#patient y/n

[fl3shm4id3n]

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𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐤𝐡𝐚𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦?

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜ���ɴ ᴄʀᴀɴᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ꜱᴜᴄᴄᴜʙᴜꜱ/ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: slight SMUT?, Mentions of murder/homicides, reader is a narcissists and delulu (delusional af), mentions of promiscuity, talks about sex, reader is self absorb, age gap (reader is early 20s and Jonathan is in his early 30s), toxic behavior, reader is a bit needy, making out, titty grabbing and groping.

A/N: I wanted to write something, based on Jennifer Check from Jennifer's Body.

Masterlist

All that you regretted was not being careful enough, you had been caught. And out of all night, it just had to be prom night, you hated being seen the way that you did. Your dress all wet with blood, your hair was also wet and your makeup was a mess. When you saw the pictures on the news paper, you nearly lost it. All you wanted to do was scream by how bad you looked that night. The only good thing was that you looked hot in the orange jumpsuit given to you, the whole trial you were busy trying to look good and pretty for the cameras. You'd even smile and wave as if you were some kind of celebrity who just won an award and was loved by many. You weren't, but you loved to think that you did.

You were going to be an Arkham for a while, well until you were stable enough to go back out into the real world. You hated your stay. They didn't give you any kind of skincare or makeup that you could use. The only thing that was good was that you had your own room. Except that room looked like shit. You hated it, but it was better than dealing with a lunatic. Most days you'd be rotting in bed or looking at yourself in the small plastic mirror. Trying to make yourself look decent of some kind. You hated not having skincare of your makeup. One morning you had woken up, then discovered that you had a pimple on your cheek. You threw a fit, you screamed and even fought with the security guards because of your silly little outburst.

You didn't even know if you'd be able to stand being in Arkham for long. It's already been two whole years and you still haven't adjusted to that place for lunatics. You wanted to get out, but you couldn't. You couldn't bride anyone with smiles, eyelash flutters or even a kiss on the cheek. Nope, it would be much harder then you thought. When it came to doctors, you tried to bride them with a wink here or a complement there. But no, they'd get fed up with you and leave to tend to someone else. It frustrated you so much. One because those tricks would normally work on anyone. Mainly those dumb high school boys who really wanted attention from a hot girl. Except, you weren't in high school anymore. You were a whole adult and so was everyone in the nut house.

That morning you simply laid in bed, staring endlessly at the ceiling while chewing on a piece of your hair. You were bored, not only that but you felt as if your skin was dry and flaky. You were having a bad morning, all you wanted to do was lay in bed and simply rot. While you continued mindlessly staring at the ceiling, you heard your door open. Sitting up, you saw that it was one of the guards. Great, another doctor. Hopefully this one is easy to crack.

You got up, then followed the guard into the room where you were left alone with the doctor. They told you to sit down and wait, as you waited. You couldn't help but bitch and whine to yourself about looking like crap. "Ugh, if I could at least have my gold hoop earrings." You whined, while throwing your head back as you slumped onto the chair. After a few minutes. You heard the door open, you didn't brother looking over until you saw a man standing in front of you. "You must be miss L/N." He said, his voice sounded, soothing and almost relaxed. Looking up, you saw who this new doctor was.

You were taken by surprise due to how cute he was. He looked no older than late twenties or early thirties maybe. He has brown hair, pale skin, peachy plumped lips and those eyes. God, those eyes were the most beautiful thing ever, almost as beautiful as you. He looked just like those boy magazines that you'd often stare at and have day dreams about bring with those boys. "And who am I pleasured to meet?" You asked, while sitting up straight, even fixed your hair a bit. "I'm Jonathan Crane, but you can call me Doctor Crane." he responded, with a neutral look and voice. You couldn't help but bite your bottom lip and ogle at him, like a teenage girl, that you still wished you were.

"Do you know why am here?" Jonathan asked, while studying your body language. Seen how you must have been smitten by him. It was an obvious observation. "Because you wanted to see the one and only, Y/n L/n?" You teased, while you giggle. All he did was look at you, seen how you were just being a tease. "Just kidding, you came to see what was wrong with me, but don't worry. There's nothing wrong with me, but I'll let you check me up." You said, with a smile and wink. Jonathan just sighed, he almost couldn't believe how shameless you were. "So, your file says that you have been convicted of a few homicides involving boys." He explained, reminding you on why you were here in the first place.

"That was a long time ago, it doesn't even matter anymore." You said, almost getting annoyed but kept your composure. "Tell me about yourself, you must be interesting." You said, while leaning against the table a bit, giving him somewhat of a view of your chest. You were glad that the orange shirt of your prison jumpsuit was somewhat big enough to give a peak at your chest. "How about, we talk about you instead. I'm here to talk to you and about you." Jonathan said, making you blush like a school girl. Were you dreaming or something? "About me? What of me?" You asked him, while looking at him. Admiring how handsome he was. How well put together he is. You just wanted to run your fingers through his hair, maybe even take his glasses and try them on just for shits and giggle. You felt as if you had fallen in love with him on the spot.

"Dunno, I'll let you decide." He said, god he was such a gentleman. "I don't know..." you said, not sure what to say or do, but then you got an idea. You quickly changed your demeaner, you went from being flirtatious to a bit sad. "It's just, been so lonely." You moaned, almost seductively. But he didn't budge. "How so?" He asked, while studying your body language. "You know, no big, strong, handsome man to protect me." You said, while looking at him directly in his eyes. You had a small pout on your lips. Trying to seem and sound as innocent and seductive as possible. "I'm sure security is doing that." He said, damn it! He wasn't falling for it.

You sighed, but kept up your act. "I know, but... You know what I mean. I want someone to love and protect me. You know, how a husband protects his wife?" You asked him, while moving both your arms on both sides of your breasts and slightly pushed them together. Making them more visible for him to see. But you noticed how he wasn't even trying to look at your chest. He just looked at your face. Then you thought of something, slowly. You scooted a bit closer to the table, then your right arm reached over and held it out for his hand to take. "Can you lend me a hand?" You asked sweetly while tilting your head to the side. Jonathan hesitated, but he reached out and allowed you to get a hold of his hand.

You took his hand and slowly guided it towards your chest, but you placed his hand on where your heart was. His huge palm could feel the plushy and softness of your breast. You somewhat wished that he'd give it a small and light squeeze. "Feel my heart Doctor Crane... I think it's broken." You nearly said in a whisper. Seductively. Even with his hand on your breast he didn't seem to budge, he just looked at your face and nothing else. After some time, he removed his hand off your breast and checked the time on his watch. "Well, our time is up." That's all he said, you felt disappointed. You weren't used to that kind rejection, your previous doctors would of cummed right in their pants, him? He was going to be a challenge and you weren't going to give up easily.

Almost a whole month has passed and still, nothing. Doctor Crane was a hard nut to crack. Not only that, but your so called supernatural powers didn't show up. To this day, you still aren't really able to explain how you got them. Ever since that night that you had been killed by those guys who claimed to be a band, you've been behaving and acting strange. Were your powers weak? Or did they go away? The reason why you were powerful a two years back, was because you fed off the attention you were given by everyone, specially the boys. In here, anyone barely even looked at you. It made you feel weak and drained. Maybe that's what it was, the lack of attention is what's making you feel that way. You hated it.

The only one who fed you attention was Doctor Crane, after your sessions. You'd have that energy, you felt much fresher than before. That's what made you love him even more. Despite his coldness, he gave you that energy that you so needed. Your previous doctors didn't do that, since they only see you once and after you played your little game they'd leave because they couldn't stand you. Ever since Doctor Crane into your life, you couldn't help but fall for him. Was it really love? You weren't so sure or bothered trying to find an answer to your question. You just loved how he'd give you attention, even if it'd irritate the hell out of him. He stayed. Probably to study you some more, but you didn't mind being studied by him. As long as he feeds you the attention you've craved for the last two years, you didn't care.

That day, you didn't see the doctor. Since he was other stuff to do. It'd been a whole week since you've seen him. He'd come every day, until now. He just hasn't showed up at all. It made you sad and made you feel even more tired and drained. His attention was something that you've got addicted too. You wanted it, you had to have it. But you couldn't, it wouldn't be easy. You felt your skin get flaky and dry, like a snake's. You began to see that you were getting dark circles under eyes. Because of how tired you've got. God, you missed him so much. You've began to have dreams of you and him, married, living together. You didn't understand why, you didn't have dreams of that sort, ever.

It was already late at night, you laid in bed. Alone in the dark, still feeling like shit. You were laying on your side, facing the wall. Thinking about Doctor Jonathan Crane. You simply stared at the wall, seen how you had managed to engrave his name onto that old concrete wall. Since the day he didn't show up, was when you craved his name into the wall. Just so that you could stare and look at the name, sometimes even caress it as if it was the most delicate thing. Eventually you closed your eyes, trying to maybe get some sleep, and dream about him.

But your eyes quickly shot open when you heard the door of your room open. You quickly sat up and turned around to see who or what it was. It was somewhat dark, but the small window of your cell allowed you to see who it was. It was him, Jonathan. He stood there looking back at you for a whole minute. You didn't even notice him closing the door, your name focus was him. "Jonathan?" You said, almost in disbelief. "The one and only." He said, his voice made your chest rise and your heartbeat go over the roof. Not only that, but you also felt how your skin began to feel fresh, as if cold water had been splashed onto your dry skin. Making it feel refreshed.

"Oh Johnny." You said, quickly getting up from your bed and ran up to him. He wasn't far away from you, since your room was small. Almost as small as your old walk in closet. Once you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his waist. Hugging him tightly. "I missed you, so much." You said, while hugging him. You couldn't help but get a whiff of his washed clothed mixed with his cologne. You missed that scent, his scent. You felt how he too wrapped one arm around your waist and petted your hair. "I know you did." He said, neutrally, but it sounded sweet to you. He was sweet to you in his way. You didn't want to let go or him to let you go. You wanted to be in his arms forever until you both die and rot.

Then he slowly pulled away from you, looking down at your face. But you kept your arms around his waist, so that he couldn't go just yet or even attempted to leave. "You have no idea how bad I wanted to see you." Jonathan said, while gently caressing your cheek. Making you purr and close your eyes by the touch of his hand on your now fresh and bright skin. "Where did you go? Why did you leave me here alone?" you asked, almost desperate to know his reasons why you disappeared for a whole week. "I had other things to tend to." He said, while looking at you. Seen how week and vulnerable you were at the moment. "Doesn't matter anymore, at least you came here. To see me." You said, with a small smile on your lips. Happy to be this close to him. This was the first time you've ever been this close to him.

"Can I ask you something?" You asked, almost timidly, but you just had to ask him. "Of course, what is it?" He asked, while looking at you. His eyes, damn those eyes. They made your legs shake and nearly go week. "Could I kiss you?" you asked, while beginning to breath heavily. All of a sudden you got, you felt your skin heat up and needed to remove some clothes just to calm the heat down. Jonathan smiled at you. Sweetly, but that sweetness had a small hint of sinisterism. "Of course you can." He said, without hesitating. You smashed your lips against his.

Jonathan let out a small grunt as soon as your lips touched his. Your arms snaked around his neck, desperately trying to get him to be closer to you than he already was. Jonathan held you close to him as well. The kiss got slightly violent and more sloppy. Both your tongued wrestled one another's, followed by teeth clanking against one another and your lips pressed against his. You needed that, you wanted that. Jonathan's hands grabbed at your ass, giving it a squeeze every now and then, as a way of getting you either railed up or just flat out tease you. Soon after, you felt his hand get a hold of one of your breasts. Causing you to moan against his mouth.

His palm caress and gripped onto your breast, slightly pinching your harden nipple. "Ah!" You moaned against his mouth, feeling how your once weak body was burning with desire. You wanted more, you needed more. As soon as your hands reached down to get a hold of his belt. Jonathan stopped grabbing your breast and pull away from the sloppy kiss. "Wha-" You manage to say. You looked at him, shocked and breathless by his sudden motion. "Now now." He simply said, while he admired how worked up you were. "But-" You were quickly cut off by him. "Shh, shh." He shushed you. In which you. You could feel how his cold hand gently got a hold of your chin and cheeks, as soon as his cold skin touched the hot skin of your cheeks. You felt relaxed.

"Patience. You're not ready yet." He said, making you let out a small whine. "But I am." You whined, you sounded so needy, but you didn't care. You wanted him right there and then. "You think you're ready, but you're not. Be patient." He said said, almost in a whisper. So that only you could hear. You wanted to protest, but you didn't. You choose to listen again. You simply nodded in response. "Alright, Doctor." You said, almost in a form of a moan. Jonathan smirked at you, gently cleaning off yours and his mixed saliva off your bottom lip with his thumb. "Good girl." He praised, making you nearly fell at your knees by his words.

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[greengoblinswifey]

hii ! could you write a story about like nicholas chavez as a doctor x fem patient smut, I've been trying to find a good story like this but I literally can't 😭😭

much love !!

summary— you’re referred to Dr. Chavez at the hospital due to a misdiagnosis. one of your symptoms include intense, unrelenting arousal and as your doctor, it’s his job to help make you better in any way he can.

warnings— female masturbation, voyeurism, abuse of power, fingering, body worship, oral, degrading kink, praise kink, public sex kinda(hospital), unprotected sex, sir kink, ass slapping, choking(with tie), erotic asphyxiation, use of doctor during sex, slight manipulation if you squint, aftercare.

a/n— i’d love if you guys send requests, reblog and comment☺️

After a recent misdiagnosis left you frustrated and your symptoms worsening, you were referred to Dr. Chavez. Though he seemed slightly irritated about having to “fix someone else's mess,” he introduced himself with a polite but distant professionalism. He stood before you, impeccably dressed in a white coat over a crisp suit and tie, every detail in place. He was calm, collected, and intensely focused as he started going over your symptoms.

When you finally mentioned the most embarrassing one, the constant, nearly unbearable arousal, you noticed his reaction, a slight widening of his eyes, and a pause in his typing. “And, uh, how often would you say this happens?” he asked, his voice steady but his gaze flickering with something unreadable.

“Constantly doctor,” you admitted, cheeks flushing. “I’m always horny, sometimes it’s painful. Like, I just can’t think straight, or focus on anything else.”

After ordering several tests, he told you they’d need to monitor you at the hospital. This only intensified your frustration, the more time you spent in his presence, the worse your symptoms felt, in particular your constant arousal. You tried to distract yourself by prying into his life, probing the doctor with questions. You noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, which made your mind spin even more.

Hours turned to days, and your symptoms didn’t let up. You felt more tired, the frustration mounting as medical staff came in and out of your room. Privacy was nearly impossible, leaving you with no room to release the growing arousal that only got worse.

One night, after another round of exhausting tests, the hallway was finally quiet. You were alone. You couldn’t help yourself, the relief you craved was all you could think about. Without any other means as your vibrator had long since been forgotten at home, you let your fingers slide down, imagining Dr. Chavez’s calm voice, his firm hands. You closed your eyes, stifling a moan, picturing him standing over you, his gaze intense.

You flipped the sheets off you and hiked up the hospital gown they draped you in. Still not satisfied, you ripped your underwear off and spread your legs, your fingers frantically rubbing your clit then slipping into your sloppy hole. Soft moans filled the room as your head was swarming with thoughts of Dr. Chavez being the one to make you feel good.

Just then, the door clicked open, and there he was, clipboard in hand, looking caught off guard. He hesitated, his gaze flickering to the way you quickly pulled your hand back. He cleared his throat. “I came to check on you,” he said, his tone layered with something more than just professional concern.

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “Doctor, I—it's been so hard, I couldn’t help myself.”

For a moment, he lingered there, eyes locked on yours, before he shook himself slightly. “It’s part of my job to ensure you’re comfortable and to help you,” he replied, voice slightly rougher, eyes not quite meeting yours as he jotted something down on the clipboard.

You looked at him, unable to hold back the desperation any longer and you noticed the dent in his pants. “Well help me, doctor,” you whispered, voice thick with need. “Can you do something to make it go away? Please give me something, anything to make it stop.”

He stopped in his tracks, his already intense gaze darkening as he absorbed your words. “Beg,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Please, doctor,” you said, voice trembling, willing yourself to keep his attention. “Please help me, I need you to fix me, make me feel better.”

A dark chuckle slipped from him as he locked the door behind him, his fingers throwing off his tie and shrugging off his coat. He then stood right before you, his eyes sweeping over your form.

Without another word, he reached out, his fingertips barely grazing over your thigh as he leaned in close. “Needy, aren’t you?” he murmured with a smirk. His fingers teased, trailing down until they brushed against your pussy, his touch almost unbearably light.

“Please, Dr. Chavez,” you pleaded again, breath catching as his fingers lingered at the edges of your need. “Please, sir.”

His smile only widened as he took in your reaction, and without another moment’s hesitation, he knelt down before you. His hands were firm under your thighs and then his mouth was on your leaking pussy, a loud moan leaving you as he began. His focus was unrelenting, and you couldn’t contain your whimpers, each one drawing him in closer.

Every sound you made seemed to fuel him, his hands gripping you tighter, his touch sending you higher.

“Yes that’s it sir, don’t stop,” you whimpered, your hands going to his hair as you held him close and moved your pussy all over his mouth.

“Mm- you taste so fucking good, so fucking desperate for me aren’t you,” he hummed, in between licks.

He continued, now slipping a finger inside you and sucking on your clit, until, you arched your back off the bed and felt yourself let go, a sensation so intense you squirted and felt your pussy and your whole body quivering from it all.

His eyes met yours, a smirk on his lips. “You were so desperate, weren't you?” he murmured, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “Glad I could help.”

You leaned in and placed a sloppy kiss on his lips, savoring your own delectable taste.

“Hm,” Dr. Chavez paused, his lips still mere inches away from you, “based on my observations, I’ve come to the conclusion that you still need my help. You still need me to make you better, so I have to put my dick inside you sweetheart, I just have to.”

You nodded almost mindlessly, leaning into his touch, his mere presence was intoxicating. Though you got the relief you wanted, having him so close to you brought you back to square one. Your pussy was still leaking.

Breathlessly, he unbuckled his pants, the sight before you making you drool like a dog in heat. He slipped himself out, revealing a long, thick and rock hard cock you would do anything to feel inside you.

“God, look at you,” he said, licking his lips and pumping his cock, “tell me how bad you want me, how bad you want this dick.”

“Please sir, I want you so bad, I need you to fuck me. please help me,” you panted, desperation evident in your voice.

“That’s a good girl, my patients are always so obedient.” He grabbed your hair, bringing you down to his cock’s level and thrusted into your mouth.

“Worship this cock,” he demanded, his voice sounding strained as he tried to contain his moans.

“Fuck, I love your cock doctor, it tastes so good, I- mm, need it so fucking bad,” you said, in between having his dick brush your tonsil. You slurped and moaned as you continuously gagged on the feeling of him being so deep in your throat. Reaching down, you played with your clit, desperate for some sort of relief.

“Hey, hey, no,” Dr. Chavez bellowed, “stop touching yourself. I’m your doctor and I know what’s best, I’ll help you with my dick inside you, those tiny little fingers won’t satisfy you. They won’t make you better.”

You whimpered in response but listened. He was your doctor after all, he knew best. He would never tell you anything that wasn’t accurate.

His moans grew breathy and louder but as soon as you felt his balls tighten, he pulled you off his cock by the hair and in a swift motion, you fell flat on the bed.

“S’gonna be okay sweetheart, my cock inside you is gonna make it all better.”

Just as swiftly, his cock pierced your pussy, slipping inside you and stretching you slowly. The stretch was burning as he groaned and pushed deeper but the feeling was soon replaced by immense pleasure.

“Oh god, you’re so fucking wet, sloppy fucking pussy you’ve got huh,” he moaned, chuckling.

Your face was contorted in pleasure, looking up at your doctor as he pounded into you, the feeling better than anything else you’d ever experienced in your life. Your moans willed him on and his thrusts became more frantic as he felt your pussy grip and tighten around him.

“That’s it baby, this desperate little pussy can’t get enough of her doctor’s cock, gripping me so tight like she doesn’t wanna let me go.” A sob left your lips due to the intensity of it all and soon, you wrapped your legs around his waist, gripping on to him for dear life as you squirted on his cock.

“Good girl, that’s my needy fucking whore, let it all out.”

Small whimpers filled the hospital room as you slowly came down from your high, but you were still needy, your body grinding against him sending even more jolts of pleasure through you.

“M-more, please sir, just one more,” you begged tears in your eyes.

“Jesus Christ baby, you’re a fucking desperate whore aren’t you, God, you just can’t get enough of my cock.”

Your lips quivered and you knew you were being desperate but you didn’t care, all you cared about was your release just one more time. Just once and you’d be okay for the next few days. You needed it quick, the commotion was surely to make a nurse come wandering soon.

“I just— oh,” your sentence was cut short as he easily flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your ass up to him and slipped inside your wet pussy once more. You spread your legs and arched your back, needing him as deep inside you as he could go.

“That’s it baby, spread this fucking pussy.” He slapped your ass harshly and soon you felt something slip around your neck. It was his tie. He slipped the tie around your neck, not enough to restrict your airflow too much, but just enough to have your head spinning and only the thought of his cock in it.

“Take it, take this fucking dick. You were so desperate for it, now you have it.” A small cry left your lips as you felt him repeatedly hit your g spot.

“Oh you fucking love it, you love your doctor’s cock deep inside your wet fucking pussy don’t you, whore,” he inquired, pulling you back to his chest by the tie around your neck.

“Y- yes, I love it sir,” you managed to croak out.

“Good girl, because as long as you’re here and under my care, you’re gonna get this dick every fucking night. Every fucking time you’re needy and desperate my cock is gonna be here to fill this pussy.”

His words sent you over the edge and your body convulsed under his touch as you squirted. He continued fucking you through your high but you couldn’t take anymore. You squirmed away from him, your pussy somehow still gushing and he quickly pulled out, releasing his warm cum all over your back.

“Fucking hell, your pussy is just gushing,” he moaned, as he pumped his cock, milking himself of everything onto your back.

Your body was so weak you could barely form words as you tried to thank him for making you feel better.

“Shh, it’s okay baby, it’s my job to help you.” He shushed you then went to the bathroom, bringing back a cloth to clean you up and get you back into your underwear and fix your gown. He didn’t need anyone coming to check and seeing you in that state.

He kissed your forehead, caressing your body as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

“It’s okay baby, go to sleep, your doctor’s gonna always be here to make you feel better.”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

based on this cus i couldn't help myself. fluff n kissing and lowkey iida stray😭 3rd year suki :3

"m'gonna kill you."

normally, most people would be extremely confused, if not terrified at someone wrapping their arms around their waist from behind and those words being growled in their ear.

though not terrified, you are a little confused as to why your boyfriend would say this to you. while also nuzzling into your uniform.

"katsuki, what ?"

"m'gonna fuckin' kill you, if you don't wanna die get ready to tusle." he reiterates, the seriousness in his voice confuses you even more but you can't help but laugh a bit.

"why, what'd i do ?"you chortle. immediately you're spun around and pressed against the abnormally large door of your classroom. you'd been leaning on it waiting for him after you couldn't walk to class together like you usually do since mina had asked you to walk with her to the vending machine to get a snack before class. you figured it'd be okay since you texted him and he read your message but didn't respond, it's a classic petty katsuki move so you thought nothing of it.

but now it's looking like maaayybee you should've.

"ya fuckin' left without me this morning." ah, thought so.

"oh ?" you giggle. he doesn't look amused, glaring harder at you "yeah." he urged. "abandoned me so you could run off with racoon eyes."

"and that's why you're gonna kill me ? cus i didn't give you your morning kiss ?" you tease, voice quivering as you hold in your laughter.

"yup. hope you said your prayers." you roll your eyes, looking around the empty hallways before you decide to make your move. it seemed your teacher was going to be arriving a little late and since everyone had already headed to class the coast was clear.

wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you give him your sweetest eyes. you squeeze at him when he keeps glaring, he grunts.

"we don't have to take it that far.." you muse, pulling him closer to you, his lip twitches as he looks down at you. you get up a little closer to his face, smirking. "shoulda thought about that, sweets." he grumbles, sarcastically spitting the petname. keeping his arms on the door behind you. he's tough, but you're not done yet.

slowly you trail your arms up all the way around his neck, tugging him closer to you innocently. his ears redden the slightest bit, his mouth turns downwards harder and he's basically squinting at you. oh, you got him.

" oooorr..i could just..give you a morning kiss now..? wouldn't that be better ? if you kill me, who will give you your morning kisses then, hm ?" the sudden thought of your boyfriend finding somebody else as childish as it is makes a little salty, so you scrunch your nose up at the air " don't answer that."

at that, he cracks a smile, obviously proud to see the effect his insufferable self has on you. leaning in until your noses are a breath away from eachothers he smirks, usually he'd comfort you about your worries, but he knows better than to answer lest you get cranky and he doesn't get his kiss at all "fine." he grunts finally, his arms suddenly wrap around you, pulling you completely to his chest. he smirks when you splutter in surprise.

he grins "better make this one good, otherwise you owe me five more."

he says though he doesn't let you go after you've pressed your lips to his once..or the second time, pulling you closer to him and grumble when you try to pull away for a third kiss "stop squirmin'" he complains, arms squeezing you closer as you giggle about someone seeing you. katsuki bites at your lip, causing you to gasp. he breathes heavily "i don't care. gimme my kiss." he insists.

and how could you deny him ? you really couldn't, even as you hear your class rep gasp about how indecent and inappropriate you're both being. katsuki pulls away just slightly to grumble against your lips. and he shoots you a look, making a face to make fun of the boy scolding you both, you snort loudly and cover your mouth hoping he hasn't heard you.

katsuki is as unbothered as ever, snickering to himself that he was able to make you laugh, and he doesn't need anything else. he shoots iida a look, tells him him to fuck off, then dives in for one more kiss. he grabs your hand to drag into the classroom. he ignores iida as he continues lecturing you both, sending him a middle finger.

[yandere-writer-momo]

I know I promised Jervis, but Ed Nygma enraptured me. God I love that weird man. It’s short and sweet (to my standards).

Yandere DC Shorts: The Missing Piece

Yandere Riddler x Nurse Fem Reader

TW: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship dynamic, stalking, obsession, DELUSIONAL man, exploring Ed’s OCD a bit, and Edward Nygma is obsessive

Edward Nygma knew he was the smartest man in the world. He’s proven it countless times with his elaborate attacks on Gotham city.

He was simply kind enough to leave clues because he enjoyed the game he played with Batman! The attention thrilled him for years… at least until he got a taste of genuine affection from the new nurse in Arkham.

Never had Edward felt his heart flutter and his stomach twist when (your full name), his sweet nurse in Arkham, gently disinfected the wounds on his pale skin that were inflicted by guards. Never had has his breath shuttered when she’d ask in her soft, velvety voice if he was okay… never had he experienced someone show care for him.

By the heavens it was simply addictive. The chemicals that released in his brain when he saw (your name)’s sweet, smiling face were better than any drug known to man. Edward never wanted anyone more in his life.

Look at him, (your name)! Love him! Let him worship you as you equally worship him! Praise him! Be his! His! His! His!

If only the poor, little nurse realized just how detrimental of a decision she had made just by the simple act of kindness… maybe then, it would have saved her from the obsession of a lonely madman.

.

.

.

“I never noticed your eyes were such pretty shade of green, Ed.” (Your name) smiled warmly at her patient whose ears turned pink. “They remind me of sea glass.”

Edward held his hands that began to sweat profusely in nervousness. She thought his eyes were pretty? He found every inch of (your name) pretty! From the tips of her toes to the strand of each hair on the top of her head. How could someone be so perfect?

“T-thank you.” Edward felt so nervous… he wasn’t used to someone’s utmost attention. To compliments and praise he had always desired since he was young. He was thrilled to finally be perceived.

“I’m glad you’re healing up nicely.” (Your name) smiled at him as his green eyes studied her expectantly like a lovesick puppy. “I’ve been so worried about you. I’m sorry the guards are so nasty to you.”

She had no idea he purposely riled those British guards up just to be able to be here with her. That he needed his fix.

“I have a riddle for you…” Edward gave (your name) a sickly sweet smile as his heart fluttered and the blood rushed to his cheeks. Would she be able to solve it? He hoped so! He would try to make it easy so she could figure it out…

“A riddle? For me?” (Your name) smiled at him. “I’d love to hear one.”

Here it goes… Edward mentally told himself before the usual cocky persona he presented to the world came back to the forefront.

"What grows stronger the more you share it, and makes your heart beat faster when you're near someone special?"

(Your name) thought for a moment before she smiled. “Is it feelings for someone?”

“Correct.” Edward smiled as he took her hands in his. “Do you… have feelings for anyone?”

“Not currently.” She told Ed as his grip tightened on her hands. His breath shaky and his eyes glazed over.

Was he not on her radar? Did she… not see him as a man? Was he not handsome enough? Did he not have enough brawn?

“Ed? Are you alright-“ Ed suddenly pulled her close with a strength she didn’t know he possessed. His body trembled as all of his frustrated emotions bubbled to the surface.

“Look at me.” He said firmly. “Am I… not attractive?”

(Your name blinked. Once. Then twice. Her brows scrunched together in confusion.

“What do you mean, Ed?” She softly asked.

Ed scoffed and looked away. Why had he shown such vulnerability to her? (Your name) should feel blessed to be in his general vicinity! She was ungrateful to have the attention of the ingenious Riddler! She should be the one who begged for his attention, not the other way around-

(Your name) gently placed a palm on his forehead. “You’re hot to the touch, Ed… why didn’t you tell me you had a fever?”

Ed completely melted under the touch. His eyes closed and his breathing calmed. Her touch always felt so right… like his missing piece.

[yawnderu]

CW: mentions of kidnapping and stolen body autonomy.

Find a way in, kill the enemy, retrieve the hostages, leave. A routine of sorts that gave his life some sense of purpose to avoid going insane for the past two decades. Simon liked to believe he got over what happened in his past... truly, he did; and yet Manuel Roba’s horrors seem to haunt him no matter where how many years pass.

“C’mere.” Simon’s voice held no hostility, he made sure of it, yet your stiff position never changed. Legs angled to the right, hands folded on your lap, and eyes looking forward, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze even if it’s been hours since your rescue. Garrick, Price and Johnny have already tried to get you to talk multiple times, all of them with different approaches. 

Garrick was friendly, trying his best to seem approachable, a bright smile on his lips that you didn’t seem to notice, too busy staring at a wall no matter how much he tried to hold a conversation.

Price seemed fatherly, never once laying a hand on you even if it was itching to comfort you, and so he settled with telling you you’re safe now, how no one will ever get you again now that they're here. His words didn’t seem to do much, either. 

Johnny was… something else. His first attempt was a shitty pick up line, getting a reaction out of you for the first time— a nose scrunched up in disgust, but a reaction nonetheless.  

And Simon… Simon’s approach was different. The man was used to barking out orders and obeying them himself, not to deal with an unresponsive hostage. His behemoth frame was nestled next to you, putting a tray on the table and observing your reactions. From the way you swallowed thickly the moment the meal was presented to you, to the sound of your stomach growling. 

“Go on, then.” Your gaze follows his movements for the first time, the feeling of your stomach rumbling makes you more aware of your hunger, so many years being fed nothing but what was necessary to keep you alive by Manuel and his associates, so many years of being trained like a dog to obey to their very order. 

Simon can see the hesitation in your body language, too tense to allow yourself to dig in the way you wanted, yet no longer as stiff as before. There was a sense of relief at the fact that they didn’t seem to want to hurt you —unlike Roba—, yet years of non-stop brutal training can’t be erased within hours.

Roba’s training was engraved into your brain, and while the sense of security the SAS blokes gave you is something you’re thankful for, nothing guarantees they’re not working for him. You’ve seen other military men come and go throughout the years, always Roba’s friends, and always sharing the same disgusting, sadistic desires.

“Eat up.” The rest of the men watch the way you move, curiosity and amusement mixing at how strange your movements seem, almost robotic. Your forearms rest on the table, elbows away from the cheap wood as you attempt to hold your own cutlery— attempt, because it looks fully foreign to you, trying out different angles to make it work, and yet it's the first time in years you've been allowed to try and feed yourself.

Simon is the first one to catch on, having lived under Roba’s rules for long enough to know he enjoys taking people’s autonomy, to reduce them to nothing but a pathetic mess that depends on him. His gloved fingers are gentle as he takes the spoon from your hand, scooping up some food before holding it up to your lips. His full attention is on you, relief starting to make its way into his body as sees your rather soft lips wrap around the spoon, eating whatever he was feeding you. Lucky for you, this time it wasn’t an MRE… or beans on toast.

His gloved thumb wipes the corners of your lips every time you’re done chewing, and he’s quick to pick up more food from the plate, nothing but patience and kindness shown in his actions, so unlike the brooding soldier he's known to be.

“... two goldfish are in a tank…?” Johnny’s loud groan gets your attention for a second, yet you quickly glance back at Simon, curious eyes looking up at him, almost as if asking him to go on. 

“One turns to the other and says… ‘you know how to drive this thing?’” You can see the corners of his eyes crinkle before he even finishes his joke, clearly trying his best not to laugh at just how awful it was. A small smile hides in the corners of your lips, and Simon takes that as a victory, ignoring the questioning looks he’s getting from his team, for now.

[aventurineswife]

“Teach Me Gently, Guide Me Kindly”

Summary: While struggling with a challenging lesson, you find solace in Anaxa’s patient and gentle guidance. What begins as a simple study session turns into a quiet, meaningful moment of connection, as he helps you understand difficult concepts with care and warmth.

Tags: Anaxa x Reader, Fluff, Teacher-Student Dynamics, Soft!Anaxa, Gentle Teaching, Comfort, Slow Burn, Learning Together, Patient!Anaxa, Warmth, Quiet Moments.

The cool breeze of the evening swept through the open windows of the study hall, rustling the papers on the desk. You were seated at one of the many tables, half-focused on the lesson, your mind wandering with thoughts of the day. The quiet hum of the building and the soft tapping of Anaxa’s chalk against the board helped you stay in the moment, though your mind had a tendency to wander.

Anaxa, ever patient, turned back from the chalkboard and caught your gaze. His one eye softened in amusement, and a slight smile tugged at his lips. “You seem distracted,” he said, his voice low but gentle.

You chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. “I guess... it’s just hard to focus with all these new concepts,” you admitted, your voice trailing off in a sheepish tone.

Anaxa’s smile widened as he stepped closer, leaning against the desk near you. “You’re not alone in that feeling,” he reassured you, his voice carrying an unexpected warmth. “Learning can be difficult, but that’s why I’m here.” He reached over and gently placed a hand on your open notebook, pointing to a particular equation. “Let’s go over it together.”

You felt your heart flutter, not from the complexity of the lesson, but from the tenderness in his words. There was something about Anaxa’s presence that made everything feel less intimidating. Maybe it was his calm demeanor or the fact that he always made sure you felt understood, but with him, learning seemed like less of a burden.

With a soft exhale, you nodded. “Okay, let’s try again.”

He leaned down a bit, his face close to yours as he explained the next step in the equation, his voice low and careful. “The key is in breaking it down. Each part has a purpose, a connection. See?” His finger traced along the page, guiding your hand over the numbers. “You’re very close, just trust the process.”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little less pressure with his gentle guidance. You’d been working on this for hours, but with Anaxa, it almost felt like a quiet shared moment of peace amidst all the study. His presence was more comforting than you expected from someone with such a scholarly reputation.

When you finished the problem together, Anaxa leaned back, his smile full of quiet pride. “There you go. You did it.”

Your eyes sparkled with accomplishment, and you couldn’t suppress the small laugh of joy. “Thanks, Anaxa. I think I finally get it.”

He placed a hand over his chest, as if to modestly accept the gratitude. “It’s you who deserves the credit. I’m just here to help point the way.”

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a quiet warmth in your chest. “You’re a good teacher. I’m glad you’re here.”

Anaxa’s smile softened, and for a moment, he simply stared at you as if he were savoring the moment before he stood up. “I’m glad to be of assistance.” He made his way back to the board, his movements slow and purposeful.

The room grew quieter as you both returned to the lesson, but the air between you was comfortable, a gentle understanding that made everything feel just a little lighter.

And as the evening light faded and you worked through more lessons together, you couldn’t help but appreciate how much easier learning had become in his presence.

[nanaslutt]

gojo's first time meeting you and instantly noticing your freckles. like nothing other than your freckles, not even the clothes you're wearing rn or your hair or eyes.

freckles.

and im absolutely sure geto would be so fed up with gojo ranting about how he wants to kiss every single one of them.

oh my god this is so cute???????? this reminds me of gojos cannon reaction to seeing geto for the first time and thinking “bangs” lol

contains: fem transfer student!reader, 3rd year satosugu, geto choosing to stay at jujutsu tech au, the boys are both 19 here, Geto has morals, gojo uhhhhhh, crackkk, fluff, perv!gojo, masturbation, caught masturbating, fantasizing

note: the toji fic will b posted later tonight or tmrw morn :p

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

Freckles………

If you looked close enough you might be able to see the white orbs floating around Gojo’s head,

“Uhhh, sorry is there something on my face” you spoke up when he didn’t say anything after you introduced yourself.

Satoru getting jolted out of his trance when suguru landed a mean smack on the back of his head, pouting at his dark haired bestfriend.

“Sorry about him,” geto apologized on his behalf, “he can be quite oblivious to how his actions affect other people.” suguru grit behind his teeth, looking out the corner of his eye to see satoru shooting daggers at him.

“Asshole…” the white haired man mumbled under his breath, looking up from under his white lashes, gaze set back on your face, watching you rub the back of your neck, saying something to geto.

Words leaving your mouth sounding muffled as his gaze dropped to your neck, noticing that the brown spots trailed further and further down the length of your neck, even traveling under the collar of your shirt, where the cloth obstructed his view.

Lip twitching up breifly at his annoyance, wanting to see just how far the freckles really went.

“Right satoru?” Suguru laughed, both of you directing your attention to the albino, “god da-“ smacking him harder once more on the back of his head, sending him his body curling in on himself on the ground and groaning, “manners satoru jesus christ.” suguru smacks a heavy hand over his face at gojos antics.

—

Gojo let his head fall of the edge of sugurus bed, silky hair falling around his ears, suguru laying against the headboard, flipping through some magazine, sugurus low-fi playlist playing softly in the backround.

“God….did you see how her frek-“ Geto swiftly cutting him off by kicking his foot into his shin, “satoru i swear to god if you say one more thing about her fucking freckles i’m going to cut out your tongue.” he spat, not looking up from his magazine.

For days after your first meeting he would not shut up about how cute he found your freckles.

Learning when you wore a skimpy tank top when sparing with shoko, that the cute spots not only covered your pretty face, but your arms and hands too.

Watching the light hit your skin as your body moved swiftly, shirt lifting when you flipped and twisted yourself, seeing the freckles and moles scattered across your tummy.

Shirt barely having lifted for a couple milliseconds, but he didn’t have good eyesight for nothing. Gojo quickly memorizing the placement of the dots and engraving it in his brain.

Brain practically short circuiting when the sun was beating down on the school a little too how one day, meaning he got to see you in shorts.

short, skimpy, tight, shorts.

It was like you wanted him to look, leaning over the counter, knees perched on the stool and elbows on the counter, cradling your soft cheeks in your hands as you spoke to shoko over the table.

Twisting your hips on the swivel stool, making the fabric of your shorts raise, letting him see even more brown spots on the insides of your thighs from his place on the couch behind you.

“torruuu,” geto caught him off gaurd, whispering into the shell of his ear, “quit bein a fucking perv.” turning to look at the not so friendly looking smile plastered on the dark haired mans face. ugh. buzzkill.

Taking them back to the present, “I know I knowww, you hate beauty we get it..” gojo drawled, sticking his tongue out and rolling his eyes. Lucky the bed blocked geto’s view of gojo’s face from here, as he probably would’ve hit him.

“I just cannot stop thinking about kissing her cute little face, maybe her neck..” pausing for a second, getting too absolved in his words, “below her neck…” he whispered.

“Satoru, stop telling me about your perverted fantasies about our new classmate, please.” letting the magazine drop into his lap as he finally let himself look down at the man.

Geto quickly noticing the extremely obvious tent in his pants. “You have 2 seconds to get you and your boner off my bed or your not gonna like it.” geto growled.

Gojo let his body slide of the bed backwards headfirst into the hardwood floor. “You hate meeeee,” he dragged out his words dramatically, “You hate my happinesssss” he continued, geto closing his eyes and shook his head, feeling a headache come on at his antics.

“I hate your penis.” Geto corrected. “She has a mind of her own, it’s not my faul,” gojo defended, sprawling his limbs out on the floor.

“Did you just refer to your dick as ‘she’?” Geto asked, needing to clarify the insanity gojo was spouting, leaning over the end of his bed to get a better look at the white haired freak.

“Well yeah,” he stated like it was obvious, “cant be a ‘him’, that would be gay.”

Geto blinked at him, glancing at the ceiling to center himself before he looked back at the man on the floor. Leaning back out of view, he picked up the magazine, throwing it straight at gojos crotch. Of course now of all times when geto decided to assault him, he had his infinity on.

“Oh that would’ve hurt so bad,” gojo closed his lanky legs together, covering his crotch with his hands. “I cant believe you really went for my nads.” gojo bit his lip in offense, faux crying at getos meaness.

Geto just rolled his eyes in response, flopping back into the bed, folding his hands over his chest as he was left entertain-less.

—

When the two of you finally exchanged numbers, he used the opportunity to ask to take a picture together; for your profile picture of course!

Definitely not because he wanted to stare at the picture by himself for hours; pinching the screen between his fingers, zooming in and out of on the photo as he now could really map out each and every one of your freckles.

Blushing when his brain compared them to the constellations, how romantic he thought.

What happened next was… less romantic.

Phone laid out on the bed underneath him while his hand laid next to it, bracing himself as he hovered above it, other hand rapidly stroking his cock.

Staring into your eyes unabashedly, no geto around to tell him off as he engraved whatever piece of your face he wanted into his brain permanently.

Squeezing over the tip when he looked at how big his hand looked compared to your shoulder, palm resting on it in the photo.

Twitching at the mole placed perfectly on your cleavage, getting a great view of the crack between your breasts from the high angle he held the phone at. Mentally patting himself on the back for that.

He had zoomed in onto your half of the photo, not wanting to look at himself while he masturbated.

Mouth watering with the urge to press his lips against every single one of your freckles. Imagining you giggling and blushing while he tickled your face with his soft lips making him dizzy.

Gojo imagined your hand instead of his, wrapped tightly around his cock. He imagined pressing his length against your plush lips, rubbing the tip over them, feeling your tongue dart out and lick his tip.

Groaning out your name when he came, abs clenching when ropes of cum spurted out of his dick, and all over the sheets underneath him.

Grimacing when he watched some of it land on his phone screen; disgust being slightly overpowered by how erotic your pixelated face looked with his cum decorating it.

“Satoru did you take my charger again? Swear i’m gonna kill you-“ Suguru cut himself short when he slid satoru’s door open, taking in the scene in front of him.

Geto wasn’t able to fully see his phone, but he knew full well what his jerk off material was.

Satoru gave him a dopey grin, practically seeing smoke emit from atop getos head as he slammed the door shut, kicking his foot against the wood and yelling out, “cant believe i’m best friends with such a pervert!” down the hallway, voice getting quieter the further he got away from gojos room.

Satoru didn’t care though, gazing back at his phone, picking it up in his palm before using his thumb to smear the cum over your smiling lips lewdly.

He absolutely needed to get his hands on you, and he would make sure he did.

[thechy-fychannel]

y'all ever think abt how it was julie having the affair and it is even said multiple times that she was the one who left him, yet wilson was still the one who left their home and moved in with house. like. he couldn't bear to stay in their home alone. he immediately ran to house and stayed on his couch for weeks. suffered through his pranks and his laziness and his manipulation. telling him he wants him gone while sabotaging his attempts to leave. and he only left once he got a girlfriend again.

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part ten)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: the final resolution, at a funeral, of all places.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, minor character death, topics of grief, alcohol consumption, mentions of blackmail, use of pet names, — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

a note from me: hello friends, it’s been a while. apologies for the radio silence and for living this fic unfinished until now. life just happens and surprise, i had a whole ass baby last year (call me mother). postpartum is not easy and it especially has not been kind on my mental health, so i took time to get my pink back while taking care of another human. i appreciate you sticking with me and being patient - this is for you!

“This is all my fault.”

Unsurprisingly, Eddie blames himself. He always does. Even if he isn’t the one to be held liable. Call it insecurity, whatever. Eddie Munson just believed, from a very young age, that he was a walking magnet for all things unlucky.

Certain events occurred for no reason the brunette could explain, other than there being an unknown higher power had it out against him, which he’d often say to Wayne in hopes of some show of sympathy or a lesser reprimand. And even though, for the most part, Wayne agreed with his nephew, there were certain tricky situations for which the young Munson boy only had himself to blame. „Bad decisions lead to bad outcomes”, Wayne would mutter at the dinner table as Eddie sat, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his swollen eye. 

His luck had briefly changed once he accidentally became friends with Chrissy Cunningham.

The preppy blonde offered him kindness — not something he’s been privy to before, especially not from the Hawkins upper class. Chrissy didn’t care about his upbringing, his social status, living conditions, or his style. She stood up for him in front of the rest of Hawkins’ finest on more than one occasion, pure acts of heart that to this day many of the townsfolk believe cost the cheerleader her life.

“Jesus Christ,” Eddie exhales, then repeats, “this is all my fucking fault.” Panic detectable in the sound of his voice.

“Stop that,” Marianne insists in a whisper, eyes focused on the rockstar as he paces, hands deep in the pockets of his black tailored trousers. 

He sighs. “If I had never gotten involved—”

“Eddie, I mean it.” Marianne cuts in. “This is most definitely not your fault and none of the people gathered here today believe that it is.” She tries her best to reassure her favourite client. “I know that may be hard for you to believe considering what you told me recently…” 

There’s a pause.

“No one thinks this is your fault, Eddie.”

“She does,” the rockstar says simply, ending the conversation. He then pushes through the double doors that lead inside the church.

The silence inside is agonising. Almost suffocating. Patrons dressed head to toe in all shades of black, staring blankly ahead at the altar. Staring at the open casket which was surrounded by floral arrangements made from dozens of white roses.

Eddie looks ahead, toward the front row, where the family is sitting. Your family. From oldest to youngest, all of your siblings, shoulder to shoulder: Caroline, Valentine, Amelia, and little Jonah in your father’s arms. Your mother is a little removed. She’s at the end of the row and by the way her body is shaking, Eddie can tell she’s crying — understandably so.

There’s a lot to be said about death. Eddie knew that first hand. 

Chrissy’s death, for example, was an event that forever changed the trajectory of his miserable life. The accusations, the mob mentality, all of that was the push the brunette boy needed to finally get out of town and make something of himself. Escape. Although, it could have gone either way. He knew that, he wasn’t a complete idiot. It took a long time for the rockstar to come to terms with what happened that night. And even now, years later, Eddie knew that back in Hawkins, he’d forever be blamed for something he didn’t do.

“None of the people gathered here today believe that it is.” Marianne’s words from just moments ago echo in his ears as he desperately tries to get a grasp on his feelings.

This was the third funeral Eddie has ever attended. Second, if you count the fact that the boy was far too young to remember that of his mother’s and it’s not like Wayne ever shared any details. Actually the first funeral because although Chrissy’s burial was a day the brunette rockstar could never forget, he wasn’t entirely welcome there. That didn’t stop him, of course. He did not make his presence known. Instead, Eddie hid between the trees at the cemetery, watching from afar. 

Seemingly, the entire town was there which made the young Munson boy angry ‘cause these people didn’t care for Chrissy. They were all phonies. Acting like they knew her when in fact, if asked, they wouldn’t even be able to say what her favourite colour was. Eddie knew her. He really knew her. In fact, Chrissy told him so many times. “I think you’re my only true friend, Eddie.” She admitted one afternoon. “You know, it’s quite lonely being the most popular girl in school. With you though, I don’t feel so alone.”

The memory makes his heart hurt. More so because it’s been locked away for years. Hidden in a metaphoric box that the rockstar swore he’d never reopen. Recently though, considering the circumstances, Chrissy has been on his mind a lot more. Her big blue eyes, her bouncy blonde ponytail. Her smile, her laugh. The sound of her voice. Her kind heart. Recently, Eddie’s been thinking about his friend quite often. Thinking about how he wasn’t allowed to say a proper goodbye.

Goodbye…

“What are you doing here?” 

His head snaps up at the question, brown locks bouncing with the sudden movement. He quickly looks around, but no one else currently inside the church seems to be paying attention to him, or to you. And you… You’re staring at him, waiting for an answer. 

“I-I came to pay my respects.” It seems rather obvious, although maybe not.

All you do is nod. 

Eddie notices how you’ve been crying. On instinct, he reaches for your hand. He wants to offer you comfort. Some solace amongst all of this sadness. To his surprise, you don’t pull away. In fact, you allow your fingers to tangle themselves amongst his and when the rockstar squeezes, once, gently, your whole body seems to relax.

“I am truly sorry for your loss.”

You respond with a timid smile. It’s not much, but it’s all you can muster. 

Thursday, October 14. Time? 9:27pm. That’s when you got the call. Your strangely composed father broke the news. An accident. You could hear sirens in the background. He was driving. Someone ran a red light. He was okay. Time seemed to slow as he continued. “Sweetheart, your Nana… Can you pick up your mom and meet us at the hospital?”

The older woman had never looked so frail. Bandaged up. Connected to all sorts of wires and tubes, monitors that beeped so loud you thought your brain was going to explode, machines that were essentially keeping her alive. Your Nana’s eyes were closed when you walked in and for the next three days. You took turns sitting by her side. Talking to her, reading her favourite gossip columns, Val even repainted her nails while Caroline always made sure her hair was brushed and perfect.

News of the accident spread. The hospital room quickly filled with bouquets of flowers and various ‘Get Well Soon’ cards — one of which was signed by Eddie.

Once he heard about what happened, the Corroded Coffin frontman dipped early from his own album release party to fly back to New York as fast as he could. Yes, your grandmother has made it nearly impossible for him to be with you, but at the end of the day, she was still your family and you were undoubtedly hurting. Setting his own feelings aside, he wanted to be there for you. Simple.

If you weren’t at the hospital, you were curled up in bed, crying into Eddie’s chest. 

Then you got the call.

Your Nana was awake.

Doctors later explained her sudden surge in energy as terminal lucidity. In the moment however, no one questioned the miracle that brought her back to you and your family. No one batted an eye. Just happy to see her eyes open and hear the snark in her tone of voice. If only for a few hours, she was back to her old self. 

“I’m going to get some more coffee.” With a gentle squeeze to your Nana’s hand, your mom exits the hospital room leaving you briefly alone with the matriarch of your family.

There’s a split second of silence during which you contemplate telling her how scared you were that she was going to die, but you stop yourself because there’s no need to burden her mind with such horrific thoughts.

Although, your Nana seems to read your mind.

“Please don’t fill your pretty head with worry,” she says reassuringly, “I know I gave you all quite the scare, but it’ll take a lot more than some car crash to take me out.”

“Don’t joke like that.” It comes out rather flat.

“Then smile for me, my darling.”

You abide by her request, lips twirling upwards for your Nana to see. She mirrors your expression and for the next twenty seconds, all is good again in the world. She really wasn’t going anywhere. You didn’t have to be scared anymore.

“Now that we got that out of the way,” she says matter-of-factly, “This little accident I found myself in did force me to rethink my behaviour with regards to a few things.”

You shake your head. “You don’t have to do that here.”

She ignores you. “I do have to, and want to, come clean about something I did.”

With a swift exhale — for added courage — your Nana spills her shame. Once you hear Eddie’s name escape her tired lips, you sort of black out. Only hearing fragments that don’t entirely make sense to you. Something about bias and her distaste towards the metalhead. Chrissy Cunnigham. The blackmail. The breakup. Your breakup. There’s puzzle pieces missing. Yet even without the borders, even through the haze of the moment, you got fragments of an answer to why Eddie ended things that second time. 

The woman you cherished, the woman you had to thank for your entire career, was unfortunately the same woman who came between you and happiness. She made a choice for you. A choice that ended with you bed bound for weeks. Heartbroken. A recluse.

As she squeezes your hand, through tears in your eyes, you ask her if it was worth it. Forcing Eddie to hurt you like that.

Unfortunately, you never get an answer.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The room fills with doctors and nurses faster than you can realise what’s happening. They’re asking you to move out of the way, so you do. You stand at the wall, arms tight against your heaving chest, and you watch, terrified, as the professionals do everything in their power to keep your grandmother alive.

But the beeping doesn’t stop. Not exactly. Instead it slows. Flatlines. 

At some point, your mom had returned to the room. She’s panicked, asking what happened. You don’t know what to say, pushing yourself further into the wall behind you, hoping it would swallow you whole — it doesn’t. 

Chest heaving, you don’t know how to act, what to do. In the blink of an eye, the space of a single breath, your Nana passed away. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. “She was fine”, you find yourself saying, but no one is listening. The nurses unplugging her lifeless body from all of the machines, while the doctor speaks with your mom, calmly explaining what could’ve caused the sudden change in your grandmother's state.

“She was fine,” you repeat, but don’t move from your spot. Instead, you close your eyes to hold back the tears.

The sadness was imminent. The anger however, well, the anger overwhelmed you.

Your Nana, this human you idolised for your entire life, the person who helped you and shaped you into who the world deemed worthy, the woman who always had your back, turned out to be a liar. She was no better than any of the other leeches who had befriended you only to mooch off your success. 

Whatever her reasonings were at the time, she put your happiness aside by threatening your career. Something you’d never thought she’d do. And what was worse, she made a decision for you, then kept it a secret for months on end. 

Her and Eddie.

The rockstar is waiting for you when you get home — like he has been every night since the accident. You find him in the kitchen, cooking. He turns when you walk in and immediately drops the wooden spoon in his hand, wiping his fingers on the denim of his jeans before pulling you into a hug.

Eddie is the epitome of comfort, that much you’re sure of. But you don’t immediately return the embrace because your mind is confused. He lied, in a way. He said he wasn’t the relationship type and that’s the reason he can’t be with you officially. Now you know that’s not entirely true.

The Corroded Coffin frontman senses your apprehension, though before he gets a chance to ask what’s wrong, half formed sentences are spilling from your mouth into the crook of his neck.

“She’s dead.”, “She told me—.”, “The blackmail…” , “Why didn’t you?”, “She died— She died before I-I could get the full story.” “Eddie, what the hell—”

You pull away slowly, then wipe your eyes with the sleeves of your cashmere sweater. Eddie’s hand travels to your cheek ‘cause he doesn’t want to let you go, afraid that if you take even one step away from him, you’ll never find your way back.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he whispers and you nod. “And I’m sorry for all the lies.”

“Eddie—”

“Please,” he interrupts, “I-I promise I will explain everything to you, but right now,” the rockstar pulls you in for another hug, “you should get some sleep.”

You nod against his chest and let him lead you across the apartment, towards your bedroom. Like a knight in shining armour, Eddie helps you into bed, taking off your shoes in the process and placing them gently at the corner of the bed. He covers you up with the soft duvet before closing all of the blinds and making himself comfortable next to you.

Before you know it, your eyes are closing. You let tiredness win.

When you wake up, some fourteen hours or so later, the Corroded Coffin frontman is nowhere to be found. Just a note on your bedside table with the words, I’m sorry. I swear I’ll explain my side of the story in time, but right now, it’s best if you’re with your family. I don’t want to get in the way of your family.

Fuck him.

-

“I am truly sorry for your loss.” Eddie’s words are sincere, you can tell by the slight tremble in his voice. “She may not have been my biggest fan, but I know she loved you.”

“I doubt that.”

He shakes his head. “She loved you, that’s why she did all that she did.”

“You promised you’d explain.”

“I don’t think this is the time—”

“It’s never the right time with you.” You say harshly while looking away, at the crowd of people that knew your Nana at one point during her adventurous life. “Excuse me,” you add without glancing at him again and walk in the direction of your family.

The service is beautiful. 

You fight back tears throughout, knowing that there’s always someone lurking, trying to catch you crying for a picture they can later sell to the tabloids for hundreds of dollars. And you do a good job hiding your emotions because that’s what you were always taught to do in public situations. Taught so by the very woman your family was mourning today. You feel her presence strongly in that moment, as you bite the inside of your cheek. You can hear her voice inside your head, telling you to straighten your back and hold your head high, “Never let them know what you are thinking.”. Instead, you’re trying your best to focus on the eulogies. 

Your father speaks first. With your little brother steadily in his arms, he reads a letter written by your mother, who was too distraught to come up and read it on her own. His pace is slow as he enunciates every single syllable — something he only ever does when he’s angry or sad. When he’s done, he looks at your crying mother and mouths, I’m sorry, I love you, before stepping off the altar and letting your older sister take his place at the stand.

“My grandmother was a remarkable woman.” Caroline clears her throat into the microphone. She’s equally as composed as you, although the smudged mascara in the corner of her eyes gives away tears she shed before the funeral started.

Caroline continues, “She led an amazing life, although not without its challenges. She overcame it all with grit and wit — qualities she tried to pass onto us, her grandchildren.”

She pauses. Almost as if she’s hesitant to keep going.

“I’m sure each and every one of you here today has a story to share on how my grandmother touched your life. She was a friend to all and an enemy to some.” That earned my sister some laughs. “Her priority had always been our family and now that she’s gone, we definitely feel a void. I for one don’t know if I can still be the same person I was when she was here.”

Caroline finishes with a prayer. She then strides towards the front aisle and retakes her seat next to you. She squeezes your hand, sympathy and encouragement, as you take in a deep breath and stand. 

Everything feels in slow motion during the fifty-odd seconds it takes you to stand where your older sister just stood. You retrieve a piece of paper from inside the sleeve of your couture black jacket and lay it flatly in front of you. The words blur in front of your eyes but only for a split second. “Never let them know what you are thinking.”, and so you don’t.

“Our parents give us life. Our grandparents give us a sense of who we are and where we come from,” you begin. “This week, as we said goodbye to my dear Nana, it hit me how incredibly lucky I have been to have her, not only with me, but as an integral part of who I’ve become in my life.”

“Without my Nana, I’d still be singing Dusty Springfield in my bedroom. I wouldn’t know how to play any musical instruments and the poems I’ve written over the years, well, they’d remain just that. As the incredible matriarch, the regal leader in our family, she pushed all of us grandkids to strive for greatness. Without her, we’d be just another family. Faces lost in the sea of New Yorkers. I know I speak for all of my siblings when I say that thanks to our warrior Nana, we learned who we really are and we are able to live our lives without—”

You pause and look up at the crowd, your eyes first landing on the front row, your family, then further, until they meet a certain brown pair. Eddie offers an encouraging smile and even though there are many things running through your mind about what he and your Nana have done, your lips tilt upward to return half the expression.

“We can live our lives freely,” you change the sentence before continuing, “And even though she’s no longer with us physically, I can still feel her presence. She’ll be with me forever.”

As you wrap up your eulogy, the piano begins playing soft notes of You Decorated My Life by Kenny Rogers. Your father stands along with five other men and they take their place by the casket, lifting it carefully then carrying it out of the church.

-

“Your eulogy was really beautiful.”

Eddie’s voice breaks you away from your thoughts.

The rockstar is leaning against the doorframe of your teenage bedroom, where you’ve come to hide from all of the people gathered in your parents house for the wake. There’s a shaded smile present on his face, kindness behind his eyes. You instantly feel warm.

“It’s hard to be angry at someone who’s given you so much.”

“So you’re just angry with me then?” He probes, stepping inside and gently kicking the door shut with his heel.

Shaking your head, you say, “No, I’m not angry with you, Eddie,” then sigh, “I think I’m just disappointed.”

“That’s probably worse,” he admits.

You pat the blanketed spot next to you, inviting him to sit down. He does so without hesitation and when his arm brushes against yours, you instantly lean your head against his shoulder. 

“I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me the truth. Allow me to make my own decision.”

Eddie nods. “I get it. I guess I was just scared you’d think I was making it all up, trying to paint your grandmother as someone she isn’t.” 

For a moment, it’s quiet. The afternoon light seeps in through the half-closed curtains, offering a glow that you’ve only ever witnessed in Eddie’s Hidden Hills home.

“Why did you leave that night? When she died, I woke up and all I had instead of the person I really needed beside me was a sorry excuse for a note.”

He doesn’t immediately answer and that frightens you. A thought crosses your mind that he’s still hiding something — which would be crazy since it was your Nana who seemingly orchestrated everything.

“Yeah, that was an asshole move on my part.” He admits, “I uh, I was scared that when you woke up, you’d be twice as angry about this whole debacle with your grandmother that you wouldn’t let me tell you my side of the story.”

“So, your gut instinct was to run?”

“Always is, sweetheart.”

You scoff. 

“I wanted to give you the space to grieve and understand your own emotions first before I loaded more shit onto you,” Eddie says honestly.

There’s a split second of silence.

“Can you tell me everything now?”

“If that’s what you want.”

You lift your head, tilting it so that your eyes catch his. 

“I want to move on with our lives and that can only happen when I have the full picture.”

Eddie raises a brow. “Our lives?”

“Yes,” you say, taking his ring-clad fingers in yours, “Ours.”

-

“That’s the moment I really knew I can never let her go again,” Eddie says, hand on your thigh.

The interviewer clicks her pen, satisfied with all of the information the two of you have given her over the last few hours. She lets out a content sigh to prove as much before leaning forward slightly, over her crossed legs. 

“I gotta say, you guys are my favourite Hollywood couple.”

“Thank you,” you say with a smile, then glance at Eddie. “We also think quite highly of ourselves.”

“That we most certainly do,” the Corroded Coffin frontman agrees with your sentiment and beams at you affectionately. Your heart soars.

It has been almost one whole year since your Nana passed and you know she’s rolling in her grave ‘cause of how much you’ve accomplished with the rockstar by your side. 

After the funeral, Eddie agreed with Marianne, his label, and most importantly, his bandmates, to stay in New York while you finished filming for Law & Order. He took the occasional trips back to the West Coast for photo and video shoots along with management meetings, but for the most part he was by your side, day and night. He came with you to set, championing you on this new journey from singer to actress.

When filming for your character wrapped, you packed a big suitcase and joined him on tour. You’ve never really gotten to go on a road trip. Whenever you went on tour for your albums, it was from the private plane to the venue to the hotel, repeat, repeat, repeat. Being on a tour bus with Eddie and his friends, in a different American city every other night — all while getting to watch Eddie do what he does best, on that stage, in front of thousands of screaming fans — was somewhat also a dream come true for you. 

During that time, you finally met Eddie's uncle, Wayne. He came to the show in Indianapolis, watching the performance with you from backstage. Afterwards, Wayne spilled about one thousand secrets and stories from Eddie’s childhood. Some heartfelt, some more delinquent. From the time young Eddie broke his arm while trying to save a stray cat from a tree, and the countless times a teenage Eddie would sneak out to sell weed at rich kids parties.

You fell for him harder then, and even more with each day that passed.

Months later, when the Assistance is Futile tour had its final show in Los Angeles, you told Eddie you weren’t going back to New York: “If you’ll find space for me in that big mansion of yours, that is.”. The brown-eyed rockstar smiled wide at your words, then said: “Our mansion, sweetheart.”.

While you brushed up on your acting skills, landing more and more television and movie roles, Eddie got to work on his third album with Corroded Coffin. That’s when he found the notebooks. Lyrics for songs the two of you had written during your summer together, before your grandmother meddled and it all went to shit. He brought them to you, a twinkle in his eyes.

“I know you’re transitioning away from singing, but hear me out…”

That’s how The Popular Kids was born. Corroded Coffin’s third studio album, with one twist. You.

Which brought you both here, to the interview at Eddie’s Hidden Hills home that has, over a short period of time, also become your home.

“Well, it was great to chat with you two today. Get to know you a little more intimately,” the interviewer says, “Your entire relationship has been very secretive up until this point.”

“Well, this business can be quite cut-throat and there’s very little privacy, which we know is what we both signed up for when we first got into the industry,” Eddie begins, he’s unbelievably natural, he’s made for this — being a star, “The little things, well, we just wanted them to be between us.”

The interviewer nods.

“That’s a little lie, no?”

“What do you mean?” You ask as innocently as you possibly can, because even though you’ve shared a lot of stories today, you haven’t given the whole truth. That remains between you, the rockstar, and your Nana (God rest her soul).

She doesn’t push, quite unlike any other journalist that you have ever come across. Instead, she says how a photographer will be over tomorrow for the shoot and reconfirms that you’ll be the cover of the October issue. 

Eddie sees her out and when you’re alone, he asks if you’re happy that you two did this.

“Apprehensive, sure. But yes, happy.”

“Good.” He leans down to plant a kiss on your temple. “I’m happy too and the world deserves to know just how happy you make me,” he adds while trailing kisses along your cheekbones and down your jaw.

You smile. “I don’t think they should know that much.”

“No?” Eddie’s teasing.

“Some things are better kept private,” you murmur into his ear, “Like how you corrupted me at that pool party.”

“And I’ll continue corrupting you for as long as you’ll let me, sweetheart. Getting under your celebrity skin until the end of time. That’s a promise.”

celebrity skin. masterlist

thank you to all that have been following this story from the beginning and to everyone that has come along the way — i appreciate you more than words can say!

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @ohmeg , @hereforshmut , @eg-dr3amer3 , @rexorangecouny , @morganlolitta , @littlexdeaths , @bl0ssomanddie, @doritodynasty (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

[johnwickb1tsch]

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) + part 6

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Smut. Mourning. More smut. Forbidden romance. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... divider by saradika-graphics PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

And I, I come here to be what you need, so you can fly, so you can fly -Detune, Kaleida

PART 6.

You always thought the boxy behemoth of John and Helen’s house looked more like a museum than a home. The dramatic lighting in the landscaping out front reinforces this impression, though gliding into the garage where the Mustang gives one last dying rumble before John kills the ignition maybe contradicts this notion. 

You have the startling realization that you have never been here, without Helen.

You see no traces of her in the garage. Her Lexus is gone. A motorcycle is parked where her SUV used to be. You wonder if John cleaned out her other belongings inside. It’s none of your business, how he decided to handle the remnants of her things, but the thought makes your heart ache in your chest all the same. 

“Ready?” he asks quietly, perhaps sensing your inner turmoil as you sit dead still in the passenger seat for too long, paralyzed in your thoughts of your sister. 

Not sure if it’s true, you nod anyway, making to extricate yourself from the low-slung sports car. John removes your duffel from the trunk, slinging the strap of the bag over his shoulder. You’d thought it heavy, but he handles it like you’d packed nothing but a bag of feathers, and it’s possible you admire the view of his powerful form from behind as you follow him inside. 

A part of you still can’t believe you are doing this. 

Now that your thoughts are only partially clouded by lust, your inner voice of judgement is still yet undecided as to how much loathing you deserve for this escapade. The garage leads into a mudroom, then the kitchen. John tosses his keys into a wooden bowl and flips a light. The open plan of the house gives you a clear view across the dining area and the recessed living room, and something in your heart unclenches as you realize he has not changed a thing. 

All of Helen’s carefully curated curios and objet d’art remain in place, and it’s almost as though she’s still there, in a way. Your eyes fill with tears, and desperately you try to blink them away before John notices you’re having a mini-crisis over the sight of Helen’s coffee table books on modern architecture. 

You are saved by the sound of claws clicking on the tile floor. A handsome blue pitbull trots up to you, immediately leaning on your legs after a perfunctory sniff. “Oh. Who’s this?” you ask, leaning over to pet the friendly fellow. 

“That’s Dog,” John answers with the chagrined smile of a man who knows your next thought will be something along the lines of “You couldn’t be bothered to actually name your dog?”

In an attempt to be original, you let it go. “What a sweetie.” 

You wonder what changed Helen’s mind from her original plan. “I thought she was getting you a beagle for some reason,” you remark quietly as Dog licks your chin. You scratch him behind his ears and down his back, smiling as he wiggles blissfully under your longish nails. 

John sighs heavily in response. “Yeah.” You sense there’s a whole explanation behind that one word, and maybe you’d talked a tough game back in your apartment, but it’s late, and you’re tired, and you find you don’t have the mettle to pry any more explanations out of this man tonight. 

Especially not ones that seem like they’re going to hurt him.

You get the sense that John has endured a lot in his lifetime. The last thing you want is to cause him more pain. 

He weighs you with those soulful eyes, and you can’t help but feel like he’s reading a little too much between your lines. “I…can prepare the guest room for you, if you prefer?” 

You wonder if he senses your unease in this new and tricky situation–or if he’s the one changing his mind. 

“I’m not…sleeping with you?” you ask, trying and failing to hide your own disappointment at hearing this proffered out. 

“Only if you want to.” 

You find the last thing you want tonight, is to toss and turn with your thoughts of Helen, alone. 

You can still see the hint of lace of your panties peeking out from his breast pocket, and a part of you wishes he would just sling you over his shoulder and take you to bed. 

And take all the blame, you chide yourself. 

No. If you’re digging this hole…you’re doing it together. 

Maybe it’s not entirely fair, the way you close the space between you slowly, your heels clicking on the tile. “What do you want, John?” you ask gently, and you don’t mean to purr it so sweetly, but it just comes out of you when you’re with him. And maybe it’s also not fair, when your hands find his trim torso, sliding under the warmth of his suit jacket. You feel he is strung taut as tightrope beneath his fine clothes; yet the moment you touch him something seems to let go.  

His eyes slide closed, and he does not answer you with words, ducking to press his lips to yours. Whatever feelings of guilt had been stewing beneath your skin utterly evaporate, immolated by the fire this small gesture ignites within you again.

“Me too,” you admit against his pillow-soft lips, and you think his huff of self-deprecating laughter is nine tenths relief. 

“Come on.” He nuzzles your nose with his before turning to lead you upstairs. 

You realize you’ve been in his bedroom before–but again, only with Helen, as she shared some new pair of shoes or designer dress she’d bought, putting on a fashion show for you in the walk-in closet, usually before foisting “hand-me-downs” she'd never actually worn (and clearly bought with your taste in mind) upon you. 

It certainly feels different now, the neatly made bed glowing in the moonlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows. You know that they’re mirrored on the outside, but you still wonder how one goes about not feeling like they live in a fishbowl. You suppose you are unaccustomed to living in a house without close neighbors. It’s a luxury you could never afford in the city. 

John turns on a lamp, and sets your bag gingerly by the bed. “I’ll make room for you in the closet.” 

You’d barely packed enough to require it, but still you nod, touched by the thought because you never would have presumed to ask. “Tomorrow,” you say quietly, your hands finding their way under his jacket again, pushing it from his shoulders. You drape it carefully over the back of a nearby chair, certain it cost more than your rent.

He watches you with those soulful dark eyes, and you feel yourself melting all over again. He seems to enjoy your hands on his body as you slowly work on undressing him, loosening the knot of his tie, sliding the patterned silk from under his collar. You move on to his shining white gold cufflinks. “Pretty,” you compliment, working the toggles carefully. 

He hesitates a moment before admitting, “They were a gift.”

“I know. I helped Helen pick them out from Dunhill.”

He looks at you from beneath his lashes, the flash of sorrow in his dark eyes fathomless as the sea at night. He still hurts so much, and you understand. You feel it too.

“It’s ok,” you say, speaking to yourself as much as him. “We should say her name. We shouldn’t skirt around it. I want to remember her.” You don’t want her name to be taboo between you, even if what you are doing is more than a little fucked up. 

He closes his eyes, dipping his head in agreement. “Thank you.” You get the feeling he means for more than just helping your sister pick out an anniversary gift for him. You just nod, and he presses his forehead to yours. You stand like that for a long while, two people who are broken but maybe, just maybe, have found a bit of light in each other against the crushing gloom.

You fancy that you feel the exact moment, when John makes up his mind for certain about you. He gathers you to him with a new edge of desperation, grips your curves just this side of too hard, like you might slip away if he doesn’t hold on to you. His mouth slants over yours, and you take the onslaught of his passion gladly, holding him to you with arms around his neck as he devours you. The fine zipper down your spine proves no obstacle for his clever hands; your dress slides down your body, pooling around your ankles. 

The hunger in his expression as he looks down at you in just your strapless bra makes your legs weak–it doesn’t matter, because he holds you, and he’s not letting you go. His voice comes rough with the edge of desire: “Y/n…I know I don’t deserve you. But God do I want you.” He doesn't give you much of a chance to answer, manhandling you onto the bed like you weigh nothing, which isn’t the case at all.

You would have told him that you want him too, more than you've ever wanted anyone, but his mouth is on yours and you're happy to kiss him instead. His lean body presses you down deliciously into the soft mattress; you open eagerly, twining your legs with his, holding him to you. He's still completely clothed, and you make an attempt to undo some buttons, craving his bare skin on yours like air to breathe. The promise of his hard groin against yours makes your vision spin. 

“I’m sorry,” he growls, seemingly at your breasts as he moves down your body, his hot mouth searing trails of fire down your skin. Your brain function is not at its best at the moment–you’re not sure what he’s talking about at all, and he doesn’t expand on his point until his teeth are grazing the curve of your hip. 

“I haven’t…been with anyone…since Helen,” he explains, his voice rough with want. “I might be…a little rusty.”

You have to bite down on a laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s so endearing you could scream, and if this is John Wick when he feels like he’s not on his game…you don’t think you can handle this man at his best. 

“I don’t think you have to worry,” you sigh as he kisses the inside of your thigh, moaning as his soft lips travel higher. It’s almost embarrassing how wet he finds you, when he slips the tip of his thumb just past your weeping hole. The sound he makes is more animal than man as he falls to his knees at the edge of the bed, guiding your legs over his broad shoulders, and when his tongue touches your clit you see God. You cannot sit still but he holds you down with one big hand spanned across your belly, two of his fingers sliding inside you as he laves at your aching slit. 

“John,” you pant, your hands fisted in the bedspread out of desperation for something to hold on to, your back arched like a bow as he gives you this blissful pleasure between your thighs. “Please…” You can hardly think past his mouth upon you, your brain gone completely offline while in this man’s skillful hands. “Please, I want you inside me?” 

He growls against you, making your toes curl. You’re not sure if he’s arguing with you, or himself, but in the end he withdraws, wiping his mouth on the bedspread before standing between your legs. He towers over you from this vantage, and in a blissful stupor you watch him undo the buttons of his shirt with deft fingers. You find yourself holding your breath as he reaches the last one; a whine escapes you as he pauses in the unveiling. 

“Y/n…I have to warn you…I have scars.”

 He seems self-conscious about this, or maybe afraid of how you might react. You sit up, giving him your full attention.

“It’s ok.”

“I don’t…want to scare you.” 

You touch his hands on his shirt halves lightly; it’s possible you're trembling. “I watched you take out three guys tonight and stab one of them in the leg…and I’m still here.”  

He lets out a long, shaking sigh, nodding. “Yeah.” 

“I’m kind of figuring out that you’re a dangerous man. But I don’t feel like you would ever hurt me. Am I wrong?” 

“No,” he answers immediately. 

“Ok. Then take off your shirt, please,” you say with a hint of insouciance you hope will break his hesitance, your lips curving in a smirk. You unclip your bra in a gesture of solidarity, tossing it to the foot of the bed. 

He looks down at your bare form with a tenderness in his eyes that warms you all over. Are you allowed to look at each other like that yet? Like you are something precious to behold? There are unofficial rules against this, but you feel yourself doing exactly the same. You feel yourself falling, hard, and you don't have the sense tonight to catch yourself before you hit rock bottom. 

“Cheeky girl,” he chides you gently, and you can see your ploy succeeded in nudging him out of his cycle of self doubt, at least for now. 

“You want me to be quiet, John?” you tease him further, reaching for his belt. “Give me something to put in my mouth.”

He makes a sound low in his throat that makes you think of predatory animals that stalk the deep dark forest at night. For a moment you get an inkling of the beast that lurks beneath this man's skin as he pushes you back down on the bed with a hand that engulfs the base of your throat, his gaze sharpening upon you in a way that sends a wave of gooseflesh rolling across your skin, your nipples tightening painfully. He kisses you, hard, and once more you forget everything due to this man's mouth upon you. 

Through half closed lids you watch him shrug out of his shirt, tossing it in the general direction of the chair. He was not joking about the scars; your eyes sweep over his torso, your lips parted with awe, your thighs pressed in an unconscious effort to relieve some of the exquisite ache inspired by seeing him like this, a god of war finally bared before you. 

You inventory the evidence of past altercations. Cuts large and small, and puckered round rosettes of flesh you can only assume must have been bullet wounds. This man has endured so much, and your heart aches for him, even as you know he must have given just as good as he got. 

You fixate on a long, thick scar that leads down the center of his abdomen, disappearing into his waistband; the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

He's beautiful, scars and all. Maybe more so, because of them. This man has been to hell and back– and now he's chosen to be here, in this precious moment, with you. Your fingertips itch to reach for him, to trace his contours and hollows and the evidence written on his skin that he's cheated death more than once. But he seemed to want you where he put you, and so you wait, trembling inside like a blossom waiting for the kiss of the dawn to open.

You watch as he divests himself of the gun again, tucking it into the drawer of the nightstand. You see him eyeing the lamp, considering plunging the room into darkness again, and you click your tongue in warning. “You're not shy, are you John?”

He narrows his eyes at you, though he smiles like he enjoys your teasing. “You’re not going to let me get away with anything, are you?”

“I think you're beautiful, and I want to see you while you fuck me.” Again, there's a flash of that predatory look behind his eyes, a leviathan surfaced from the depths, there and gone. It’s possible that you squirm a little, when he fixes you with that sharp black gaze, and you don't notice for a good long moment when he's finally taken off his pants, because you can't stop looking at his eyes. 

“I think you’re beautiful too,” he tells you, and finally he is crawling towards you, and you can run your hands over the expanses of his powerful physique. The curves of his biceps and the plane of his chest. The ladder of his ribs and his trim waist, and the velvety hard length of his manhood filling your hand. He groans into the bend of your neck as you stroke him, guiding him where you need him most between your legs.

“I want you so much, John. I need you.”

He pulls back to look at you with the expression of a drowning man. You think you’re beginning to understand him better. That the thing he wants most deep down is to be wanted, and that maybe it surprises him, that you do. It breaks your heart a little, that he’s so taken aback by that, like he can’t quite allow himself to believe it. 

He’d said he hadn’t had a happy life before Helen. You wonder what exactly that entailed. All this flashes through your mind in a millisecond before you guide him to your entrance, teasing yourself with his tip slicked delectably with your own juices. You should take a moment to grab a condom, new partner and all, but you’re on birth control, and you simply do not have the willpower to leave his arms.

He lowers himself so that he is pressing you down into the soft mattress with his body and his mouth on yours. He rolls his hips, his thick cock gliding against your folds torturously. You throw your head back, keening with need, the muscles of your pussy cramped so tightly with desire that it hurts. “Please? I’m so empty without you.”

Maybe he senses the truth in your plea. It is the thing that breaks him, unable to tease you anymore. You groan as his thick head pushes past your entrance, just a taste but god it feels like heaven. He buries his face in your neck as he thrusts, little by little until he is fully sheathed inside you. 

“So fucking good,” he groans into your hair, and you hold him against you, your nails digging into his back as you hook your leg on his hip, pulling him deeper. “My good girl, taking me so well.” He rocks against you, rubbing your clit with his pubic bone as he fills you better than anyone ever has, and you are already on the edge of climax, your pussy fluttering around his length. You squeeze him inside you, winning a moan that feels like you've won a prize.

He fills you like he was made for you, and you are lost. Lost in the sensation of him inside you, engulfing you–you’ve never felt so claimed, nor, you reckon, have you ever submitted to a man so gladly. 

“You going to cum for me, y/n?” With his thumb on your clit as he thrusts, hitting that perfect spot inside you, it feels more like a demand than a request, or maybe just a sure prediction. 

“Yes. Fuck. John…” 

You lose the faculty for higher language as your second orgasm of the night crashes through you, ecstasy ripping up your spine like a tidal wave. Maybe because it’s been a while like he said, or just maybe because he’s that into you, John loses it too as he feels the clench of your greedy little cunt milking him, thrusting deep inside you as he fills you with the hot flood of his release. 

Maybe it should scare you, that you’ve never connected so perfectly with another man–but all you can manage in this moment is to hold him to you like you have no intention of ever letting him go. It feels like a long time before he rises from what the French call the little death, and how true it is. How is it possible to feel so exhausted, yet born anew? 

Words seem to escape him as much as you; instead he kisses you, a long and languorous lock of lips that curls your toes all over again, your pussy clenching in answer around his still semi-hard manhood inside you. It wins you another groan that makes you chuckle against his lips. 

The first thing he says to you after this complete mutual ruin is: “Imp,” and all you can do in answer is grin against his mouth triumphantly.

He’s not wrong. 

The two of you barely manage to clean yourselves up before you are snuggling down into the covers together, falling into a deep sleep. Maybe it’s foolish of you, but tangled up tightly in John Wick’s strong arms–you feel as though nothing can hurt you. 

[virescent-v]

Reader gets pregnant but baby’s father isn’t the picture and Emily’s helping and supporting reader through out the pregnancy?

Oh Baby

Summary: A glimpse of your pregnancy, with the help of Emily.

A/n: Sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: none, this is all fluff! dont come for me about the name i couldnt think of anything else hehehe

Word count: 2.7K

You called her the second you realized your period was four weeks late. To be fair, you’ve never really had normal periods, so you hadn’t noticed at first. 

She showed up at your door, bag from CVS in hand. She didn’t say anything, just took your hand and led you to the bathroom, thrusting the pregnancy test (or five) in your hands before closing the door. 

You opened all of the boxes, followed the directions, and opened the door. 

She was patiently waiting on the other side, arms across her chest, chewing on her lower lip. 

“We’ll deal with whatever it says, however you want.” 

You could feel your eyes starting to tear up, your lower lip wobbling with the influx of emotion. 

Emily just held her arms out and you made your way to her, letting her gather you up in a forceful hug, as if she knew she was the only thing keeping you together right now. She rubbed soothing circles on your back, letting you take the time you needed. 

As you pulled away from her, she pushed your hair from your face. “You ready?” 

You managed a meek, “As I’ll ever be,” before leading her by the hand into the bathroom. You slid one of the tests over to her, grabbing a different one in your free hand. “Together?” 

Emily smiled a little at you, “Together.” 

You each flipped over the tests. 

***

She took off work for the first appointment, told her team to not call her under any circumstances until the appointment was over. She made sure to pick you up, drive you, and she even filled out the paperwork for you because your hands were too sweaty to hold the pen. 

When the nurse called you back, you made sure to grab Emily’s hand, dragging her along with you. She sat on the stool right next to the exam table, holding your hand the entire time. 

As the doctor put the ultrasound jelly on your stomach, you felt Emily lean a little closer to you, trying to see the monitor better even though she had no idea what she was looking at. 

A small little sac with an even smaller blob in the middle of it. 

A baby. 

You heard Emily take in a little breath, her hand squeezing yours a little tighter. You made eye contact with her, smiling at the barely hidden joy on her face. Emily’s always been really great with kids and you knew that she was going to be amazing with your little one. 

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?” The doctor asked. 

You glanced quickly at Emily, a resounding ‘yes’ leaving your lips. A flick of the machine, a quick readjusting of the machine, and soon enough there was a rapid, static-like pulse emanating from the speakers. 

“Everything with the baby looks great,” the doctor said. “Do you want some printouts of the ultrasound?” 

“Absolutely,” you said. 

As you sat in the car on the way back to your apartment, you were looking at the ultrasound, each of the six frames looking like the same blob to you. With a quick decision, you tore it in half, leaving three frames on each side. 

When Emily parked, you handed her one half. “For you.” 

You watched as she reverently held the pictures, her finger rubbing gently across the middle frame. “I can’t wait to meet them,” she whispered. 

You smiled. You couldn’t wait for her to meet them either. 

*** 

At this point, you were well acquainted with the inside of your toilet bowl. The morning sickness had hit you swift and hard and out of nowhere. 

You were hardly able to keep food down, the smells of most things sending you running for the toilet. Your cravings hit you just as swift, but changed quicker than you could accommodate them. 

Thankfully, your boss let you work from home most of the week. You couldn’t imagine having to deal with this while in the office. 

Emily made sure to text you consistently every day, as much as her work day would allow for it. Currently, she was out of state, dealing with some psycho in Florida (go figure). 

Emily: How’s today? Still puking your guts up? 

You: Tell your soon to be bestie to calm down! Their mother actually needs to work to be able to afford them and she can’t when she’s constantly staring at the inside of her toilet. 

Emily: Put your phone up to your belly. 

Emily: Hi, little one! Auntie Em here. RELAX. Your mom is throwing a fit and needs to work! 

You: You’re insane. 

You: Thank you. 

Emily: 🙂Did it work? 

You: Ugh, yes, sort of. I’m drinking some water and ginger ale and munching on some crackers. 

Emily: I should be back tonight. Dinner? 

You: Yes, I miss you! We can decide when you get here? 

Emily: See you two soon! 

*** 

Second trimester brought nothing but constant weird cravings. Your pantry and fridge were overflowing with foods you’d probably never eat because it sounded good one second, but you ended up being disgusted by it the next. 

It was around midnight on a random Wednesday when you woke up starving and craving mint chocolate chip icecream and pickles. You padded your way down to your kitchen, tying the tie of your robe around you, before frowning at the lack of both in your refrigerator. 

Chewing on your thumb nail, blankly staring at the light emanating from within your fridge, you heard your phone buzz on the counter behind you. Sighing, closing the door dejectedly, you snatched your phone up, smiling at the text from Emily. 

Emily: I just got back from the case in Wisconsin. You up? 

You: I am. Cravings hit hard for choco chip mint icecream and pickles and I have neither. I might go to the store. :( 

Emily: Absolutely not. I’ll grab it and be right over. Your place is closer than mine and I’m beat. 

You shook your head, not arguing with her. Emily has been a lifesaver during your pregnancy, helping you as much as she can. She’s taken you to most of your appointments, helped you shop for (and build) some nursery furniture, and she’s bought the baby more clothes and toys than you have. 

The opening of your front door jolted you from your thoughts. 

“I come bearing gifts!” Emily said, walking into the low lit kitchen with a few bags. 

You stared incredulously, “Em! I wanted icecream and pickles! What is all of this?” 

She shrugged her shoulders. “I was hungry, too. And everything just looked so good. So I bought it,” she said, as she slid your icecream and pickles across the counter before emptying the bags. 

You rolled your eyes. You were going to have so much food go bad on you. Opening both the chocolate mint icecream and pickles, you smiled, a happy little dance making your body wiggle. 

Emily grabbed her own icecream, coming back to the island with two bowls and spoons. However, she watched in horror as you took one of the dill pickles and dipped it into the icecream and scooped some of it before shoving both in your mouth. 

You hummed happily, the saltiness of the pickle and the sweetness of the icecream hitting your craving exactly how you imagined it would. 

Glancing up, you almost choked and laughed at the look on Emily’s face. “Don’t say anything. Baby is wreaking havoc on my taste buds. Talk to them about it when they’re older. It’s their fault.” 

Emily furiously blinked a few times before taking a deep breath and ignoring the teasing remark she had. 

As she opened her chocolate icecream, you shrieked, covering your full mouth before rushing around the counter towards Emily. 

“What?! What’s wrong?” She said, throwing her spoon down, thinking something was wrong. 

You continued chewing, shaking your head, grabbing her hand and placing it on your stomach. 

Emily’s eyes caught yours as she felt the baby move and kick. “Is that…?” 

“Mhm,” you said, tears gathering in your eyes. 

Emily knelt down to the ground, her face inches from your stomach. She was gazing at it with awe, rubbing small circles over the spot the baby had just kicked. “Hi, baby. I can’t wait to meet you,” she whispered. 

At this moment, you’ve never been happier. 

*** 

The third trimester flew by. The nursery was done, with the help of Emily and her coworkers. How she managed to get Derek, Rossi, and Hotch to paint the nursery and build the rest of the furniture in one day you will never know, but you were incredibly thankful. It was one less thing you had to worry about. 

You had a hospital bag packed and ready in your car because the baby could come at any moment. 

Sniffling, you were trying to hide your disappointment as you talked to Emily on the phone. “It’s okay, Em. Work is important. Go. We’ll be here when you get back. They just might be outside of me when you do,” you wetly chuckled. You were hoping she could be there when the baby was born, but you understood her job sporadically called her away. 

There was a long pause. “You and this baby are more important than any job I’ll ever have. Do you understand that?” 

You took a deep breath in, catching the undertone of what she was saying. 

You and Emily had been toeing around each other for the past few weeks. Every moment felt charged and on the precipice of something more. Neither one of you ever brought it up, just allowed it to happen. You knew you were close to finally admitting to each other how you felt, but something was holding both of you back. 

“I know,” you whispered. 

Another long, tense silence. 

A deep sigh. “Try to keep them in there until I get back, okay?” 

“You got it, boss,” you said, still trying to hold back all of the emotions bubbling up inside you. “Stay safe and come home to us.”

You heard Emily suck in a breath. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.” 

There was a click from her hanging up, and you rubbed your belly absentmindedly. Home. Emily was home. 

***

Your relationship with Emily came to head one scary night when you thought you were going into early labor. The contractions felt real – real for someone who has never felt real contractions before. 

Emily came over, rushed you to the hospital, and stuck with you the whole night just for the doctor to tell you it was false labor and to take it easy over the next few weeks until the baby finally made their appearance. 

She took you back home, well after midnight, both of you exhausted from the whole ordeal. You both settled into your bed, still a little hyped up from the adrenaline of a possible delivery. 

“I was a little scared, but also excited to meet them,” Emily whispered in the dark of your room. 

“Me, too. It’s still too early for them. They need to cook a little longer,” you giggled. 

You felt the bed shake slightly from Emily’s muffled laughter. “Don’t talk about my bestie like that! They aren’t a chicken that needs more time in the oven!” 

You laughed loudly. “I know they’re not a chicken, Em! They’re our kid, so I get it that they’re impatient, but they need to walk until it’s safe to come out!” 

It took you a few seconds to realize what you said. There was a tense silence from the other side of the bed. “Our kid?” 

You licked your lips, your hands fiddling on your stomach. Clearing your throat a bit, you sighed. “Yes, okay, our kid, Emily. You’ve been here since the beginning. And we both know our relationship has changed, is changing.” You turned your head, trying to seek her eyes out in the dark. “I’m tired of not admitting how I know we both feel.” 

You turned over, your enlarged stomach making it a bit of a harder task than normal. “You were here when I took the test, you take me to most of my appointments, you’ve built the nursery. Hell, Em, I’ve caught you talking to them when you think I’m asleep about all of the things you’re going to teach them, how you’re going to protect them, and threaten any future boyfriends or girlfriends!” 

You scooched closer to her, your hand coming up to play with her hair. You were pretty sure her eyes were shining with tears, but with how dark it was in the room, you couldn’t be sure. “I love you, Emily Prentiss. Wanna raise a baby with me?” 

Emily sniffled and laughed loudly, her voice gravelly from all of the different emotions the night was causing her. She brought her face closer to yours, rubbing her nose gently across yours. Another quiet sniffle. Her lips briefly met yours. “I love you, too. Let's raise a baby.” 

*** 

Frantically, you tried to put on fresh clothes. The maternity jeans you were wearing having been soaked because your water finally broke. 

Shoving your shoes into some sandals, not caring if it looked silly with socks, you shakily pressed familiar numbers on your phone, waiting for her to pick up. 

On the second ring, a rushed, “Hey, what’s up?”  

“Em,” you panted, rushing down the steps. “It’s time.” 

“What?” There was a second pause. “OH. Okay, okay. Stay there, I’m coming to get you.” 

“Okay, please hurry. These contractions are no joke,” you tried to laugh as another one took over. Through gritted teeth you mumbled, “Use the sirens.” 

Emily was at your place in less than ten minutes, lights flashing. You were at the nearby hospital in less than twenty, the contractions coming every couple of minutes. 

Emily helped walk you inside and get you checked in. In a flurry of minutes, you were undressed, in a hospital gown, and in your own room. 

As you were being assessed, Emily had stepped out of the room to make all of the calls to let your family and her team know what was happening. 

“Alright,” the doctor said. “Baby should be making their way into the world shortly. For now, we’re going to monitor both you and baby and get everything prepped.” 

Another, stronger wave of contractions hit as Emily came back into the room. She immediately rushed over, grabbing your hand and letting you squeeze the shit out of it. 

Over the next few hours, Emily stayed by your side, only leaving to get cold washcloths to wipe the sweat from your face, or to update everyone. 

With the contractions coming closer and closer apart, the doctor came in, gowned up. “Alright, mom. It’s time! Let’s meet this baby!” 

Emily got closer to you, continuing to hold your hand, her other brushing your hair out of your face. “You’ve got this, I’m right here.” 

You took a deep breath, gritted your teeth, and started pushing. 

*** 

What felt like hours later, many pushes, and a few inventive curses, an abrupt cry filled the delivery room. 

“Congrats, moms! It’s a girl!” 

You and Emily caught each other's eyes, not daring to correct the doctor. As the baby was checked, Emily wiped the sweat from your face, admiration shining in her eyes. “You did it. She’s here. I’m so proud of you.” 

A nurse brought over the clean little blanketed baby, smiling as she handed her to you. “What’s her name?” 

As you gazed down at the round, cute face of your newborn, you took a deep breath as her name came to you. You rubbed your finger across her chubby little cheek, getting a little misty eyed. 

You looked up at Emily, watching as her eyes held so much love for your daughter, for you. Your little family. 

“Charlotte Emilia. We’re hyphenating her last name.” 

Emily’s eyes widened a little. She swallowed a little thickly before whispering, “You sure?” 

You took her hand in yours, smiling at her. “I can’t imagine naming her after anyone else. She’s just as much yours as she is mine, Em.” 

You brought your hand up, wiping an errant tear from Emily’s cheek. Rubbing the skin there, you smiled brightly. You trailed your hand behind her neck, dragging her face towards you. “I love my family, Em,” you said, before kissing her. “Wanna hold your daughter?” 

Emily’s smile was the brightest thing you’ve ever seen. 

[greengoblinswifey]

Routine—Dr. Charlie Mayhew x Fem!Reader

summary— Dr. Mayhew invites you after hours for a ‘routine check up.’ Based on this request.

warnings— abuse of power, anal fingering, face fucking, praise kink, degradation, face slapping, tit slapping, choking, objectification, hair pulling, sir kink, spitting, anal, unprotected sex, ass to mouth, breeding kink, creampie.

a/n— i feel like i’ve been gone so long but i’m back now <3(though it’s lowkey hard to write with long nails)

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

It was late, the air unusually quiet except for the low hum of fluorescent lights. You weren’t sure why you’d agreed to come back after hours for your follow up. Dr. Mayhew’s cryptic suggestion earlier in the day had been impossible to shake: “Come back tonight when it’s quiet. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

Something in his tone had made your pulse quicken, his usual professional demeanor cracking just enough to reveal something darker. You told yourself it was all in your head, but now, standing in the dimly lit exam room, you couldn’t ignore the tension crackling between you.

Dr. Mayhew entered, his white coat unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. His dark eyes raked over you, lingering just a moment too long. “Still here, I see,” he said, closing the door behind him with a deliberate click. “Good girl.”

The session started—a few questions, a brief examination. But as his hands lingered, brushing against your skin under the guise of professionalism, the air grew heavy with something unspoken. He leaned in close, his voice low, almost a growl. “You’ve been testing my patience all day.”

Dr. Mayhew adjusted his gloves, his gaze piercing but tinged with something else, something darker. His lips curved into a slight smirk as he approached you, tilting his head. “I need to perform a full examination,” he murmured, his tone smooth but commanding. “Let’s start with your chest.”

You hesitated, but the intensity in his stare rooted you to the spot. His hands moved deliberately, sliding over your shoulders before trailing down to rest just below your collarbone. “Relax,” he said, voice low and firm. “This is all part of the process.”

He cupped your boobs, the touch firm under the guise of a medical examination. His fingers lingered, pressing in ways that made you swallow hard. “You’re tense,” he muttered, almost to himself, his thumbs brushing suggestively. “Maybe I should take my time here.”

Your breath hitched, but his movements never faltered. “Don’t act so shy now,” he said, leaning in so his breath ghosted over your ear. “You knew exactly what you were coming back for.”

He firmly massaged your boobs, his gaze sharp as he did. He directed you to turn around, his voice clipped and commanding. “Bend over the table,” he said, gesturing to the edge of the examination bed.

You hesitated, unsure of his intentions. “W-why are you doing this?” you asked, trying to steady your breath.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he rested a firm hand at the base of your spine, encouraging compliance. His other hand moved with practiced authority, adjusting your position so that you could arch better. “I’m the doctor here,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “And I know what’s best for you. Trust me.”

Your heart raced as he began his inspection, his hands firm and meticulous as he groped your ass. He tugged lightly on your hair, tilting your head to the side. “Keep still,” he instructed, the subtle pull sending a shock of awareness through you. “I need you to behave.”

A gasp left your lips as he tore the shorts under your tights, the cool air making your bare pussy quiver.

“D-doctor—” you groaned, but he cut you off sharply.

“Don’t speak, this is routine. I need to make sure everything is fine with every part of you,” he growled.

Another gasp left your lips as you felt the unmistakable feeling of a finger circling the hole no one had ever been in. The hole no one should be in—yet the pure taboo of it had you biting your lip and arching your back deeper.

“No hemorrhoids, virgin ass, so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, his voice low.

You bit down on your lip harder, groaning as you felt a finger push inside you.

“Shh, just let me do this,” he cooed.

Your doctor knew best, didn’t he? Though, alarm bells were ringing in your head.

You clamped around his finger and he let it settle, curving and slowly moving it around so he could wiggle his way inside you.

“Such a tight virgin ass,” he murmured.

Just as you were starting to feel pleasure, he removed his finger. You let out a sigh of relief but your breath caught again as you heard the sound of a belt buckle clinking. Turning around, his pants were pooled at his feet with the thickest cock you had ever seen.

You were about to say something when he grabbed your curls, turning your body around.

“Need to make sure that throat is able to be used for what it’s made for,” he murmured.

He shoved his swollen cock into your mouth before you could even think about what to do. It immediately hit the back of your throat and he kept it settled until you were gasping for air before he pulled out.

You gasped as you tried to get air but he began pushing your face into his crotch leaving you no choice but to accept his length back into your mouth.

“Learn how to suck cock like you were made for you dumb slut, take it all the way in!” he growled, tightening his grip in your curls and thrusting harshly as he proceeded to fuck your mouth even more vigorously than before.

A sick and twisted part of you just wanted to show him how good you were at this. So, your tongue darted out, trailing along his shaft and getting it sloppy.

“Fuck, that’s it, slut,” he moaned.

You hummed around his cock and continued, gliding your tongue along him as he fucked your throat. Your hands went to his heavy balls, massaging as you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, trying your best not to gag.

“You’re such a good cock sucking whore, m’ gonna cum down that throat,” he gasped, his pace faltering but still just as brutal.

Suckling on the bulbous tip, you stroked his shaft and felt his cum spurt into your mouth. He thrusted into your throat again, holding you down as he came down your throat, your nose touching his pelvis.

“That’s a good whore, don’t let a drop go to waste,” he cooed.

Once again, not missing a beat, he grabbed you by your curls, shoving you flat onto the table. “Now, I’m gonna put my cock inside that pussy, just because I can,” he whispered, “and you’re going to take every single inch like the good little whore you are.”

You didn’t bother protesting, you knew your protests would fall on deaf ears and so, you allowed him to spread your legs.

“You’re so wet, your pussy’s working just fine,” he smirked, using the head of his cock to drag along your folds.

You whined shamelessly, the throbbing in your clit growing unbearable.

“No whines, only begging, and call me sir while you’re at it,” he demanded.

Something came over you—or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

“Please sir, just put it in, please fuck me,” you pleaded, your pussy getting wetter as you uttered each word.

A sharp smack against your cheek made you whine again. “You can do better than that, slut.”

“Please fuck me sir, I need your cock, I’ve never needed anything more, just please fuck me, fuck me like a slut,” you begged.

Satisfied by your begging, he grabbed you by the throat, thrusting inside your wet pussy giving you no time to adjust.

“So tight, like your pussy was made for my cock,” he murmured.

His grip around your throat tightened as he slammed into you, hard, your tits bouncing. His other hand came down on your tits, slapping them before a sharp smack was placed on your cheek, making you moan.

“Oh, you like that? You like being treated like just an object for me to use? Good, because that’s all you are to me,” Dr. Mayhew said.

Your pussy fluttered at his words, his cock pounding against your g spot repeatedly and you could feel a strong orgasm building. He leaned down, using his free hand to force your jaw open before spitting into it.

“Swallow, and soon as you do, cum on my cock, slut,” he muttered.

You swallowed his spit on your tongue and drenched him, your back arching off the table as your orgasm took ahold of you. As you squirted on his cock, your entire body shivered, his cock pounding your pussy through your orgasm.

“That’s it, what a good slut, this is all you’re good for, being an object for me to use,” he said, “now get on your hands and knees and spread that ass.”

By then you had accepted your fate, being nothing more than just a fuck toy for Dr. Mayhew. Why else would you have come back so late? You complied, arching your back as you did and spreading your ass to him.

He felt slick fingers rubbing your pussy then trailing back to your hole. A gasp left your lips as you felt two fingers plunge into you, the burning stretch leaving you aching.

“You’re going to wish it was my fingers fucking that ass,” he chuckled.

You realized what he meant, feeling the leaking tip of his cock bore into you. Still, you kept your ass spread open for him, allowing him to push deeper inside you.

“Fucking hell, so tight for me,” he groaned, finally able to fit half of his length inside.

He grabbed your hands, pinning them behind you and holding on as he fucked your ass. His thrusts were steady and deep, invading a hole that had never been used before.

“S-slow down,” you pleaded.

“You don’t tell me what to do, bitch, I do what I want to you and you take it like a good fucking slut who’s nothing more than an object for me to use. Objects shut the fuck up,” he retorted.

A sob left your lips but your body betrayed you as your ass clamped around his cock and your pussy clenched around nothing at his filthy words.

He took the opportunity to let go of your hands, reaching to rub your clit as he felt the impending orgasm.

“Stop acting like you aren’t enjoying this and fucking cum for me,” he said, “cum with my cock in your ass.”

He rubbed rough circles on your clit, his cock slamming inside your hole and you felt yourself squirt on his fingers, your body once again betraying you.

“Good girl, that’s what objects do, they listen.”

He pulled his thick cock out of your ass leaving you agape before grabbing your by your curls to face it.

“Clean my cock so I can fuck that pussy again,” he demanded.

Staring up at him, you took him into your mouth, sucking and slurping until every part of him was covered in your saliva. When he was satisfied with your work, he pulled you off him, a trail of spit connecting you with the tip.

“So beautiful when you’re ruined like this,” you heard him mutter.

He pushed you onto your back, his cock plunging into you as he chased his own orgasm.

“Look at me bitch, I want you to look at me when I cum inside this pussy and breed you.”

You stared into his brown eyes, his cock slamming against your cervix before you felt his hot load fill you up. He moaned as you clenched around him, practically milking him of all he had.

“Good girl, take my cum,” he praised.

As soon as he was satisfied, he pulled out of you, his cum slowly oozing from your pussy. He took a few wipes from a cabinet, carefully cleaning you up before his eyes met yours.

“Same time, tomorrow.”

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Protect and Serve (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Protect and Serve

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

GothCon is finally here! Will Y/n have a fun and fantastic time or will her lifelong dream be shattered by her past?

author's note:

The wait is over!!! For four long months I left my loves hanging, well no longer! Chaos is back in business and I give you another pivotal dream turned into a chapter. Buckle up loves. We’re nearing the end.

Let me know if you wish to be added to the official His Lighthouse taglist! Be alerted with any oneshots and the main story updates! 🖤✨

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

The dark gloomy skyline of Gotham was dramatically highlighted by a heavy downpour of rain. Longtime residents weren’t phased by the constant shower and Cindy was no different.  

She walked into a local restaurant, shaking out her umbrella before setting it into a cubby. This place would not have been her first choice, but Barbara insisted the menu was worth the long commute. Either way, Cindy pulled her gloves off as she reached the table. 

The young lady sitting in a decked-out wheelchair was too engrossed on her phone to notice the businesswoman waiting to be acknowledged. “Barbara.” Cindy’s long nails tapped twice on the table surface, finally getting the woman’s attention. 

She locked her phone and looked up, “Hey! You made it!”  

Cindy hummed and sat down opposite of Barbara. A waiter came over to place a drink order and offer an appetizer. 

With the order set, Cindy enlaced her fingers together. “Now, let’s get to the matter at hand. Wait, where’s Morgana?” She noticed there were four chairs at this table and two were empty.  

“She’s running a bit late, something about a high priority client requesting her last minute. Did you message Florence?” Barbara asked from across the table.  

Cindy rolled her light brown eyes and brushed off the question. Not like she cared that much for the loud beautician anyway. “She didn’t reply when I messaged her. I’m assuming she’s still giving us all the silent treatment. Whatever for.” 

Barbara however was more concerned. “Has anyone heard from her since the whole fiasco at Y/n’s?” 

It seemed like ages ago when barely two weeks had passed since your family dinner turned into a disaster.  

Florence stormed out of your apartment and effectively put the girls on silent treatment. A few days of no contact was normal after a misunderstanding like this, but Florence was being petty now. A mess was an understatement to describe it all, although it was the least of Cindy’s worries.  

“No, and I do not care about Florence and her attitude. My focus is on Y/n. My publishing partner hid his past sexual harassment charges from me and the board. I found him in my office with Y/n and...” 

“He did WHAT?!” Barbara half whispered screamed. Her green eyes were wider than the saucers on the table.  

Cindy sighed, “Y/n won’t talk about it, she just avoids the situation with the excuse of GothCon preparations being more important. That’s why I called you. I thought you would know more information being closer to her and all.”  

“I’m no help. These days..” Barbara looked at the rain running down the windows, “None of us are close with Y/n. It's like we barely know her at all.” 

Cindy arched an eyebrow at the ominous words. “Why does it feel like I’m out of the loop? Just because I work all the time doesn’t mean I’m not a part of the girl boss square circle!” 

It was Barbara’s turn to be confused. “Wait, she didn’t tell you? I assumed since you knew Y/n from Blüdhaven and all, that you knew already.” 

“Can you stop avoiding the fact and tell me?” 

“It’s not my place to say.” Barb wavered, but Cindy was quick to dispel the feeling. “How bad can it be?” She countered.  

Barbara winced and started typing in her notes app what she was too afraid to say aloud. Once she was done, she slid the device across the table for Cindy to read.  

Her face was a slab of stone as she read the horrors on the digital screen. Nothing could have prepared her for this.  

Cindy cleared her throat as she passed the phone back. She blinked up at the ceiling to conceal the tears that threatened to escape.  

“Everything makes sense now.” She fiddled with her earrings when the waiter arrived with appetizers and kind smiles.  

Nothing was said as they set plates and cutlery down onto the table. “Did anyone know about this?” Cindy hissed once they were out of earshot. 

“Uh no? We recently learned about it at Y/n’s dinner party. Flo sorta kinda kickstarted the panic attack that revealed it. Y/n’s parents told me, Morgana, Dick, and Bruce.” Barbara pushed her food around on the plate as silence fell over the table.  

Cindy was the one to break it.  

“I remember Y/n having some type of accident several months before she moved to Gotham. It halted her onboarding process, but she never mentioned anything about it afterwards. She just jumped right into writing and releasing books. She was like a machine, you know? I thought it was jitters of being a new author wanting to prove herself. I did not know about..”  

Cindy pushed her plate away, suddenly not hungry. “I’m her manager, I should have noticed that something was wrong!”  

Barbara couldn’t blame her Cindy for reacting in such a way.  

None of your friends noticed anything either. Your aversions, the incessant need for privacy. They were oblivious to it all. You only wanted peace and quiet and they hounded you relentlessly, treating you more like a child than a friend.  

Now was not the time to be moping around about the past. It was time to act before you spiraled into a hole no one would be able to dig you out of.  

You were already a trigger away from snapping.  

Cindy must’ve read Barb’s thoughts. “GothCon starts next week. I can only image how overwhelmed Y/n already is on top of preparations.” 

“So, what do we do?” Barbara asked.  

She didn’t want to add more unnecessary stress to your plate, but at this point, some friendly interference could help you in the long run. You could use an intervention, therapy even! Or was it the right thing to honor your wishes and let you suffer in silence?  

By the time the two women came to a decision, it was already too late to act.  

It was finally here. One of your lifelong goals as a writer.  

Gotham Con was an esteemed event for any content creator. One week filled with their work being celebrated and on display surrounded by likeminded individuals. You planned this event for months (honestly, years) and now the week before the huge event had arrived.  

With the constant online notifications from excited fans to organizers sending you confirmation emails and last-minute preparation checklists—you were quite literally, losing it. 

And Joker had a front row seat to the impending panic attack. You were neck deep in your computer, fingers typing away at the speed of sound, and you hardly took the time to eat or take any breaks in between prep work. 

Joker was reminded of the first week he invaded your life. You had the same mindset; nothing but work on the brain. Somehow you forgot a wanted fugitive was in your home then and ironically, now.  

He missed those days when it was just you and him cooped up indoors.  

No distractions. No drama.  

Today was the opposite. You were on a conference call with who knows who discussing something that went over his head. He could appreciate the entire event better after catching a glimpse of the behind-the-scenes effort needed to make it all happen.  

“No. No, I requested an hour presentation months ago..” You dug through a folder with papers until one held the info you needed. “Ma’am, I think I have higher priority over a completed web series. Let’s be real.” 

Joker sat back on the couch to watch his Bunny stand up for herself.  

He enjoyed your stubborn pouts when the person on the phone said something stupid. He treated the ordeal as if it were a blockbuster movie and not your carefully thought-out plans unraveling at the seams. He understood firsthand how it felt, however; you managed to always turn things around.  

You made arguing with someone on the phone entertaining, or rather J was just infatuated with you. He secretly loved when you were angry, just not at him.  

You were a pretty thing regardless of your mood.  

Times like this, Joker was reminded of just how lucky he was to have met you. How did he survive for so long without your light in his life? He didn’t, that’s how.  

He was still daydreaming when you ended the call and let out a deep spiritual sigh. You wanted to count to ten and scream at number four.  

Then you spotted your lover staring at you with that dopey look you had grown to love. You wished you could reciprocate that feeling. Hopefully Joker knew how much you cared about him without saying those magical three words.  

For now, you could give him an excuse for ruining his cuddle time.  

“Sorry, the event manager couldn't find my invoice and threatened to take me off the schedule—a week before the con! I feel like everything is going wrong for no reason.” you sighed.  

You groaned all way over to Joker’s lap where he yanked you down to restore your previous seat.  

The giant tv on the wall was muted with the picture still going. Neither of you could remember what y’all were watching before being interrupted.  

Joker could care less. You weren’t paying it any attention anyways and Joker was thankful since his most recent misdeed was currently being broadcasted on the breaking news.  

His goons were swift with their security reports. You had another episode at your publisher’s office and a certain Thomas J. Ford was the trigger. Joker didn’t need to know the details. In fact, all J knew was that you came home with dried tears on your face and way too quiet to be considered fine.  

He got you cleaned up, fed, and tucked into bed before he did what he did best.  

Create chaos.  

And now the news was airing the fool’s unfortunate ‘car crash’ that led to his death.  

Joker snorted. The fire would erase all the torture he inflicted on the man who dared to make his Goddess cry. Joker took pleasure hearing every cry of pain that Thomas created. He squealed like a pig the second Joker mentioned your name.  

‘I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear! I’m so sorry.’ 

It was too late for apologizes. Joker knew men like Thomas would not learn. Hurting and harassing women was just a pass time to them. Joker took it upon himself to prevent this from ever happening again to anyone. You’d been through enough already. Joker proved he could be your silent protector. He would always protect you. 

No amount of soap could remove the blood from his hands. He kissed the crown of your head while his tainted hands rubbed soothing shapes on your back.  

You were nodding off from all of J’s soft touches but a faint buzzing from your phone, roused you back awake.  

His eyes glanced at the device on the coffee table, “Leave it, Bun. It’s nothin.’” He should have known you wouldn’t listen to his orders. You never did.  

“It could be Delilah with the VIP passes.” 

“Who?” How did you memorize every person you spoke with? He lost count already.  

“It doesn’t matter who, lemme see.” You squirmed in his hold that only tightened the more you rebelled. He did not want you turning around and your gaze landing on the tv, so he made up excuses.  

“Aht aht. You promised to re-lax with meeeee. No phones, no plannin’ from either of us.” 

You were quick with the side eye, “You can’t go an hour without planning something.” His scarred face cracked in a genuine smile from being called out. His brain never shut off. Joker was scheming right now.  

“Do I really look like a guy with a plan?” 

All you did was roll your eyes.  

Joker moved slowly so you could feel his hands cup your face. “My Bunny’s been running like a chicken with her uhh.. head cuT off. I do have a plan if! you’re up for it.”  

“Here we go” you started but Joker silenced you with a playful boop to your nose. He really had to stop doing that. It made you jump every time.  

“Listennnn Bunny. You’ve been stressed lately, hm? So! I was thinK-ing.. I cash in on that err.. promise I made ya. You remember. The night ya neverrr forget?”  

He smiled at your bashful reaction. “Yeah, my pretty girl remembers. Why don’tcha leave all the planning to me and leT me spoil ya. Prett-Y please?” 

How could you deny J when he looked so irresistible? He forewent makeup today giving you a perfect view of the constellations of freckles that adorned his skin. Those vibrant eyes of his were like pools of emerald sucking you in. You could blindly trust this clown and that fact scared you tremendously. 

“F-Fine but nothing too crazy. I still have to work you know.”  

Joker made a funny noise while drumming his fingers down your back. “Mm, is flying ya out the state too crazy?”  

You knew he was being serious by how he avoided eye contact with you. He burst out laughing seeing your troubled expression. No doubt, you were remembering his terrifying flying skills. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding sweetheart.” He purred. He was lying right through his teeth and the both of you knew it. Joker never did things halfway. Over the top and meticulously planned was his signature. “Sheesh, you really are stressed.” He mumbled to himself.  

The steady downpour outside briefly caught his attention. Gotham City was saturated with rain and for once, Joker had no intention of wreaking havoc on the city. He wanted nothing more to stay indoors with his Light and pass the time together doing everything and nothing.  

The simple act of holding you and watching the rain hit the glass roof was enough to satisfy J.  

You called his name, hoping to regain his attention. And just like that, Joker’s intense green eyes were on you. “Do I have time to squeeze in a nap?” you shyly asked. That last business call really took a lot out of you and J took pity on the cute little yawns you tried to mask. 

“Duh! My Goddess can sleep for as loooong as she wants. I won’t move a muscle.”  

“Can you um...” your voice trailed off as your insecurities kicked in. Naturally, Joker noticed it.  

He leaned his head down to urge you to speak up. “What was that, doll?” J had an idea of what you wanted judging by your hooded eyes, but he wanted to hear you say it.  

A closed mouth would not get fed, or however the saying went.  

“Can you keep r-rubbing my back? I-It feels good.” You blurted out. This man had done far more intimate acts with your body but asking him to rub your back is what made you flustered?  

Quiet moments like this with J put a spotlight on his rare soft side. He was shockingly a great cuddler and he was always in tune with your needs. You couldn’t ask for a better partner.  

Wait. Partner?  

Your brain went into overdrive overthinking that one insignificant word. Partner. Is that how you viewed Joker? Did he feel the same?  

He was obvious to your thoughts, but he could tell you were doing some heavy thinking. You were biting your poor lip raw. You couldn’t help stressing yourself out.  

He chuckled while wordlessly obeying your request.  

Joker took a deep breath, before he began moving his hands up and down your back in shapes that only he could decipher. Joker ran like a furnace, not like you minded. Your apartment ran a little cold during rainy mornings. The benefits of living in an old penthouse you assumed. At least having J around saved on your heating bill.  

The steady beat of Joker’s heart was like a lullaby in your ear as you gradually fall asleep in his arms. There was no safer place in Gotham than here with him. You were dozing off in record time.  

Oh, the trust you gave never failed to surprise him.  

Despite your dark past, you opened up and let him see you. Laid bare, broken, and raw, he got to see it all. You let The Joker of all people, know you so intimately. It was the greatest honor.  

Joker wanted to give you the world in return. His sweet Light, who took on so much weight on your too little shoulders.  

You gave him permission to execute his plans, and his goons were on standby to make it happen. Joker put this off for way too long. He picked up his phone and quickly sent off a message.  

‘We’re a go.’ 

How you managed to sleep through the countless door slams and frequent bustling throughout your apartment was a testament to just how exhausted you were.  

Joker saw how much energy you were putting into the final preparations for GothCon but you were running yourself ragged doing so. You more than deserved a break. He planned to spoil you the night he drove you to Blüdhaven, yet outside interference ruined his plans.  

Tonight’s reattempt was nowhere near the elaborate affair Joker originally had planned, but it’ll do. He promised you that he would not go too crazy.  

He half listened.  

In the end, your afternoon nap morphed into an evening one and the smell of something divine inevitably lured you awake. Your hair was all over the place (what possessed you not to wear a bonnet?) and droll was most likely dried on your chin. It was a good idea to freshen up but that smell was just too irresistible to ignore. The penthouse was dark and so was the kitchen as you sat up.  

Your eyes were still adjusting but J was nowhere to be found. And he wouldn’t move a muscle, he said. “J?”  

Your voice bounced off the vaulted ceilings. You secretly hoped he didn’t leave to go out and terrorize the city.  

It wouldn’t be the first time he left you hanging without a goodbye. Regardless, you were hungry, and your stomach cried out, demanding that you find the source of the food you smelled.  

The rainstorm had stopped, giving the city a reprieve for the night. Your sunroom’s glass doors were wide open, and you could see the balcony’s string lights casting a glow from your vantage point on the living room couch. What was Joker up to? 

Without knowing the full picture, you knew your Prince of Crime was responsible.  

You toed on a pair of house slippers and shuffled towards the balcony where the sight wiped the last dregs of sleep away.  

“Tada!” Joker was standing in the middle of a picturesque romcom scene as proud as ever.  

Your eyes did not know where to look.  

Candles and the balcony’s string lights softened the gloomy Gotham City skyline in the background. Somehow Joker found a round dinner table and threw a crisp white tablecloth, more candles, and a vase of your favorite flowers on top of it.  

You knew Morgana’s work from anywhere.  

Her locally grown petals were scattered on the balcony, some being swept by the nighttime breeze. But the best part of all was Joker dressed in a cozy sweater and slacks. You never seen him look so... homey. He made you feel underdressed with your sleep tossed curls and frumpy sweats.  

By how Joker stared at you, what you wore was the least of his concerns. You just woke up and he thought you looked heavenly.  

“Do ya li-ke it, doll?” Joker walked over and wiped a tear from your cheek. You didn’t realize that you were crying. He didn’t mention it either.  

“Your uh, dinner is gettin’ cold. Here.” Joker took your hand and guided you over to the table with the ease of a gentleman.  

He let you sit and pushed you into the table with a low chuckle. You were speechless. Joker was a master organizer, but this looked like it should have taken a day to collaborate, not a couple of hours.  

"How did you do all of this? I took a nap, right? I didn’t oversleep and skip a day?”  

Joker smirked and lifted the metal covers off the plates. Your eyes widened at the steaming entrée that greeted you. Your stomach sang out in glee.  

“Mmh. I’d be hungry too if my owner didn’t. Eat. All. Day.” Joker sent you a sharp glare for your oversight. You were working too hard and forgotten to eat. Again.  

“Sorry.” you mumbled. Joker just rolled his eyes and gestured to the food. He didn’t have to tell you twice. You picked up a fork and dug in, and immediately cooed at the burst of flavor.  

“Did you cook this?!”  

“What? Shocked a white boy can cook?” you almost spat out your food at Joker’s comment. He wasn’t bothered and stabbed a vegetable with his fork, inspecting it closely. “If you must know, I had some uhh... assistance.” He flung the veg over the balcony edge while you weren’t looking.  

You were too caught up in the moment to notice.  

“Yeah, I can tell you called Morgana for flowers.” You smiled at the flower spread surrounding you. He grunted, giving away the answer. You were happy with Joker’s growth. He was learning, slowly but surely, how to interact with others. He still hated people; he just tolerated them for your sake.  

It gave you the idea that he hired a chef. He surprised you that one time by cooking pancakes, but J said it himself, “at least I can feed myself without burning the apartment down." 

There was no way he could have pulled off this fancy dinner on his own. “I didn't know you could this good.” you said, poking around for answers.  

You did not need to know how many times Joker almost burned the food.  

The private chef that he hired offered to cook the meal and give Joker all the credit but that wouldn’t do. J wanted you to eat something that he made, that he provided for you. It was a primal instinct he wanted to act on.  

Joker just needed an expert to spot his work. The three hours and countless death threats to the chef were worth seeing your blinding smile with each bite you took.  

You didn’t seem to notice the too charred vegetables or the grainy sauce, maybe you did and ate it anyway. Joker was happy to see you clear your plate, and he loved watching your childlike excitement as he brought out dessert.  

“It's beautiful, J!” You almost didn’t want to eat the work of art.  

Now this he had to come clean about. “I uhhh..I didn’t make this. Gotta leave some things to ahh, ex-perTs.” 

You sank your spoon into the confit, smirking. “I know, J.” You knew your man didn’t have the patience to make such a confection.  

He eyed your tongue darting out to collect the sugar from your lips. He almost didn’t hear your question. Almost. 

“Aww, don’t worry about me doll. I can find something to do while you’re away. A robbery. A couple of murders. Messin’ with Bats..” 

“I’m serious Joker. I don’t want you moping around the apartment or out causing chaos while I’m at Con.” 

Joker had the right to look offended. “Me? I would never!” 

“Moping around or being a menace?” You challenged.  

J smiled into his bite of dessert. It was his turn to make you all hot and bothered. His moan of delight sounded too suggestive for a harmless dessert. Watching him lick his spoon clean felt like an X rated show. Joker and that devilish tongue of his...  

You cleared your throat. “W-Whatever, you better not get caught while I’m gone.” 

Joker hummed in the intimate air. “You ready for next week?” He regretted asking you the second you groaned and dropped your spoon.  

“Yes? No? Physically I am, but there’s so much I want to say and not enough time to say it in! What if my fans hate my presentation?” Your lower lip wobbled just thinking about it.  

The sight alone had Joker reacting to pacify it.  

“Bunny. No. They won’t hate it. Uhh, remember? I’m your biggest fan? and I would love anything you present. Aht aht. I mean it. They didn’t see how you ‘perfected’ that video a bajillion time and practiced your speech till ya voice went hoarse. I have. Sooooo, I mean it when I say, they’ll love iT. I’ll kill anyone who doesn’t.” He grumbled the last sentence, yet you heard the honesty in his voice.  

“You can’t go around murdering all my haters, J.” 

He arched an eyebrow in denial. “Who says I can’t?”  

Fair point. Not even you could stop Joker from a killing spree once he put his mind to it. Although you could try and compromise with the sadistic clown. “Promise me you won’t go awol?”  

The request went right over J’s head. “What-everrrrr ya say, Bun. Now! Who’s ready for a distraction?” He spotted your empty dessert bowl and wanted to skip to tonight’s main event. He was excited to see your reaction.  

You were curious when Joker helped you out of your seat, cut the lights—plunging the balcony into darkness before pulling you into his lap on the patio couch.  

The nearby Fashion District usually offered up ample lighting, however tonight, its glow was nonexistent. You didn’t like the sea of darkness surrounding you. Joker instantly noticed you tensing up.  

He kissed you on the cheek while pointing up at the night sky. “Watch.” He sent a quick text as you grew more confused.  

“Watch what? It’s pitch black out.” Then you heard it. The first of many canons going off until color invaded the sky. It was a beautiful display of controlled chaos.  

Fireworks in Gotham City.  

Your eyes widened as each shell became more and more elaborate. You couldn’t tell where they were being shot from, but the fact that Joker organized them was touching.  

You told him once in passing you missed the illegal firework shows back in Blüdhaven.  

They were a big deal in your neighborhood growing up. Everyone pitched in money to buy the banned goods. Living in a dense city made setting them off virtually impossible and the police cracked down on the annual tradition harder each year until it ended altogether. 

Joker ever so observant, must’ve planned to set off fireworks in Blüdhaven when the two of you visited. When he did things like this, you forgot all about the psychopathic murderer he truly was.  

A dud went off and you took that time to lean back and kiss Joker. “Thank you.”  

He pretended like it wasn’t a big deal and shrugged off your emotions bubbling up to the surface. You blinked back the happy tears and returned your gaze back to the colorful night sky.  

Joker circled his arms around you, pleased at a successful mission.  

He wanted you to view the fireworks in your childhood neighborhood all dolled up and pretty, but this was still a night you’ll never forget.  

His Goddess tucked safely in his arms, well fed, and happy. What more could he ask for? He’d never forget this either.  

The final fireworks seemed bigger than the sky itself.  

A technicolor canon went off in an extravagant explosion that you knew cost an arm and leg. Definitely imported. One flame diverted its course and set a building alit, but you didn’t see that. Your eyes were glued to the finale canon that went off like a war zone before ending with you and J’s initials inside a heart.  

You didn’t realize how quiet it was until the fireworks stopped. Gotham City was eerily quiet even for a weeknight.  

The smell of sulfur was still heavy in the air as you turned around to face J.  

“Joker that was...!” Your words died out as you locked eyes with your lover.  

All the malice he gave the world melted from his eyes and the remains was pure adoration fixated on you. He looked possessed. High. And his scarred lips spreading into a lop-sided smile didn’t help clear his innocence. 

“Have I told ya that before?” Joker mumbled. 

You didn’t know what he was on about. You silently shook your head in the negative.  

Joker’s smitten gaze hardened as he swallowed. You were shocked to see two extreme emotions alter his face so quickly, but you were patient to hear what this clown had to say. 

“Tell me what?” You caressed his cheek, feeling the scar tissue with your thumb until J grabbed your hand. He didn’t break eye contact as he kissed each of your fingers.  

“I.. I don’t think I’ll ever love someone the way I do you.”  

You knew Joker was serious. He didn’t stress a single word. He said the most romantic confession and brushed it off the second he realized you were frozen in shock.  

Joker knew you were healing and dropping love bombs wasn’t ideal—but he couldn’t help it! The phrase fell from his lips because it was the truth. He never felt this way before and if he didn’t say it aloud, he just might actually go insane.  

He didn’t expect you to respond. His heart was fine with your silence because the single tear running down your cheek told him you felt the same. 

For now, he could handle a little rejection even it wasn’t intentional. He stood with a flourish and offered you his hand to take.  

“Whaddya say I get my Light to bed? No more stressin’ ya got it? I want these next few days to be... re-lax-ing.”   

You would try, just to see Joker smiling the way he was right now— like all was right in the world, a world where his Light was the center axis.  

True to Joker’s word, he kept you stress free the days leading up to GothCon.  

He wouldn’t let you lift a finger. It was just like the first months with Joker hiding away in your apartment. Just the two of you against the world. You didn’t turn on the tv, Joker turned off his phone or rather, it was off when you were looking. He still had a criminal empire to run no matter how good his intentions were with his Bunny.  

He thanked you for being naïve as he finalized his own preparations for the fated GothCon behind your back. 

He would be busy as well. Everything had to go smoothly behind the scenes for your week to be successful. Which led him to the morning of. 

A sunny day in Gotham was coveted as good luck. The curtains in the bedroom were drawn but that didn’t stop Joker from knowing what time it was. Your phone almost woke you up with an alarm. Not an ideal way to start a, no doubt, stressful day.  

Joker had more pleasant ways to wake up his girl.  

You were already lying on your back, looking so innocent in your slumber. Joker almost felt bad for doing this. Almost.  

His sinister grin disappeared underneath the bedsheets until he arrived right where he needed to be. He slowly parted your thighs to reveal the goldmine between them. Joker licked his lips just thinking about the taste.  

There was a reason why he nicknamed you sugar. He didn’t waste any time diving into his dessert. 

You woke up with a jolt followed by a shudder running down your spine. The odd sensation wouldn’t go away until you felt pressure down there.... 

Despite it feeling absolutely amazing, your first instinct was to kick the offender away—that is, until worn calluses you knew from anywhere, rubbed soothing patterns on your warm skin to calm you down. In that same moment, you yanked the sheets back to reveal Joker’s wild bed head between your legs.  

Joker was caught red handed and he didn’t care.  

His green eyes were glazed over as he laved at your clit with a cheeky, “M’ning sweet thing. So sweet..”  

It was like your pleasure finally registered. You fisted the sheets with a choked moan as it hit you like a tidal wave.  

Joker’s encouraging groans sent little tremors throughout your cunt and he didn’t let you squirm away.  

His hands kneaded your hips like an avid baker, keeping you right where he wanted you. He knew where to squeeze, how to use his tongue, and exactly when to flick your clit just right to make you explode.  

Your poor bonnet slipped off with all the thrashing you were doing but Joker had you going through it. His venom green eyes pierced your soul as he sucked it right out of your body.  

Even when you grew sensitive and began to tap out, Joker shook his head, not letting go of his tasty morsel. He loved feeling your thighs suffocating him as another powerful orgasm washed over you. He wasn’t stopping. If he died, then so be it. 

“J, p-please..” you twitched when Joker licked your pussy like a lolly pop. You could already hear his stupid rhetoric jab, ‘how many licks does it take to get to the center?’ 

One, two... 

You couldn’t take anymore and shoved Joker’s head away but it was too late.  

Your third and final release got tangled up in your throat and it left your face all tingly as a result. Every inhale you took prolonged the throbbing inferno and if it were possible to see clearly, Joker’s face dripping with your juices would have really made you pass out.  

He sat up and sucked his fingers clean while watching you fight your way back to Earth.  

Your hand over your heart did a whole lotta nothing to calm it. 

Everything was times a hundred on the sensory scale. Joker just smirked and helped you down by lightly drawing on your exposed skin with his pinky finger.  

J knew you were back when you sank your nails into his hair. He needed to wash it if he had plans on going out. “What was that for?” You panted.  

As if he needed a reason to bless you with a good morning, Joker gasped in faux disbelief. “Uhh? Today’s the day! You ready to meet your a-bore-ring fans?”  

And just like that, your mood evaporated.  

You groaned straight into a pillow until Joker snatched it away with a sly grin. “Need n’other distraction?” He used his fingers to ‘walk’ up your hip. You were tempted. You still couldn’t feel your legs... 

But you refused to be afraid. “You can’t distract me forever, J.” You flung the covers back and wobbled onto your feet. “Easy there, doll.” Joker teased. 

You ignored his wheezing laughter to check on the outfit you set out the night before.  

You wanted to look your best to feel your best. Large crowds, screaming fans, and tight spaces; your poor social bar was going to be put to the test this week. Day one would set the mood for the entire event, and you wanted it to be perfect.  

There was no room for error when the event would be highly documented via live streams and other media. 

The colorful ensemble Joker helped pick out flowed through your fingers as you inspected for any possible spots. “I wish you could come with me.” you sighed and headed towards the bathroom. “Oh well.”  

Joker snorted when you disappeared into the bathroom to begin getting ready. He was already twelve steps ahead of you.  

You left Joker at the penthouse well before the sun started to rise. Today was a big day and there was no time to waste.  

You arrived at your designated booth to the sight of Cindy and her new assistant, Noah, bustling around. Noah was the first to spot you and his sweet sigh of relief made you laugh as you handed him coffee.  

“Bless you for this!” He downed the large cup in a matter of seconds. Sometimes Gen Z truly scared you.  

Your concerned gaze shifted to Cindy who was talking to two men, pointing to where you taped off a natural line for fans to queue. They nodded and started setting up the rope barriers.  

The last of your booth decor was being put into place while two helpers from Cindy’s office were arranging your books in a neat but approachable, display.  

The meet and greet photo booth was taking shape nearby and you loved how the art you commissioned a fan to create turned out. It was all coming together.  

All that was left was the people.  

An officiant walked by an hour later brandishing a bullhorn. “Doors open in fifteen! Please be at your designated areas in fifteen minutes. Thank you.”  

Cue your panic attack.  

Cindy spotted it and ran over. She pressed your face with blotting paper and offered you a water bottle. “Y/n.... deep breaths, okay? These are your loyal fans. You were born ready for this. Natural smiles, calm demeanor, and a steady hand. Repeat that.” 

“Repeat what?”  

She pinched her nose, sighing.  

Cindy wouldn’t be able to hover over you all morning; that was Noah’s job. The new intern would blend right in with the crowd’s demographic and offer you some moral support while Cindy took care of the networking aspect of things.  

You could use all the support you could get to survive to the afternoon presentation.  

Cindy was smart to schedule it later on in the day in an attempt to help build up some courage for you. It beat presenting bright and early like other seasoned GothCon headliners were doing.  

It was all too much to think about. Then you remembered Cindy patiently waiting for a response.  

“I’ll be fine.” You rehearsed your panic signals. Overwhelmed. I need a break. Abort. You could escape all by fiddling with your earrings or sharpie. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to those extremes.  

You waved Cindy away and sat up tall, right as the announcer came over the convention center speakers welcoming everyone to this year’s GothCon.  

Strangely enough, your face broke out into a genuine smile when curious, and ecstatic, fans started to pour into the building. Perhaps you would be fine after all.  

You were handing a special Braille edition to a young girl when you spotted the next person in line. “Will!” you waved at the twelve-year old and his group of friends.  

They were quite shocked when you stood up to hug William like a close friend.  

It wasn’t time for meet and greets and you knew the line of fans were giving the preteen a mean jealous glare. “You made it!!” You beamed.  

“Haha yeah.. Thanks for the scoring us the tickets btw. Your hands are healed!” Will clapped them, earning a laugh out of you.  

So much had happened in your life since meeting the little Brit. Joker cutting your hands seemed like the least of your worries.  

You held your silver sharpie like a wand. “Yes, all healed which means... do you really need another signed copy?”  

Will took offense. He held up his special edition copy as if it explained itself. It did. There was only a few thousand floating around due to the hand painted edges and embossed crest on the sleek hardcover. Another collaboration with a talented fan of yours at work.  

“Y/n, I’m hurt.” He didn’t have to call you out like that.  

“Okay, okay.. I’ll sign your special edition, geez.” You took your time swooping the letters of your name and emphasizing the swirls that lead to your drawn heart. You loved your Avant Garde signature. No one could replicate it.  

Will stood to the side as you signed his three friends copies and made light conversation.  

They asked how you knew Will so closely and you boosted the boy’s ego by telling them the truth. Not everyone got to have their favorite author show up at their doorstep for dinner.  

You hoped Will would overcome his social anxiety and flourish with his new friends. You saw so much of your younger self in him.  

You handed your book back to Will’s friend. “Oh, don’t forget to stay for my segment! It’s after the meet and greet block.”  

Noah cleared his throat as he walked by your booth, signaling you spent too much time with William and his friends. You winced and waved them off to greet the next fan in line.  

You didn’t understand why you were so nervous earlier.  

Interacting with your fans came naturally to you after the first few awkward minutes. Sure, you messed up a signature or two, no one cared as long as they got a signed copy.  

Once the autograph line diminished a bit, coordinators guided you over to the big photo shoot area you had set up.  

There the bulk of your nerves came out. Talking about your books and signing them was one thing, taking pictures was where you panicked. The constant flashing light did something to you mentally. 

Case in point, a pair of twins were spouting their theories about a fourth WHB book when they surprised you by taking out their personal cell phones.  

The prohibited flash caught you off guard and you jumped back, feeling an episode kicking in.  

Water rushed in your ears, and it made their concerned, ‘are you okay? sound miles away. Did you nod? Did you touch your earring? Who knows. You needed a minute and neither Noah or Cindy was around to rescue you.  

What if someone was filming and posted your panic attack on social media? Cindy’s PR team would murder you.. So many worries piled on and threatened to topple you over.  

You had to be seeing things.  

In your panic scan for an exit, your eyes caught the sight of green in the crowd. Like a light switch, your heartbeat calmed. The stacked noise of background conversations and music rushed back. You were above the water and steady on your feet.  

That slight glimpse grounded you.  

“Omg Y/n? Are you like, okay? I hope I didn’t offend you!” One of the twins said.  

You sent her a reassuring smile. “I’m okay, the um.. flash must’ve—Hunter is very much alive. I can’t kill off the eye candy!”  

That got them both to squealing (and diverted the curious eyes away from you) and just like that, the next person was stepping up for their twenty minutes. You hugged and exchanged pleasantries, but your mind was elsewhere.  

You couldn’t shake the sight out of your head. Was Joker really in the crowd or were you seeing things? It wouldn’t be the first time you hallucinated him.  

“—and I’m so happy you’re so inclusive with your stories! I just love you!”  

This current fan was dressed in an elaborate cosplay from some manga you’ve seen once or twice. It was interesting to see how diverse people were with literature. Your novels were a far cry from comics, yet you still had a place here at GothCon.  

Mind blowing. And more so, the turnout you got was insane.  

Noah must’ve seen how you were struggling with this current fan.  

They stuck to character and spoke just like them, making understanding them a bit of a challenge. Noah stepped in with his own bubbly persona.  

“Hi! Love the cosplay girl, but I gotta wrap this up. Attention everyone! Please join us in 2A for our big surprise after lunch! Yes, Room 2A!” 

He grabbed your hand and whisked you away before you could utter a single goodbye.  

“Noah!” You weren’t upset, more like impressed. 

He ushered you into the designated staff area in no time. “I am not missing out on lunch. Cindy promised catering.” 

Both of you shared a look. “Of course she did.” 

How the businesswoman got piping hot food from your favorite restaurant in the rush and madness of GothCon, the world may never know.  

Your team actually sat down in an empty banquet room for lunch unlike other presenters. You saw one eating instant noodles in the staff hallway. It really paid to be organized.  

In between bites of food, you rehearsed your upcoming speech and did a mock presentation without too many stutters.  

“You’re overthinking it, Y/n. It’s perfect, I promise.” Lily, a content editor from Cindy’s Publisher house, spoke up. The team all nodded in agreement, but it wasn’t enough for you.  

Cindy set her fork down before adding in her two cents. “I agree, Y/n. Don’t shoot for perfection.” 

“Says the woman eating seared Halibut at a convention center.” You said with a groan. Your manager oozed perfection no matter the situation.  

Cindy ignored the low chuckles floating around the room. “Just be your fun quirky self and you’ll be fine.” 

Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one expected to face thousands of people in person and even more who were logging on to stream the segment. You felt ready to puke, especially when an event coordinator popped in to get you prepped for the stage.  

It was showtime whether you were ready or not.  

Cindy was the only familiar face backstage with you as multiple stagehands ran around performing sound checks, lighting, giving cues to the current guest on stage, etc.  

It was chaos and you were smack in the middle of it.  

Why couldn’t this be done on a smaller stage? You quickly reminded yourself that you were considered big league now. People paid to gain admission to your stage slot. Lots of people that required a large banquet hall to hold, thus a big fancy stage.  

You handed off your USB to a technician who disappeared inside a back room. Giant screens and professional effects were at work here, but it went all over your head. You were a ball of nerves ready to explode.  

Cindy took pity on your fourth pacing circuit and stepped in your path.  

“Y/n, you can do this. How many times have we practiced in my office?” Cindy frowned when you continued to pace, not hearing a word she said. “I’ll fetch you some water.” She sighed.  

She really hoped the problems in your life didn’t ruin this once in a lifetime experience.  

The second she stepped away, a tall man dressed in security garb walked past dragging you behind a large tote stack of equipment and out of sight of everyone backstage.  

The cautionary hand over your mouth fell when he tugged his face mask down to show himself. There was no need; you recognized those eyes from anywhere.  

“Joker?!” you hissed quietly. Thank God you weren’t hallucinating earlier! 

He silenced you with a much-needed kiss. His hands were balmy cupping your face and you melted into the comfort J provided. You whined when he pulled away.  

“Not so loud, Bunny.” He glanced around the totes to see if anyone heard your slip of the tongue. 

The coast was clear for now. “I had to check on ya.” He wrapped you up in his arms and rocked you gently in that silly way of his. It drew a giggle from you, just as planned. “You’ll do great. I. Know. It. Hey. Look at me, mmh?”  

You looked up on command. “There’s my girl. Go out there and have fun mkay?” He encouraged you to nod with him.  

Both of you heard a stagehand calling your name—breaking the stolen moment you had with Joker.  

He grumbled but kissed you one final time before pushing you back into the hustle and bustle. The stagehand sighed in relief seeing you reappear. There was no time to look for a missing presenter.  

They handed you a mic and Cindy gave you a thumbs up as a vocal announcer welcomed you on stage.  

You could hear the audience all riled up and excited. Was it too late to make a run for it? Joker’s words were the fuel to help you skip onto the stage.  

Cindy clapped along like any proud manager would, but her eyes flickered over to the dimly lit corner from where you mysteriously emerged from.  

What were you doing back there?  

Now was not the time to wonder. The audience was chanting your name, and you bashfully stood in the spotlight, soaking up the attention. 

Just like we rehearsed. Go out there and have fun. You were born ready for this. 

Everyone’s words of encouragement pounded in your head. You exhaled and raised the mic to your lips.  

“Hey hi and hello! Thank you all for your attendance! Wow, that sounds so academic. Am I a professor now?” Your natural rambling earned you a collective chuckle from the crowd. These were your fans and fellow readers who loved you unconditionally. Why were you worried? 

You shook your head to reset the speech engrained in your head. “Anyhoooo. Let’s try that again. Hey hi and hello, welcome to GothCon!!”  

The crowd roared their greeting, feeding off of your sudden burst of energy.  

“Alright that’s more like it! We made it to GothCon loves and if you follow me on socials.... I promised a big, huuuuuge surprise. So! Let’s discuss our favorite handsome trio. The boys have been up to no good! I mean.. Bill might be dead!”  

You paused for dramatic effect as girls screamed like mad. You paced the stage, giggling into the mic. You were known for being a troll and your fans loved it. 

“And we cannot forget about Hunter finding the connection to our world. Who knows.. he might hunt down the reader who’s responsible for these senseless murders.” You looked directly into the main camera so the haters (mostly Harvey Dent) could get the message.  

Your books were works of fiction despite it being the reader’s fault the in-book characters kept dying.  

“Now I think all of you would love a fourth installment..” The audience held their breath knowing something big was coming. The suspense was growing just like you rehearsed. You were a romance/thriller author after all.  

Someone in the crowd grew impatient and cried out, “OMG, I’m gunna die!”  

“Please don’t.” You replied just as quickly. That earned you another collective laugh.  

“Okay, I trolled you guys and gals for too long! My publisher house is partnering with The Wayne Enterprises... yeah that Wayne, to give us all what we’ve been craving.”  

You cued for the video to begin. The banquet hall’s lighting dimmed as the giant screens started to play your promo.  

The screen was stark white until it came alive with your distinct handwriting filling the screen. You worked with special effects and the graphic’s team to make this possible.  

Your own hand wrote out, Will. Hunter. Bill: Official Script and the crowd went insane.  

A clip of you and Wayne Enterprises production team brainstorming played on as it cut to show bullet points of potential actors you had in mind, teasers of storylines, and other goodies. The video was one big promo to announce the obvious. Your book series was green lit for film.  

The announcement was an instant hit.  

You were too busy watching your fans go berserk that you almost didn’t see the screen begin to glitch. Finally hearing the track skip made you react in your typical comical flair.  

“Woah, technical difficulties in 2024? That’s wild. Can we get this troubleshooted backstage, please?”  

You turned to the crowd to apologize when you noticed the horror on one girl's face in the front row. “What’s wrong?” 

She pointed up at the screen. You turned back around to witness your worst nightmare unfolding. 

The glitch was far worse than you imagined. Your movie promo was gone and recent pictures of you and Joker out and about, all of them depicting a red x crossing out J’s face, covered the screens. There were so many...  

You and Joker at the grocery store. At an amusement park near the apartment. Leaving Euphoria that night in Atlanta. Walking around together in Martha’s Vineyard. Shopping at Tiffany’s...  

Every private moment you spent with Joker was on display for everyone to see. Thankfully, his face wasn’t shown but the bloody red covering it made it clear that someone wanted him gone.  

And you didn’t have to guess who was behind this hack. The last picture shown made your blood run cold.  

You could never forget that day.  

You could still feel the silk dress against your legs and the weight of the arm slung over your shoulders. The picture was taken the day your life changed forever. You sat at the VIP booth in Vincent’s restaurant cuddled up with his nephew, Tyler Bicchieri. 

Your past self was smiling wide at the camera while the monster hidden in plain sight had his eyes firmly on you. His knowing grin sickened you.  

Joker didn’t care about the consequences. He saw the video glitch out and instantly reacted. The same pictures that were delivered to the beach house (along with some new additions) were being aired out for the world to see. It was a mild warning before. Now it was a promise.  

Your ex had declared war.  

Joker pushed his way past the backstage crew and actual security trying to bring peace to the assembly. A voice announcer was reminding the guests to remain calm as they experienced technical difficulties.  

Technicians were trying to shut down the video with little success. It was pure madness. The only thing on Joker’s mind was getting to you.  

You were frozen on stage, too horrified to scream. Your eyes were glued to the message blinking on screen. 

Can’t hide forever honeydew. I’ll see you soon. 

Joker radioed for Frost and the others to have the car ready as he picked you up bridal style and fled the scene.  

[shroomaz]

"No One Else but You..." (Introduction)

A Future! RISE! Donatello x GN! Reader (Series)

A/N: This is a RISE! Take on the future story (Defeated Krang Route) and how I feel Donnie would act in the future. I personally...feel like he would be a good father, yet he has to get out of the way he acts as a genius and get in touch with his more emotional side...that's where you come in my dear reader. ENJOY!!! <3

WARNING: This is a story of You and Donnie coming together and co-parenting little softshell teetle tots. If you are not interested in babies that's completely fine- I'm much either LMAOOO-

He couldn't remember what life was like before.

It had been 20 years since the Krang were sent back to the prison dimension. And in those 20 years, the turtles have turned from teenagers...to adults.

It was such a change; especially for Donatello. The science behind time was never something Donnie could figure out. Time flew by so quickly- within a blink of an eye.

And thus, science still prospered.

It was something that he could look forward to in studies; more things to discover, more to understand...and that helped keep his mind occupied. This meant more projects of technological advancements and more body parts and upgrades for Shelldon.

It kept his mind off of...you. 

How is this? It all started the day you walked into his life...funny isn't it? The rooftop meeting; he never imagined would've give such bliss in memories as it did now.

Irony? The emotionally unavailable bad boy image twisting around and slowly becoming so attached to you throughout life the more he missed you.

He would often stay up doing all-nighters (like usual), trying to get his brain to think of other things...to no hope. Just going back to you.

It was nearly 17 years ago- 3 years after Krang was imprisoned...

......

...

"Donnie...?"

An 18-year-old Don was working on some upgrades to his battle shell, adding more limbs to his spider and sipping on flavorless juice. Blasting his jammy jams.

"DONNIE!" you had yelled out to Donnie to catch his attention.

"Hm?" Donnie had lifted his tech goggles and raised an eyebrow. "Oh- greetings Y/N! What brings you here to--hEy that's my chair!" Donnie gritted through his teeth as you laid your bum onto HIS chair...anyone else he would shove them out. However, this was you, he hated to admit it, but he had a soft spot for you.

You spun in it whilst laughing as he rolled his eyes and moved his things. "Oh come on Donnieeee...you know you are happy to see me." you had teased him with a little grin.

"Oh, on the contrary, dear Y/N, it is YOU who was missing me!" he gloated placing his hand on his chest with a smile. "Besides, it's been a while since you visited- What brings you to the Great Donatello today~?" more gloating...he loves to toot his own horn, doesn't he? It was cute.

"Can't I just come to see my partner anytime I want, hm? And-" Donnie turned back to you as he cheered.

"Victory! It seems that I am right...much like I concluded-"

"How else would you see me again." 

"....What...?" Donnie's features had dropped, as suddenly the once purple lights faded to black.

It was nothing but you... 

"What...where...? Y/N? What's going on?" Donnie had so many questions that needed answers, but were left unattended. You walked forward like you were reaching...but you turned and walked away, getting further and further.

"Y/N? No...No, no, no--Nonononono-NO- please don't leave me again- PLEASE!" Donnie called out as you continued into the darkness. The more he tried to rush to you, the more he felt like his limbs were being held back by gravity. The sound of an alarm blaring in the background getting louder.

You had looked back at him with a smile before he woke up again.

Gasping for air- and shooting up into a more proper sitting position.

He had fallen asleep at his desk again.

Looking around at his surroundings...feeling older and not like he did in his dream.

A dream...it was all a dream.

Donnie sighs as he places a hand over his face in a facepalm...and then there he felt it, the tears.

....He sighed as he rubbed his temples before looking over at one of his stations.

Standing, and stretching- he made his way to the table, and looked down at his project...his very high priority subject.

Smiling, almost full of pride.

Looking upon a specially-made incubator full of softshell eggs.

(END)

(I know this story doesn't explain a lot but its more like the prologue.

[redrobin-detective]

This is an announcement and a promise: if you are a bad nurse, I am coming for you. If you are rude and judgemental to patients, deny them basic human decency you will face my wrath. If you take shit care of them, think you know better than not only the patients and your coworkers but the whole medical team then you cannot hide from me. I will find you and I will go toe to toe with you bc even the worst human alive deserves care and respect and I will beat that lesson into you and maybe make you grow a heart.

[paithology]

𝙎𝙒𝙄𝙎𝙃, 𝘽𝙐𝙏 𝘿𝙊𝙉'𝙏 𝙎𝙋𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙄𝙏 ☆ ݁ ⋆

- Your average trip to the dentist.

Pairings: Doctor!toji x fem!reader

Content warnings: smut, oral, size kink, doctor au

Doctor!toji who told you you had perfect pearly white teeth although he had one concern, the bruising in the back of your throat. You never heard anything about bruising in the past. This was a new dentist after all, maybe he noticed things your previous doctors didn't. 

Doctor!toji who wanted to examine the bruises with a new technique of his, he was the doctor and knew best so you decided to give him your full trust. He assured you the procedure was painless and all you had to do was say “ahh” 

Doctor!toji Who was now palming his cock not breaking eye contact, pumping a few times. Horse groans, escaping his lips with each stroke. parting your lips with his thumb. 

“This isnt gonna take long is it?” you ask, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

“Not at all.” He reassured aligning his cock and your mouth

“Now be a good girl and open wide.” He said mimically  

Slightly opening your mouth, Before you could fully take all of him in. He forcefully shoves himself into you, instantly gaging, saliva escaping from your mouth, eyes widening with the sudden invasion.

Doctor!toji Who was now clenching his teeth and slightly biting his lower lip, In pleasure. His hips bucking into you as he pushed you further onto his cock. Making sure you took every inch of him. It was his duty as your dentist to feel every perimeter of your throat. 

Thinking about Doctor!toji with his cock twitching in your mouth, the aggressive stroke of his hips, and the pretty sound of his grunts. It was all too much, Nothing you’ve ever felt before. 

“So needy, always wanting something down your throat” he taunted as your eyes began to water as he hardly shoved you against him. Nose pressed against his pelvis, content with the ring of cum and saliva forming at the base of his cock.

Doctor!toji who couldn't make his diagnosis until your mouth was full of him. Loosening his grip on your hair after his final twitch before releasing his load into your now severely bruised throat. As he pulls out, you greet him with a pleading look in your eyes, mouth full of his cum. Earning a smile from him pleased with your appearance. 

Doctor!toji Who told you that he really couldn't be sure where the bruising was coming from. He insisted that the only way to make a clear diagnosis was to go through this same procedure each visit. You both knew exactly what the source of the bruising was. You were just happy to have such a concerned dentist. 

Work of : Paige, do not copy