently, scrambling away as if he had burned you.

Sinbad stilled. You turned to look at him then, and the sight made something deep inside him break.

Your eyes—usually so full of warmth, of mischief, of life—were filled with raw terror. They darted around the room, wide and unfocused, as if searching for something. As if searching for a way out.

"Where…?" Your voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and unsteady. "Where am I?"

He furrowed his brows, his concern growing. "You're in our room," he said gently, watching you carefully. "You're safe."

But the fear in your eyes didn’t fade.

Sinbad felt the shift before he fully understood it. The way you shrank away from him, how your body coiled like a cornered animal. The way your lips trembled as you whispered, "Who are you?"

His stomach dropped.

The words didn’t register at first. They didn’t make sense. You had whispered his name countless times, in love, in laughter, in anger, in pleasure. But this?

You didn’t recognize him.

It clicked then—this wasn’t you. Not you as he knew you.

This was the girl you used to be. The one before you had freedom, before you had a name that was yours, before you had him. This was the girl who had been stripped of everything, left to survive in chains.

Sinbad had heard hints of your past before. He had seen glimpses of the wounds you carried, the way your body tensed at certain touches, how your breath hitched when someone walked behind you too quietly. But never, never had he seen you like this.

He forced himself to stay calm, his hands raised slightly to show he meant no harm. "Sweetheart, it's me. It's Sinbad." His voice was softer now, laced with something rare—uncertainty. "You're not there anymore. You’re safe."

But you weren’t hearing him. Your chest rose and fell in shallow gasps, panic still thick in your eyes. Sinbad wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms, to whisper against your skin that it was okay, that he was here, that nothing could hurt you. But touching you now? He knew it would only make things worse.

So instead, he stayed where he was. He waited. He let his voice be the thing that reached you, soft and patient. "You're here. With me. No one is coming for you. No one can touch you."

Your fingers curled into the sheets, your body trembling. He could see the war happening inside you, the lingering ghosts of your past keeping their claws deep in your mind. And then—finally—you blinked.

Your breathing slowed, your eyes clearing slightly as they flickered back to his face. "Sinbad...?"

Relief hit him so fast and so hard that he almost let out a shaky breath. But he didn’t move, not yet. "Yeah, it's me."

You looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to piece everything together. Then, as if the weight of it all finally crashed down on you, your shoulders shook, and you let out a quiet, broken sob.

That was all it took.

Sinbad moved instantly, catching you as you collapsed into him, arms wrapping around you tightly. Your hands fisted into his shirt, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

"I’m here," he murmured against your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I’ve got you."

You buried your face in his chest, trying to steady your breathing, to ground yourself in the feeling of his warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his heart. He ran his fingers through your hair, rubbing soothing circles into your back, whispering quiet reassurances against your skin.

It took a while for your shaking to stop, for your heartbeat to steady. And even after you calmed, Sinbad didn’t let go. He wouldn’t.

Not until you fell asleep in his arms. Not until he was sure you knew that you were safe.

Not until you knew that as long as he was here, your past would never take you away from him again.

I'm not too proud of this but hopefully I met your expectations anon!

[hailthegodsong]

Hello hello I’m here with a request!!

Since you don’t have any Sam stuff out yet I thought it would be a cute idea if Rosie (or even the new baby maybe that would be more believable) got lost but the reader who is like independently at the park finds her and calls the number on the collar and oh SHIT this dog belongs to cute guy from that band what are the odds!! Maybe we should go get drinks about it!!

pls and thx love ur work

Update: Here is the link to 'Maybe'

Oooookay this was asked of me in October 2024 and I HATE that I left you hanging for so long anon, I truly am so so sorry. I loved the meet cute aspect of your ask, however I think I’m unable of writing stories unless they involve some kind of angst (i’m sorry i know there’s something wrong with me) so I took that situation and absolutely ran with it, I really hope you don’t mind.

I am now 11k words into this story that includes pretty difficult themes including: history of domestic violence (this is the main theme of the story), trauma, panic attacks and anxiety, and other fear related themes.

Summary: After years of struggling to move past the damage left by abusive relationships, you’ve built a life focused on safety— for yourself and your rescue dog, Bella, who carries her own scars. But when Sam's quiet kindness enters your life, the walls you’ve built start to crack. Even when fears and trauma threaten to push him away, Sam’s patience and understanding help you begin to heal. Maybe, just maybe, letting someone in doesn’t have to be a risk after all.

Again, I’m super sorry that I changed and intensified your request, but I hope you still like it, as this one took me a long long time to write

Just putting this out there to let everyone know that this oneshot should be out by Sunday afternoon latest and is my first ever, LONG overdue, Sam fic.

As always, lmk if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this one!! Can’t wait to finally have it out to you. I’m sorry again for taking so very long

(To those of you who also submitted requests that I have yet to post, I have plans and drafts for your requests I promise!! I also am super sorry for taking so long, but I promise they’re coming xx)

[kwanisms]

I was tagged by @junkissed and @hannieween and @shadowkoo to do this and it looks like a lot of fun so I decided to give it a go! this game was started by the amazing june so be sure to check out her post as well!

My blog turned 6 years old this past June. Two of those years I was absent but I've been back consistently for 2 years again. This year has been a wild ride. I've seen more activity this year, made a bunch of new friends, joined new networks, and even added some new groups and soloists to my repertoire. I feel comfortable in my writing but am always looking to improve.

Thank you to everyone who has followed, liked, reblogged, commented, and sent messages this year! Your feedback means more to me than you could possibly know. I can't wait to see what 2025 has in store for not only me but for all of us!

「 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 」

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»» Emotional Support | chapter 3 of Under Your Skin »» posted jan 18 »» author's notes: this is a series I haven't touched in almost a year. I'd really like to come back to it but the inspiration just isn't there. Hopefully I can come back soon since this series is still new and in the early chapters.

「 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 」

»» Thrill of the Chase | Kinktober Day 29 »» date posted oct 29 »» author's notes: originally I wasn't sure if I wanted to make the MC in this a rabbit hybrid but I'm glad that I ended up going with the chipmunk hybrid instead. This fic was meant to be equal parts fun and slightly thrilling as he stalks her through their house. I mean, who wouldn't want Choi San hunting them through their shared house?

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「 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜 」

»» Of Hellfire & Saints 01 • 02 | Library of Illusion // 50.2k »» posted sept 11 & 13 »» author's notes: the fic so long, I had to split it into two posts. This one just got away from me but there was a lot I wanted to happen in this part and it never occurred to me to split Hongjoong's origin story into three parts. I never expected it to get to fifty thousand words either. This Library of Illusion universe that I've created is among my favorite universes on my blog. I love all of the lore and background of each character. Hopefully in the new year, I can finish Seonghwa's and continue on to the sequel series.

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「 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜 」

»» Sweet Temptations | CoDNet Spring Event '24 // 1.5k notes »» posted jun 4 »» author's notes: originally one of three planned entries for the Language of Flowers event for CoDNet, I ended up only being able to do this one and I'm very proud of it. I didn't expect it to get as much attention as it did because let's face it, longer fics don't get a lot of attention on this site, but we've long since established that I am almost incapable of writing less than 10k. Almost. I love the characters in this, I love the open and honest communication between the main characters and I love the inclusion of visual details like the sticky note and the letter. I plan to use those more often because they're just so fun!

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「 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 」

»» Aphrodisia | alien!Minho // 5.4k »» posted oct 25 »» author's notes: what originally started as just a singular oneshot for my 2023 Kinktober Creature Feature has since grown into something else. This is a sequel to that piece but not a direct sequel. This universe has also grown into something I never expected. The world building I put into the first oneshot has carried over and will continue to carry over in the series when they come out. I love Minho's species, I love the details, and I love everything about Minho and MC's relationship.

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「 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 」

🥇 Hongjoong | 83.7k 🥈 Seonghwa | 28.4k 🥉 Jihoon | 21.5k »» author's notes: if you had asked me at the beginning of the year who I would write the most words for, none of these faces would have come to mind. I had been struggling to write for Hongjoong and Seonghwa for the first half of the year and then came August and with it, the Ateez tour in my neck of the woods which I got free tickets for. (Thank you again Nox). That concert send my brain into overdrive and as soon as I was home and recovered from covid, I got to work. I wrote all of The Witch & the Lamb as well as Of Hellfire & Saints by listening to Halazia and This World on repeat. It made my brain go brrrrrr.

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「 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 」

»» total no. of fics: 31 »» total wc of 2024: 230.8k »» author's notes: I've never kept track of my fic stats for one year so I have nothing to compare this to but I will be keeping track from now on because this is interesting to see written down. I've averaged 630 words per day so I'd like to see how next year goes and see if I increase or decrease.

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「 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 」

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In 2025, I'd like to get back into a couple of my series that are on hiatus as well as improve my overall story telling. I'd also like to be more consistent in my upload schedule and actually stick to a schedule for once. I'd also love to interact with my readers again. While engagement is up on my works, interaction is not and I'd like to see that change in the coming year. I also plan to celebrate my latest milestone at the beginning of 2025.

tagging these few folks and anyone else who wants to participate but hasn't been tagged and sees this. you can say I tagged you

@yoonguurt @nebulousbrainsoup @yuncheoligans @ddeonghwa-s

@ja3hwa @anyamaris @jinhyun @moonjxsung @ncteez @binniebeams

[tennessoui]

kit's fics year in review (2023)

it turns out i wrote a LOT this year (last year now, i guess) according to my ao3 stats, and i saw one of those recap games for another fandom floating around my dash so im absolutely gonna pilfer some of those questions for my own little review + add a few!!

how many fics did you write in 2023? it was definitely the year of the silly short fic for me -- i published a total of 6 new oneshots on ao3 along with 5 fics only on my kofi! i also added at least one chapter to 9 other fics that were already posted. and i started and completed 1 long stand alone fic this year (if you love me let it remain unnamed, clocking in at 37k)

what are you most proud of fic-writing wise in 2023? i finished foolproof, foolhardy! it took more than a year to write, from first published to last updated, but i think the lion's share of the work happened during 2023; it's sort of rare for a fic of mine to get that long (72k), so it was fun to write through all the developments. truly a cracky premise that grew legs and ran away from me, but i'm really proud of how it turned out. the last 4 chapters contain some of my best writing in my opinion and the whole story is a love letter to padawan obi-wan, who will always be my beloved lol

what is the fic you had the most fun writing? this is a tough question because i'm torn between two fics; sun, sun, sun here it comes is probably my favorite oneshot that i've ever written. it sorta incorporates everything that makes a silly little au in my mind, from miscommunication to banter to bonus babies. but then there's i pray the same, but my gods have changed, aka the democratic fic- now that's such a fun fic to write, and i'm going to get more into it this year again. it's the one where tumblr votes on what should happen next, which i absolutely enjoy - especially when people send me propaganda about which option should win....thought the amount of ties that have happened is mind-boggling lol

what is a fic you didn't expect to write? hahaha well this is easily 'a more perfect union' which has been sooo fun to write so far but also definitely has had a very short gestation period from nascent tumblr au post to 25k on ao3 lol and still one more chapter to go!!!

what fic surprised you when you were writing it? oh hands down this is 'hand me down dreams got me high in the rafters', aka the pool boy au from tumblr. the adaptation of it from tumblr au to a fic on ao3 has a crazy tone shift where the obi-wan in that fic is much, much darker than the one in the tumblr au - i really ended up leaning into the unequal power dynamics of a boss/employee relationship and exploring how unhealthy it could be while keeping it consensual -- but only because anakin would allow obi-wan to do whatever he wanted to him

what's a fic you wanted to write but didn't? my poor neglected hunger games au!! i really want to get the first chapter of that posted because i am so excited about this fic and writing it as a new big, long project -- i'm excited about the dark anakin, the differently dark obi-wan, the hunger games set in the gffa, etc etc etc

what is something you learned this year that you'll take into 2024? set is the only acceptable name for anakin to use undercover <3 we will be taking the set cinematic universe into 2024 <3

what's a project you're excited to carry into the new year? um all of my wips lol but especially time & tide and the couples counseling au - i have about half of the next chapter of t&t written, and before i got sidetracked by a more perfect union, i was on track to get that posted by christmas....obviously that did not happen lol but i'm expecting to get back to working on a few more chapter updates at the beginning of this year!