#her little activation and question mark noises!!!

[staticcatfish]

You Will Look At My Cat

my little Pumpkin baby!!!!!

[wildestdreamsblog]

Might as well be drunk in love: 2 of 2 (sneakpeak)

Pairing: OT7 x Reader (CEO AU)

Summary: In which your friend thought it would be funny to give you a love potion, and in which seven CEOs accidentally drank it.

Warnings: Love Potion, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: This is only a sneakpeak of day 2. I'm not yet done writing the second chapter but I feel bad bcos of how long it's taking me...so here it is! Sneakpeak of day 1. Also, the entire chapter will be posted here when I'm done and satisfied with it :> Enjoy po

Part 1, Full day 1

“No one told me that we have an adorable new housemate.”

The six sleepy men sitting around the dining table looked up as soon as Park Jimin walked entered the room, in his arms was a fluffy cat that was actively hissing at him. He cooed down at it, softly stroking the thick fur with his hand that was now sporting claw marks.

“We’re already so close!” he announced with softness in his voice despite the repetitive kicks brought by the furry creature in his arm.

“I don’t think you are liked very much…” Jungkook quietly commented, his doe eyes went even larger at the bleeding scratches on his skin. As if sensing an opportunity to escape, the cat suddenly wriggled free from Jimin's arms and darted across the room, landing squarely in Hoseok's lap.

“Hi, my son! Did you have a good night’s sleep?” he asked affectionately, reaching down to stroke the cat's fur.

“Hyung has a secret son!” Jungkook whispered to Taehyung in a scandalous manner, clutching his nonexistent pearls. Taehyung, who looked like he lived and fought through three wars from his exhausted form and his sluggish movement only nodded at Jungkook.

“Whose cat is that? Is that yours, J-hope?” Jin asked, pointing at the cat with his mug. He didn’t know that they now had a furry housemate. Additionally, he didn’t know that he was a cat person.

Namjoon just smirked at his brothers, “That’s not his.”

“My God, I am so tired,” Jimin sat next to Taehyung, his muscles aching with exhaustion. With a heavy sigh, he leaned his whole weight on his friend, seeking some semblance of comfort in their shared weariness.

"Everything hurts," Taehyung moaned, mirroring Jimin's sentiment. He glanced over at Namjoon, pleading silently for a solution. "We need her. Hyung, please. Do something," he implored, his voice tinged with desperation.

Jungkook finally put down his spoon with a loud thud, standing up to look at them one by one. “Okay, I cannot be the only one curious about whose cat that is!” he pointed at the cat who only meowed back at him before shifting his finger to his hyung who was silently eating with a smile on his face. “And you, why do you look so good this morning, hyung, while the four of us look like we are 3 hours away from passing away?” he asked Yoongi, his doe eyes demanding answers from the chaotic bunch that only turned more chaotic as the morning wore on.

Yoongi, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee, raised an eyebrow at Jungkook's question. His lips curled into a smirk, revealing a hint of amusement. "Well, Kookie, some of us are just naturally blessed with good genes," he quipped, his tone teasing.

“Excuse me?! Are you saying that I am not blessed with good genes?! Me?! The world wide handsome?! Now, you’re just outright lying!”

“Hyuuuuung, do something! I think I’m dying!” Taehyung shouted amidst the noise.

“Stop screaming you’re scaring my son!” Hoseok shot back all while covering the cat’s little ears.

“Whose cat is that even?!” Jungkook asked again in disbelief, the vein in his throat protruding from annoyance and curiosity.

“Oh my God, Taehyung! I already did something, okay?!” Namjoon finally raised his voice for him to hear.

“Ahhhhhhh, my head hurts and she’s the only cure! I have to go to her!” Jimin whined sadly, attempting to leave his chair slowly.

“In that state?!” Jin shouted at Jimin and Taehyung, already feeling the stress causing havoc on his otherwise beautiful face.

But Taehyung and Jimin were already halfway out of their chair, clutching their heads dramatically. "I can't take this anymore! I need her!" he wailed, his eyes darting around the room with desperation only to find you by some miracle.

“Little one…” he called, his voice small as though he couldn’t believe that you were truly there. It was like their pain manifested you, and heavens, it was worth it. He’d willingly go through this pain if it meant seeing you and having you here where you belonged.

With them.

“Good morning, has anyone seen my cat?”

Your voice, despite it being low, was sufficient to stop the bickering among the CEOs. How they heard you amidst their own noise, you didn’t know. One thing was for certain, though. They were attuned to you like lovesick men did. Their eyes were on you with varying emotions. Jungkook was surprised, to say the least. Taehyung and Jimin, on the other hand, were relieved. Yoongi's smirk widened into a grin, his eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of you. Seokjin stared at you in disbelief, as if trying to comprehend how you managed to appear amidst the chaos. Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions reflecting a sense of contentment and joy. The pair looked like they secured an extremely important deal and even won the lottery at the same day.

You didn’t see Taehyung moved but you certainly felt how his heavy body fell against yours. You certainly heard his sigh of relief even as he swayed on his feet.

And when you touched his hand to support him, that was when he fell.

[bakuettes]

Catch My Drift 🏁 chapter 1

Street racer!bakugo x Street racer!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: cursing, douche bakugo, slight misogyny, alcohol consumption, drug use, illegal activities etc

Kanjozoku; The term Kanjozoku is derived from the combination of the words “kanjo” (meaning ring) and “zoku” (meaning group).

Kanjozoku primarily consists of young car enthusiasts in cities like Osaka and Tokyo who have a passion for speed and a desire to showcase their driving skills.

Osaka was the place to be. Not where tourists go to take pictures and try japanese cuisine, maybe pick up a few souvenirs from the large amount of little gift shops that littered the streets but where a community of young adults with the passion for racing congregate. The night was still young, the sounds of tires screeching against the cold pavement and engines roaring was heard over the heavy base of 2000s club music. Girls dressed in scandalous outfits mingling with the guys posted up next to their pimped out rides. You could practically feel the vibrations of the noise in your head.

Three cars lined up with the drivers sitting on the hoods of their prized possession. A bright orange 1993 Mazda RX-7 FD on the far left. The car’s color was comparable to an orange or maybe even the warm sunsets that would settle over japan. The next car over was a 1993 Toyota Supra Turbo Mark IV. The bright colorful lights that surrounded the meet reflected beautifully off the cars mustard yellow chrome. The third and final car was a looker. Silver 1999 Nissan Skyline GT-R R34 with royal blue detailing along the sides and on the hood. A royal blue flexivity rear wing with matching led lights underneath the body.

It was Bakugo’s baby. Spent years modifying and perfecting it. He was a skilled driver sure but having a car like his? Most would be intimidated to challenge him. “Yo Mina, let’s get this race going!” the orange mazda driver shouted. it was hard to find anyone in this crowd but said woman emerged from the sidelines with a confused look on her face. “Woah woah, wait a second.” She looked around the lot, once overing the lined up vehicles. “where’s your fourth at? i’m counting only three.” mina crossed her arms, unimpressed. the yellow toyota driver spoke up first “it was supposed to be joaquin but he caught the grave yard shift man.”

once you were scheduled to race it was a hassle to find new drivers, the time and place was set in stone. it wasnt that often when scheduled racers were a no show but then again many get caught racing outside of meets or their car needed more time to be repaired. It was a waste of mina’s time. she was the flag girl, not their fucking coordinator. “Na, y’all either find a fourth or you don’t race. How’s that sound? Times ticking boys.”

By standers erupted in shouts of anger and disappointment. they wanted to see a race, most of them drove well over an hour to be here! gas wasn’t cheap and neither was Minas time. Hearing the crowds complaining mina sighed and pitched them an idea. “Alright! i hear you guys, relax. How about this, why don’t i find y’all a driver and we settle this now?” bakugo smirked, nodding in agreement. he never said much but he also never needed to. his aura spoke volumes. “bring ‘em on.” he wasn’t nervous, he knew his talents and was confident. resting the palms of his hands on the hood of his car, he tilted his head towards the other racers, waiting to see hear their answers. “Anyone i want?” mina questioned with a grin that would give the cheshire cat a run for his money. “anybody baby!” orange jululis shouted, raising his arms to the side. cocky bastard. mina rolled her eyes and turned away from the drivers, pulling out her phone from her bra. there was a whole list of people she could call but there was only one person she knew who could end this race quickly.

she could hear the static from the other end of the phone. “y/n, you wanna race tonight?” it was quite for a moment before you spoke in to the speaker “i’m always down, send me your lo.” your voice was smooth like silk but sultry like a vixen. it sounded like you’ve been up for a while so mina didn’t feel bad for calling you so late. she knew you came alive in the night anyway. your energetic friend squealed before gathering herself together. “you got 5 minutes hun!” and then the line went dead.

it never took much convincing to get you out. when mina called you it was 12:15 am, meaning you only had exactly 5 minutes to get there. the meet lot was about 20 minutes out. you arrived there in 4, only a minute left to spare. the sound of you engine had heads turning (a certain blonde as well) as you slowly pulled through the crowd, careful not to hit party-goers. the hot pink body of your 2000 Honda S2000 was hard to miss. everyone knew who was inside and that fact alone made them scream louder. you never really cared too much though, it wasn’t like you had vocals like mariah carey. you didn’t have the ability to move like michael jackson. you were just a damn good racer and that was enough for them apparently.

all three racers turned their heads in the direction of the obnoxiously loud honda, tensing up at the sight. well, all except for one of course. bakugo had no idea why everyone was so fucking hyped. who was that? and why’s everyone acting like they’ve never seen a pink car?? “Racers!” mina yelled excitedly “here’s your fourth!”. your black stiletto boots were the first thing he saw exit the car. then it was a black leather hat. he glanced over at the others to study their reactions and they all had excitement swirling in their eyes. maybe even a hint of nervousness? bakugo didn’t have time to be sure because before he knew it, you were leaning back against the hood of your car crossing one leg over the other. “oh shit, it’s y/n.” you weren’t new to this, you were true to this. the air was crisp and cold, you probably should’ve brought a jacket because this top (if it could even be considered one) with this miniskirt wasn’t doing you no type of favors.

from the corner of your eye you could see a blonde headed man with spikey hair almost looking annoyed as he walked over to mina who was standing in the middle of the road. “no offense but i’m not racing a damn girl. you never said it would be a girl.” you rolled your eyes, who the hell does he think he is? a race is a race. why did it matter who was behind the wheel? you best friend looks beyond over this shit, she’s been annoyed her this whole night and she’s about to lose her patience. “you said anyone i wanted, i wanted her! stand next to your car before nobody races.”

“you scared spikes?” he turned his head to the side, watching you push yourself off the car and strut to the middle where he and mina stood. he sized you up, shamelessly checking you out. “what the hell did you jus call me?” he wasn’t scared. why would bakugo be scared of some princess nobody? “can you even drive with those heels on?” your outfit was impractical he thought. a miniskirt that just barely covered the expanse of your ass (not that he really minded) and what looks like a triangle bikini top. if you were to bend over then— no. now’s not the time to thirst over you. even if he did think you were hot.

“i’m just askin.. why wouldn’t you wanna race me if you weren’t scared?” you’ve dealt with his type before, cocky, thinks they’re better than everyone and so on. he’s got sharp red eyes with a piercing gaze. you let your eyes trail away from his face down to the hardened muscles on his chest. clearly well built and his black tshirt was doing nothing to hide it. “man whatever,” your eyes moved back to his hearing the sound of his voice. “i’m not doin this, find somebody else.” he wasn’t scared, he just felt that he could be using this time to race against someone on his level. why’s it that the egotistical men somehow always find you? you would’ve just let him go but you hated the feeling of being looked down on. he’s no better than you, he doesn’t even know what you have to offer. do you did what you do best, you uped the ante.

“15 grand.” you raised your voice a bit. silence fell over the crowd. “i’ll give you 15 grand if you agree to race tonight and win, that applies to the other racers too” you say to the other two drivers still next to their cars. that made him stop dead in his tracks. were you insane? you’re acting like that’s pocket money. fuck, he doesn’t know if he should do it. he didn’t need the money, but his sister did. he tries to help his mother out the best he can, this would cover at least two months worth of bills. gritting his teeth he turns around starting directly at you “don’t start to regret this when you lose ma.” got ‘em, you thought with shit eating smirk.

you walked past him, shoulder checking the man who’s name you still don’t know. he looked at you, staring at your ass as your skirt rode up with every step you took. you must’ve felt bakugo’s stare because your hands grab them hem of the denim and pull it down, throwing him a flirty smile over your shoulder. the tips of his ears turn a shade of pink. he quickly looks to the side, licking his lips attempting to play it off as if the whole meet did see the interaction. all the racers start getting into there respective cars, starting them up. mina struts to the middle of the street once again only this time with a checkered flag. her brown skin was glowing, the lights reflecting off the body glitter she wore.

“Racers!”

mina exudes confidence. you hand your left hand on the wheel, the other hand tightly gripping on to the gear shift. foot tapping on the gas a bit. you were high off adrenaline, you lived for moments like these.

“Start your engines..”

bakugo couldn’t help but stare at you. the look in your eyes. ‘s like you got off on this, the wicked smile on your lips doing nothing to make him think otherwise. he wasn’t fazed though, he had this in the bag. maybe even after he wins he could take you out but that was something he’d ask later, he needs to focus. the flag drops.

“GO!”.

and you were gone.

𝐀/𝐍!!: okay why was this way harder than i thought? 😭 please bare with me ik im not that advanced in writing. i also don’t know a lot about cars but i research by chapter. lmk how u like it so far and i promise to produce better work as time goes on!

[cottonlemonade]

When You’ve Lost Your Mom

word count: 1195 || avg. reading time: 5 mins

pairing: Tsukishima x gn chubby!Reader (feat. Karasuno Team)

genre: comfort

warnings: grieving your mom

synopsis: the boys are there for you

Tsukki didn’t pay attention. Instead he stared at the empty chair in front of him, twirling a pen in his long fingers as the teacher in front kept going on and on about something he had already understood an hour ago.

A poking finger on his arm brought him back to the present. Yamaguchi nodded in the teacher’s direction who had obviously asked a question and picked Tsukki to answer it, which he did with ease, and then went back to focusing on the chair.

It had been a week since you’d been to school. The few texts he had sent remained unanswered and he wondered if you were sick or mad at him for something. Baka, you should tell him if something was up. He watched a leaf being carried on a breeze outside, annoyed that he had to sit in class without you. Club activities were canceled for today. Maybe he could drop by your place once class was over. As a kind of wellness check, he told himself. But maybe you were avoiding him. But what had he done? He rifled through your last couple of conversations in his mind. He hadn’t treated you any differently, he thought. He had snatched up your cocoa to exchange it for his strawberry milk like he usually did, he had made a comment about the messiness of your locker last week. You had caught him staring a couple of times but none of that was out of the ordinary. Annoyance turned into frustration. And then the bell rang. And so did his phone. Pulling it out from under his desk he felt his heart do a silly little flip when he saw your name on the display and amongst the chattering students ready for their day’s end he picked up.

“Hey, y/n. About time you-”, he stopped when he heard a sob, “Y/n?”

Yamaguchi stood next to him, slowly packing his things.

It was difficult to make out what you said next - he held his other hand to his ear to drown out the noise of the classroom.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Can… could… could you come over, please?”

Out of breath, he rang your doorbell when Yamaguchi, wheezing behind him, closed the garden gate.

A grandmother opened the door.

“Yes, dear?”

Tsukki straightened, inadvertently towering over the small elderly woman in the process.

“Is y/n-san here?”, he asked politely.

“Why yes. Come in, come in. Have some tea, dears.”

The two boys entered and took off their shoes, standing a little awkwardly around in the entryway. He had been to your house a few times in the past to study. At first glance nothing seemed amiss. A bucket of water with a rag and a duster leaning against it, indicated that the grandmother had obviously been in the midst of cleaning.

“Y/n-chan is upstairs, the poor little darling. Terrible thing to lose a mother. I remember when-” Tsukki didn’t let her finish and walked past her upstairs, leaving Yamaguchi to fend for himself.

A little clay sign, decorated with sakura blossoms swirling around your name marked your bedroom. A tray of untouched food, still steaming, was placed in front of it. He picked up the tray and knocked.

A bundle of blankets, shivered slightly as he closed the door behind him.

He had no idea what to do now. Placing the tray on the rather cluttered desk he went over to your bed.

“Y/n.”, he began.

The blanket moved and slowly a face emerged. It was evident you had been crying for quite some time. Tsukki felt weird for thinking that even with your puffy red eyes and nose you were still so pretty to him. He grabbed a packet of tissues from your bedside table, took out a little square and, after hesitating a moment, dabbed some tears away, before clearing his throat and handing the tissue to you.

“Thank you for coming.”, you said. Your voice was hoarse.

“No problem.”, he replied lamely.

Silence fell between you two.

Then you hugged him.

He felt your fingers gripping his shirt and a new wave of tears soaking the fabric.

What would Yamaguchi do?

He hugged you back. Arms tightly wrapping you.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He felt ashamed that this was all he could come up with. “Your mom… I only met her a couple of times but from what you told me she seemed really great.”

More sobs and because he didn’t know what else to do he just stayed quiet, holding you like this.

Tsukki didn’t know how much time had passed when your breathing finally became deeper again. “The granny from downstairs made you some food.”, he kept hugging you as he nodded towards your desk. You looked up and followed his eyes.

“I’m not hungry.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Dunno.”, you mumbled.

“Then, at least have a bite of it. I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll eat with you?”

You raised a squinty brow and let out the first small chuckle you had in days at his awkwardness. Tsukki offered a little smile, glad he seemed to be on the right track. Giving your chubby form one more short squeeze he let go and retrieved the tray, before returning to you and setting it on his knees. You wiped your face on the sleeve of your sweater and looked over the tray. You really weren���t hungry but seeing Tsukki stiffly raise a fork with a speared slice of apple carved into a bunny to your lips made you open your mouth. The sweet tang of the fruit spread on your tongue and you slowly began to eat. Apple bunny after apple bunny was presented to you and when the little plate was cleared, Tsukki dipped a spoon into a bowl of stew. By now you were starving.

Many voices and even some quiet laughter wafted up from downstairs a few minutes later. By now the tray was cleared completely and Tsukki had listened intently to a sweet story you had been telling him about your mom. When a muffled crash sounding like a pot lid hitting the floor was followed by another round of laughter, you two exchanged a look and Tsukki said he’d go investigate. He was pleasantly surprised when you said you’d join him.

As you two headed downstairs you were met by quite a sight.

Yamaguchi, wearing pink long rubber gloves that went up to his elbows and a bandana in his hair, was doing the dishes while Suga expertly stacked mountains of food containers into your fridge. Your father, having obviously come home from work, was in deep conversation with Daichi and Asahi over on the couch. Noya and Tanaka were being instructed in the art of laundry folding by the granny in one corner and Kageyama and Hinata were in a heated discussion about how to properly stack pots and pans into a pantry. From a short glance into the cupboard Tsukki could tell they were both wrong.

But you laughed. You stood next to him holding your stomach, laughing. And Tsukki joined in.

a/n: the person who requested this suggested to upload it in case it could help someone else. I hope you, who are reading this during a hard time, could smile a little at the boys’ antics 🌱

[gingiesworld]

Hi, can you do a Wanda x Male Reader? R is a tattoo artist and wanda is going to get a small tattoo, they both like each other and end up dating. R and Wanda are very sexually active and after sex, Wanda likes to draw R's tattoos with her finger.

Ink and Love

Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings : Smut. Fluff

18+ MINORS DNI

Wanda was walking through town with her best friend and roommate Nat. Soon their eyes found a new shop in town which had never been there before.

"That's new." Nat stated as the two looked inside. Wanda's gaze was upon the guy covered in tattoos, smiling softly at his concentration as he tattooed his client. "Wanda?"

"What?" Wanda was soon snapped out of her thoughts by a smirking Nat.

"You should get a tattoo." Nat told her as Wanda shook her head no. "Go on. Just a small one." Nat pulled her inside with her as the tattoo artist was just finishing up with his current client. The two girls listened as he explained about the after care.

"How can I help you?" He asked once the previous customer had left.

"My friend here wants a small tattoo. It's her first one." Nat told him as Wanda was lost for words.

"Have you got any idea in mind?" He asked Wanda who shook her head no. "Can you talk?" He asked her with a smirk.

"Yes." She squeaked out nervously as Nat coughed to hide a laugh. "I mean yes." She spoke in a more steady voice.

"I guess given how you are dressed, maybe these soft gothic designs are more for you." He gestured for her to look through a book.

"I like this one." She spoke as she pointed at a small red rose.

"Where would you like it?" He asked her. "Sometimes these are placed more under the collarbone by most customers."

"That sounds perfect." She mumbled nervously as Nat decided to leave.

"So if you can just pull your dress down a little bit." He asked her as he got all of his equipment ready before shaving the area from any tiny hair folicles that can ruin the tattoo. Wanda watched as he carefully applied the template before he got the ink and the gun prepared. "So, this is your first tattoo?" He asked her as he started. "This will hurt."

"Yes." Wanda winced as he started the needles. "You're my first." She soon blushed when she tried to correct herself.

"Don't worry darling, I know what you mean." He reassured her, lifting his eyes to her emerald irises. If he didn't have a needle in his hand he would have willingly got lost in the sea of green. "Are you single?" He asked her.

"That's a bit personal isn't it." She chuckled as he smiled at her.

"I know but I need you to answer so I can ask another question." He stated with a smirk as Wanda nodded.

"Yes. I am single." She told him.

"Well, would you like to go on a date with me?" He asked her as she just nodded with a smile. That was just the start of their story. After the third date, he had asked her to be his girlfriend to which she answered by pulling him in by the collar into her apartment. That was the first of many times which had urged Nat to buy herself some noise cancelling headphones.

"Fuck." She moaned as she rode him, her hands on his chest, nails digging into his skin as she neared her climax. Y/N not letting her calm down before flipping her over and chasing down his own high.

"Oh." She moaned lewdly as he bit her collarbone, leaving another mark over the already fading one. He soon reached his orgasm with a grunt as she came once more. He pulled out and collapsed beside her, Wanda instantly laying her head on his chest and tracing the outine of his tattoos on his stomach.

"I love you." He spoke for the first time as he gazed at her, watching as a smile etched it's way onto her face as she kissed him tenderly.

"I love you." She whispered before she noticed a new tattoo on his neck. "When did you get this?"

"A friend of mine done it for me." He told her as she traced the new crown tattoo with her name underneath. "I have known for a while that I love you, I was just scared to say it out loud." He admitted as she cuddled into him. Feeling extremely safe until they heard a knock on her bedroom door.

"Can you please fuck quietly. Some of us are trying to sleep here and live a single boring life!" Nat yelled through the door as the couple just chuckled at her.

[baka-bakeneko]

Breaking It In - River Ward x Female! V

tags: Minors DNI, NSFW, Dominant River Ward, teasing, moving in together, breaking in the new place, kitchen/shower/stairway/pool table/couch/desk/window/chair sex, multiple orgasms, ruined/forced orgasm, sensitivity, foreplay,spanking, aftercare a little, creampie delivery, wrap it before you tap it psa, oral sex, fingering, is it dry humping if you're wet?, all day/ marathoning

wc: 6.96k

synopsis: You've convinced River to move into the Glen with you.

a/n: actively gnawing, frothing at the mouth, banging against the steel bars of my enclosure thinking of this man, i need a mold of him; also sorry Wade, I think River beats you with the marathon (also also mentioning @originalshaynotfound for this idea, it's fantastic)

The Glen apartment; It took an extra bit of working your ass off, but it was worth it. You now had the two sweetest views in all of Night City.

Obviously, the first was River in your bed. With a short amount of convincing, and a little bit of pouting though, you were on your way to have both at once.

River was a bit hesitant to leave Joss behind, especially after Randy, but she was adamant in pushing her brother out of his comfort.

"You gotta change to grow, Riv. Don't pass up a girl like V for mine and the kids' sake. We'll all be here."

River was moving in and, though you wanted to play it totally chill, you were beyond excited. The two of you, Night City's most dangerous couple. In looks and skills, now living under one roof.

You'd cleared half of your shit to the side already: dresser, bathroom counter, bookshelf, desk. It was time for River to make his mark in the new place.

You barely contained your excitement with helping River pack up his things and load them in his truck.

"One more night here then I'm all yours, babe." River said, puckering his lips for a goodnight kiss.

You lifted on your toes and wrapped your arms around his neck, catching his lips as if you'd missed him for months.

"One more night," you repeated, carelessly drawing your legs up to curl around River's waist.

He chuckled against your lips, caressing your hips with his thumbs while cupping your ass.

"Slow down. Otherwise you won't go home," he teased, kissing you again.

You smiled, tilting your hips in his hold to nudge the front of his pants. Still, you coiled yourself tighter against your boyfriend and he held you closer.

Having your fill, you dropped down to your feet and uncurled your arms, parting from his lips last. River bent, following after your lips before standing upright with a groan.

He leaned against the front of his truck, holding his temple as he folded his other hand to adjust his pants. You bit your bottom lip, stashing your pride in a blushing smirk.

"V," River tried, reached a hand out to caress your jaw.

You backed away an inch. "Uh-uh, Riv. I'll see you tomorrow."

River's nose flared, taking a step towards you.

"You can't just tease me like that." He said with a jesting smirk. "I'll see you first thing in the morning."

Your smile grew. "I look forward to it."

-

You were shocked awake by the whirring noise of the elevator. Bolting upright in bed, you saw the pinkish dust over the horizon of Night City; the sun barely peeking over the lowest buildings of the Metro.

Your heart fluttered, tossing your bedsheet away and scurrying out of bed. You took the steps two at a time, picking up your dirty clothes as you went before dropping them at the foot of the steps.

You went to the kitchen to brew some coffee, grabbed a scoop of food for Nibbles then attempted to perch yourself casually on the counter in wait.

The elevator doors slid open with River carrying two boxes in his arms, a worn-down duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Honey, I'm home," River called out, his grin slowly falling to awe as he took in his new living situation. "Whoa. Baby, how'd you get this?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course. He set down the boxes next to the couch, slung his bag down next to them. The elevator doors remained open, with his other boxes still stacked inside.

You stretched out your arms as River approached; he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to the edge of the counter. His eyes raked down your body, taking in your choice of pajamas.

"Mmm, Good morning," River soothed, pressing his body to yours before pecking your lips. "You just wake up?"

You blushed, resting your forehead to his. "When I heard the elevator."

River grinned, his hands caressing the curves of your waist. "We can leave unpacking for later. Why not go back to bed?"

You shook your head, caving into his chest and kissing up his neck to. his jaw. "No, I want you all over this place as soon as possible."

River's grin tweaked suggestively, his brow curling just the same. "You do? All over the place?"

You felt his wave of thought deep in your chest, your hands curling at the nape of his neck.

"Alllll over. As soon as possible." You drew out, and River seemed to catch your drift.

His hold tightened on you, opening your legs to feel the growing hardness in his pants. "I missed you all night, couldn't stay asleep."

You rolled your hips forward, grinding against the seam of River's pants. "Me either. I wish you just came home last night."

River grinned, his hand kneading at your thighs. "Or you could've stayed one more night with me at Joss's."

Leaning in, you nipped at his ear, "But here we can be as loud as we want, baby."

Saying that, you took the straps of your tank and shrugged them off of your shoulders, revealing your breasts. River gulped, looking down at your skin.

He hummed, dragging a hand up your side before taking a handful of your breast. River met your gaze, leaning in to bite a kiss at you. His cybernetic hand dipped between your hips, casually petting at your pussy over your panties.

River's thumb rolled at your nipple, making you lift your hips and arch further into him. He smirked against your lips, releasing a shameless moan from deep in his throat.

You mewled in response, bending further into his whim; River carefully braced the counter with the heel of his metal palm, climbing onto the counter and flattening you against it.

With an expert finger, he hooked into the seat of your panties and tore them down to your knees, actively groaning at your wet pussy.

Your hands at River's neck went for the back of his shirt, actively attempting to tear it over his head. River caught on, grabbing mindlessly at the back of his shirt and ripping it over his head before dropping it to the kitchen floor.

You licked your lips, raising up on your elbows as River fumbled with his belt buckle next. He bent, at the same time, to kiss between your breasts and down to your navel. Hips raising, you moaned at the warm stamps of his lips to your skin.

River nosed at your tank-turned-belt and slid further down to kiss your pussy, but you raised a knee in frustration. He met your gaze, brows quirked in question.

"I need your cock, now," you urged, reaching for the back of River's neck for a starved kiss. So urgent, your tongue darted into his mouth while your legs couldn't help but plant themselves on his waist; your ankles crossed at the small of his back, rolling against him.

River managed to push his pants down, worming his hands between your thighs to grab them. His cock sprang free against your pussy, making you emote into his mouth.

He was captivated by your kiss, pausing in his movements by the way your tongue massaged against his. River angled his tip against your pussy, readying himself to thrust but you took over. Engulfing his length into your pussy, you parted from his kiss with a loud moan, your toes instantly curling.

River followed suit, knowing himself to be utterly whipped by your pussy. He dropped his forehead to your chin, relishing in your throbbing, almost-feverish walls.

He returned to your lips, hands reaching to tangle into your hair. River thrust further into you, making your eyes roll as your lips slipped away from his lock.

He didn't stop, licking at your neck before suckling at your skin. Your hands clutched hard at the back of his neck and shoulders, wanting River to melt over you like butter.

Pulling out an inch, River thrust shortly into you, barely jostling you but causing the friction you craved. You didn't hold back in your appreciation of River giving what you wanted.

"River, River," you moaned in succession, praising him.

You begged for his kiss again by nudging his nose, your face scrunching in ecstasy. River panted against your lips, growling into your kiss and easing back his hips.

Stroking into you again, you broke; breaking away from his kiss as your hips raised in begging want. River's hands gripped at your hips, squeezing at your thighs as he angled himself further into you.

The noises that escaped from you rattled between you two; your hands mindlessly clutched at River's chest, admiring his smattering of chest hair.

That was until River's cock rang that sweet spot within you. You whined, your ankles tightening and cumming through River's thrusts.

River's hips stuttered, slowing to stop himself from cumming. Your walls massaged at his length, practically begging for him to explode inside. A sweat broke out across his shoulders, planting a hand beside your head while he pursed soft breaths before gripping his base and pulling out.

You whimpered, your knees drawing up River's sides as his hot skin dragged out of you. Rolling onto your side, you caught yourself and reveled in the ecstatic wake left behind from your orgasm.

River managed to get off the counter, stepping out of his boots and pants before curling his arm around your waist. "One place down, everywhere else to go, baby."

He held onto you, moving you from the kitchen counter to the pool table. When he set you down, you bent your chest down, presenting while batting away the pool balls into the pockets.

River took that moment to peel your tank top over your ass and legs before discarding it behind him. He smacked at the apple of your ass, letting it reverb through your body before nosing at your pussy.

He stuck his tongue into you, earning a silent moan from you. Your hand mindlessly went for the top of his head, wanting to push his lavish, warm wet tongue further into you. You could feel yourself ready to explode because of it.

Your eyes lolled, River lapping into you with his nose tickling at your ass. You panted, rolling your hips back against his mouth. Your nipples perked against the green felt of the table, wiggling into River to chase after the feeling he'd just given you.

"Fuck me, please, fuck," you begged, dropping your hand from his head and opening your knees.

River chuckled, smacking away from your wet pussy; your juices decorated down his chin as he circled his hands around your hips and pulled you to the edge of the table. You braced the edge, bent directly over it and gasping as River pushed into you again.

Your eyes rolled, the wake from which he'd made you cum reinvigorating. His cock paved into you again, ringing the same places that'd made you cum the first time. Your noises came out pitchy, whining and jostling by his thrusts.

Your hand went out to brace his waist but River took grip of your wrist and held it to your side. He was slow, metering out his strokes to not cum so quickly inside you.

Mewling, you held your face to the table breathing out of your mouth with each pump. "Fuck, Riv."

River growled, circling his hand around your waist to strum at your clit. You squeaked, attempting to squirm away from the extra sensitivity before your boyfriend bent to nip at the skin of your shoulder.

"Come on, Val. Cum on my cock again," he grunted, backing your ass further into his waist.

Your back arched, unable to fight off the increased level of stimulation. Free hand reaching for his waist, you ground into River's cock and found yourself cumming again.

This time, your wet dribbled down your ass and between your thighs, gasping and chest sobbing from overstimulation. River thrusted deep into you, finding the right spot to cum.

He held your hips tight against him, not leaving a single wall inside you unclaimed. River's eyes rolled, heaving to the high ceiling, while savoring your pulsating cunt.

You recovered, slack-jawed, feeling River's cum pool into you. Eyes fluttering at the heat, you imagined him just knocking you up then and there.

"That's two," River whispered, kissing up your back. You grinned back at him, meeting his lips at your shoulder and rolling your hips into him again.

"D-do we take a break?" you asked softly, feeling the need to cool down.

River grinned against your shoulder, shaking his head softly. You gulped, brows raised in question. He slowly pulled out of you, watching with fascination as your pussy produced a trail of his cum.

He licked his lips at the sight, gathering his cum on his middle finger and swirling it between your pussy lips. Your toes curled, the act starting a full body shiver.

When he was done, River raised you over his shoulder and carried you to his next location: your workdesk, which with some modifying, would soon become River's.

He sat you on the edge of the desk, sitting before you in the chair. Leaning back, River took grip of his cock already hardening again.

"Open your legs," he ordered, eyes leveling with yours.

You did as you were told, holding your legs open on the desk and glancing down to see his cum oozing out of you. His warmth puddled around your ass, leaving you decorated and gulping.

"Spread it for me, V." His words pierced through you, catching your heart on your ribs.

Your pussy clenched in response, still following his orders by opening your lips. River's grin was sinful, parting his eyes from yours to envelop the sight of your spent cunt.

He wheeled himself closer, kissing at your clit and earning your twitching knees almost clamped around his head. River lapped down your pussy, gathering his cum to loll on his tongue before spitting back into you.

You gasped, staring down at River sink his cyber middle and ring finger into your pussy while flicking his tongue at your clit. At the same time, he slowly stroked his cock in his other hand.

Your bare chest rose and fell unevenly, fighting the urge to close your knees. River stared up at you from the helm of your pussy, watching your face contort in pleasure.

Brows furrowed, bottom lip quivering as you wiggled in and away from River's mouth and fingers. Your free hand cradled at the base of River's neck, imagining kissing him back just as sloppy as he was eating you.

River seethed into your clit, stroking slower as he got painfully hard. You threw your head back in a spew of moans, no longer able to keep his glare.

Pulling back, River folded his thumb to your clit and growled at you. "Eyes on me, baby. I want to see you cum."

You crooned, leaking more onto the desk as you straightened your head to hold his gaze. Doing so, your toes instantly curled and with River clamping onto your clit again, you came with a new ferocity.

Your pussy clenched with a newer sensation, splashing River's chin with your juices. Petting at the back of his shaved head, you rode against his nose and fingers until his eyes fluttered in response and came in his hand.

"Oh, holy fuck," you gasped, exasperated, dropping your legs off the edge of the desk. "River, goddamn."

River hunched his shoulders forward, catching his breath again and staring up at you from under his brow. "Was that good?"

He stood up slowly, looming over you with a light glean of sweat on his chest.

"Better than," you huffed, grabbing his hips and guiding his still-hard cock into you. You cried into his chest, leaning back to pull him into you.

River's hands cradled your face, watching your face scrunch on a whole new level of pleased. His hips rolled into you, mapping every minute reaction on your face.

Goosebumps grew on your body with River planting himself deep into you again. A new film of sweat decorated your forehead, your hair fully sweated through.

"Can you cum again for me?" River asked against your lips.

Your lips parted to breathe his air, your hands holding his waist and following his languid thrusts. Every movement had your body reacting with new vulnerability.

You pulled River impossibly close, begging silently for his kiss. "I-I don't know if I-I can," you simpered, following River's slow thrusts.

River nudged your nose on both sides, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. "Be my good girl, cum again."

Your knees caught onto River's hips, your hands circling to knead his ass. "S-stay just like that."

He seethed, kissing your cupid's bow then bottom lip individually before catching your mouth. River picked up his thrusts, pistoning his hips seamlessly and making you break into a whimper.

You leaned against River's chest, ready to batter him off of you but finding your edge quickly, cumming a fourth time on your boyfriend's wonder cock.

Your pussy throbbed uncontrollably, leaking more onto River's waist and the floor.

"My very, very good girl," River praised, pulling from your kiss and shutting his eyes to relish in your extra-wet cunt.

He hummed at you, nosing your cheeks, hairline and kissing softly at your forehead. River dropped his hands and curled them around your waist, keeping himself balls-deep inside of you.

You sniveled against his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside of your pussy. "Call me that again."

River smirked at you, moving around to sit on the couch, you in his lap. "My very, very good girl." He rolled your hips on his cock, making you croon.

"I love that look on your face, V, when my cock hits deep," River confided, kneading at your thighs.

Your hands braced River's thick shoulders, then hugged him close while crying against his mouth.

"It's so good, Riv. Oh god, oh fuck," you simpered, your spent cunt gripping tighter at River's cock.

It almost felt like another orgasm growing, your knees gelatinous and unable to stabilize yourself.

River's hands skirted up your body before finally holding your face again. "Maybe you need a break."

Your eyes fluttered, moaning into his mouth but nodding. River pulled you off of his cock then threw you over his shoulder to carry upstairs.

Your knees clenched together, the jostling making your pussy react. River playfully spanked your ass, rounding the stairs to the landing then further to the bedroom.

He tossed you onto the bed, watching your body bounce. Your legs splaying open, breasts jiggling, River grunted affirmatively and climbed onto the bed after you.

"I can barely keep my hands off you, V," River muttered, grabbing you and curling you into him.

He cuddled you close, working his shoulders into the mattress to get comfortable. You nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, your body weighing down from ecstasy.

River brushed your sweaty hair away from your forehead, bending to peck your hairline. "We'll pick up when you have the energy."

You hummed in agreement, curling your leg around his waist. River ran his hand down your back, holding your ass closer to him.

-

You woke up, barely half an hour later, nuzzling your face against River. Your arms draped around him, you raised your chin to look down at him. He grinned, tilting his head up.

His hands cupped at your ass, your legs straddled over his waist. "Even in your sleep, you can't keep your hands off of me."

You flopped your forehead against his chest. "Shut up."

River squeezed at your body appreciatively, laughing with you. "It's cute, at least I know you like me."

"More than that," you responded, raising up to peck his skin.

River hummed, bending his neck to sniff the top of your head. He kissed there, shifting you to acknowledge his stiffened cock rested just beneath your waist. "How 'bout round two?"

You crooned, sitting up on River's chest, unable to hide your deviant grin. "Let's break it all in."

River's brows leveled, his eyes lighting with something salacious. You lifted your knee, grabbing his throbbing length and angling it up to your pussy.

Upon grazing his tip against you, your nipples perked and a new shudder went through your body. Your pussy reacted with a flutter, holding your lips open to sink down on him.

An errant cry escaped you with taking in River's full length. His hands ghosted down your hips, cradling your thighs before slipping to the backs of your knees.

He garnered the look on your face, the minute pleasure that wracked through your body upon insertion. He licked at his top lip then folded his bottom lip between his teeth.

River couldn't help his own reaction, a groan escaping from behind his lips. Your hands braced his stomach, admiring the divots of his muscle before readying your knees.

You raised up, the slow drag of River leaving you making you gasp in awe. When you reached the tip, you reversed back down to him, driving both of you to whine.

Bracing your knees, you picked up your pace a bit, riding your boyfriend into the mattress. River's cyber hand offered a spank to the fleshiest part of your ass, growling intently at the jiggle that followed.

He thought of devouring you again, mouth readily watering to sink his nose in your pussy again. Lifting his hips, he met your meter and fucked you harder.

Your hand at his stomach went up to his chest, your face scrunched. It was way too soon, but the warmth grew from your pussy and up your back before blooming through your stomach. Folding against River, you moaned and mewed against his skin as you came.

Your hand reached back to keep River's cock angled into you, pumping through your orgasm. Your pussy pulsed around his hot cock, wiggling and groaning in its euphoric wake.

"Keep going," you grizzled against River's chest, trying to pull yourself upright again.

River fought through the heated core of your pussy, now a whole new level of inviting. He ran his hand up your side, catching your wrist at his chest and kissing the meat of your palm.

Still he fucked into you, already a broken mess, and stuttered his hips to cum. He stilled, holding his hips into you and emptying his balls into your begging cunt.

You gasped at the sensation, the heated gush into you making you break into a sweat. Chin rested in the middle of River's ribs, you met his gaze and flashed a lazy smile.

He narrowed his eye at you, sitting up and cradling you against him. River barely basked in the warm afterglow, only carried you to the bathroom.

Your arms curled around his neck, you writhed on his still-hard cock and readily waited for the next destination. River stepped into the golden shower stall, carefully letting you off of him.

His cum leaked from your pussy, slathering down your ass and between your thighs as he slammed the shower button with his cyber hand.

River held onto his cock at the base, leaning back into the spray to wet his head and shoulders. You stood by, the off-spray hitting you while you watched, mesmerized, the rivulets that trailed down your boyfriend's sculpted body.

Leaning in, you raised up and slurped some of the water from River's clavicle while your hands roamed around his slickened body. River looked down at you, waiting for you to meet his gaze before kissing him.

Parting from him, you mapped soft kisses down his neck and chest then further to his stomach and waist before kneeling before his cock.

With his hand grasped at his base, you kissed his tip. River stared down at you, reacting with heavy exhale. Staring up at him, you opened your mouth to take him in.

Your tongue rolled out of your mouth, you edged River's twitching cock in and his tip rang at the back of your throat. Taking a moment to adjust, you readily exhaled through your nose.

At the same time, your free hand roamed down to your pussy and sank two fingers in. River watched you take him in, fingering yourself, his chest puffing.

You moaned against his cock, the vibrations making him groan. The two at the same time, you felt your pussy aching for River again.

River snarled, already sensitive from cumming once. He measured his breathing, trying to not explode in your mouth no matter how hard you tried.

You worked on his cock, bobbing in and pulling off of him to swirl your tongue around his tip; Pulling a whine from River's throat, you felt yourself get wetter from the sound as you pumped your fingers.

River's shoulders shuddered, finally giving in to your efforts and cumming deep in your throat. He groaned, his noises echoing against the gold stall of the shower.

Your nipples hardened at the sound that escaped your boyfriend, driving you to want to mount him again. His cum shot in the back of your throat, hot and gooey, the faint salt of him making you thirsty.

You gulped at the tip of his cock, milking the last of his essence dry before River scoffed in disbelief and playfully pushed you off of him.

You giggled against his palm, leaning back to grin at him with your mouth still full of cum. River looked down at you, ready to pounce, but helped you back to your feet and ran his thumb over your mouth to clean his cum off of you.

"You are so fucking sexy," River praised, his thumb dragging your bottom lip down as you swallowed his essence.

You hummed, leaning into his slick body as he spun you two around. The two of you shared the spray of the water while River caught your lips in a deep kiss; he reached for your thigh, pulling your knee up to brace his waist.

He pushed into you, pressing your back to the cool slate of the shower. You sighed into his mouth, the tang of your essence still on his taste. Biting away in slight disgust of yourself, River made up for your distance ready to scour your dirty mouth with his tongue.

His hand traced up and down your thigh, silently appreciating the sculpt of your body, how you fit into his hands. His cyber hand clasped your jaw, captivating as much of you in his hold at once.

"I love you, baby," River parted from your mouth to catch his breath.

He stood in the spray, letting his bottom lip catch the water as it traveled down his face. There was never going to be a moment you'd tire of looking at him.

You circled your arms around his neck and jumped onto his waist, crossing your legs around him. "I love you more. Missed you still."

River blushed at you, unable to help the healthy grin he offered. "Not anymore, I'm right here with you."

His arms braced your thighs, easily holding you up. Your hands smushed at his cheeks, pecking his pouty lips before begging his kiss again.

He obliged you, carrying you out of the shower and to the bathroom counter. You sat your ass on the counter, sliding back down to your feet; River took that moment to spin you by your waist and bend you over the sink.

You giggled amorously, feeling his shaft stiffen between your thighs. "Don't want to miss a spot, huh?"

River heartily laughed, bending to pepper your back with kisses. He licked the drops of water from your skin before nudging your ear with his nose. "You know me, V. I'm thorough."

That made your pussy tense again, eyes rolling at the thought of being used again. River spared no time working your wetness with his middle and ring finger before parting your lips and sinking into you.

You moaned against the clouded glass of the mirror, the condensation building with the steam of your shower. River braced his cyber hand on your waist, backing you rhythmically into him; while his other hand reached out and touched the mirror glass, revealing the sight of him stood aggressively behind you.

Your eyes caught onto his reflection, staring at his focus on your ass; the water on his skin dewing with his building sweat. You pulled your bottom lip in and shivered at the sound fucking he was giving.

River's eyes glanced up from under his brow, catching your eyes on him. He thrusted a bit harder into you, earning your knees buckling, then winked and continued.

You bowed your head down, already close again but River's hand smacked your ass; his fingers found their way into your hair, combing up from the nape before tugging gently and making you whimper in delight.

"Eyes on me, baby," River ordered, his voice a sultry rasp.

You did as you were told, licking your lips and meeting his eyes in the mirror. His feather necklace decorated just along his clavicle swiveled with his thrusts, swinging in the area of his gorgeous chest hair.

Your lovestruck eyes met with River's, your body melting at his piercing gaze. You forced your knees together, a hand going out to brace his waist for pause as you came undone again.

His cock felt thicker with pulsing around it, your pussy dribbling onto his waist and between your thighs. You kept your eyes on him, mouth agape as you moaned incoherent praise for his undoing.

River's hand in your hair tightened a tad, slowing his pace to not overdo himself. He seethed between his teeth, admiring the muscled throb of your pussy on his length. If it were up to him, he'd make your pussy his new home.

He practically was.

-

After shutting off the shower, River carried you out of the bathroom and downstairs. Thankfully, he understood that your legs would be useless for a bit.

Your knees were magnetized together, riding out the last of your orgasm with your still-spasming pussy. Hands bracing his bare back, you teasingly spanked him just as he had to you.

He laughed, looking over his shoulder in the direction of you before jostling you on his shoulder.

"That's cute, V," he said, rounding the landing and walking down to the first floor.

You beamed cheekily, offering a pinch to his tanned ass cheek as he surveyed the apartment. Crossing the living room, he set you on your feet before the window by the extra large television.

"Hands on the glass," he said, bending over you to force your hands to the glass. River pressed into you in a way that pressed your breasts to the tepid glass, your pert nipples greeted with a chill. "Don't look down."

He tenderly bit your earlobe then disappeared behind you. You half-expected his cock to pave into you again, the throb of your pussy almost second nature at this point with him.

But it was his tongue that lined down your lips, curling to tickle your clit.

"Ohh." You pressed your forehead to the glass, shutting your eyes from staring out at the mid-morning skyline of Night City.

You weren't going to look down, not that you had a thing for heights, but just as River told you not to. His nose swiped between your lips, earning your foot raising. It almost tickled, but way deep in your core.

His tongue backtracked, lining up to your entrance before sinking in. River's lips moved in effort with his tongue, having you squirming against his muscle embedded deep in you.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," you muttered against the glass, tilting your hips out to earn more of the heavy, hot, warm, wet feeling of your boyfriend's mouth.

At the same time, River's cyber hand pressed to your clit with his middle finger tapping at such a speed to meet his tongue lapping your walls.

You decided to ready yourself with God, if he was there, because you were about to see a whole new light. River's cock took you there every time, but his mouth almost kept you there.

You broke into a pant against the glass, nipples almost hard enough to cut through the glass of your bird's eye apartment. Trying to last just for the sensation almost wasn't worth the euphoria that would tear through you.

Your hands stood on your fingertips, wanting to pull away to shove River's poor face further into your ass so you could have more of his fucking tongue.

River noised while clamped to your pussy and involuntarily earned your orgasm. Your knees forced together, moaning against the glass and close to crumbling though River held you up.

He felt your cunt gush into his mouth, a new wave of wetness to paint his chin with your juices. River could barely contain his smile, slowly pulling his tongue back and earning more of your whimpers from doing so.

You slid down the window glass, your knees finally bracing the floor as you hid your face in your forearm to catch yourself. It was still too good, wracking with the last remnants of your other orgasm and actively making your brain melt.

Why no sex all time? If sex this good, why work? If River cock make see stars, why leave bed?

You were trying to regain some sense of sanity. This was just breaking it in together. There would be so many more instances like this. Your excited, yet utterly spent, pussy was fluttering with excitement.

River would be here everyday, and God knows you two never tired of each other.

River sat back on his knees, watching you writhe and shiver from this one; he grabbed your ankle and pulled you across the floor to him.

"V, you okay?"

Rolling onto your back, you stared at the ceiling; taking in the fresh air, you grinned lazily and nodded. "Better than. Fucking hell, that's so not fair."

River smirked, pulling your legs to drape over his lap; he ignored his cock already raising again from your beautiful noises, only ran his hands up and down your thighs comfortingly. "What's not?"

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your face. Your chest held a butterfly-light flutter, as if now ready for the next orgasm you'd rip through.

You thought about how many times you'd come in the last two hours. Seven times. The thought alone made you start spinning.

Thinking about how many times River came in that same span made your stomach feel oily inside. Even with a quick recovery, you were slacking on making him cum so hard he saw stars.

River waited for your answer, bending over you to peel your arms away from your face. He hovered just above you, an absolute angel and delight. "What's not, babe?"

Your brows furrowed, wanting to be upset but only appreciating his beautiful voice, how soft he could be. "I want to make you cum again."

River showed his teeth, laughing down at you. "I'm good, you're already right on track."

You shook your head, determined; pulling him a little closer to you, you narrowed your eyes. "No, I will make you cum again."

"I bet on it," River offered in response, still not gleaning your idea of fair share. "You're doing great so far."

You tittered, caressing his face while your other hand reached down for his cock. "I can make it better."

Your grip caused River to jolt above you, his eye widening. Before he could say anything, you started stroking his twitching length.

He huffed against your lips, keeping your gaze while you worked your hand in steady, long stroked around his cock. You felt yourself getting worked up again at the thought, but bit it back.

This was River appreciation right now. You parted your lips to match his, offering your mouth for his kiss if he wanted. Your hand was a mediocre impasse, seeing as your pussy was mere inches away weeping to be used again.

But this was just to focus on him. You wanted his pleasure, you wanted to see it wash over his handsome face and for you to bask in it.

And you kinda wanted his cum to splatter on your pussy, effectively claiming it as his even though it wasn't necessary.

River bowed into you, his stomach bracing yours as his forearms planted on either side of your face. "V."

"I know, baby. I want you to cum on me," you pleaded, puffing your chest to press your breasts against him. "I want you to sign your name in it. Make me all yours, Riv."

River's puffed air from his open mouth onto yours. He bit back a snarl, crashing into your lips and moaning into you. Your fingers played at his hot tip then worked back down, feeling the veins in his cock roll and tense until he finally came.

He exploded against your clit, your wrist, and into your navel. His body shivered in pleasure, his noises traveling down your throat and making your chest feel even lighter.

It felt good, bringing him to ecstasy. No, it felt euphoric itself; you could've cum from experiencing it.

He bit at your bottom lip while pulling away, gathering his cum from your stomach and clit then fingering it back into you. "Only you make me do that. It's always gonna be you. I'm all yours."

You playfully chomped your teeth in the direction of his nose. You thought of having this man for every meal, especially dessert. You'd have a slice of him with coffee for breakfast, twice in bed before you'd go to sleep.

The possibilities were endless. You acknowleged him by bringing him in and shoving your tongue in his mouth, rolling on top of him on the white fur rug of the living room.

Now you were realizing what was missing from this apartment. A fireplace.

That would've been the next place you'd have had River fuck you. Maybe turning on a video of a fireplace would suffice, but maybe later. You needed him again, even though he was right under you, caressing and squeezing your body as if you'd evaporate into thin air.

"Fuck me in the library," you breathed out, parting from his delectable lips.

River nodded, as if receiving work orders, then sprung into action to carry you there.

-

The very last place to christen, River sat in the book nook chair and pulled you into his lap. "Let me try something with you."

You followed his silent lead, bringing your knees up to brace the chair as River lined you up to sit on his cock; one of his hands crossed to your breast, already playing with your nipple as his cyber hand went to hold your pussy open.

He curled your arm around the back of his neck to suction his mouth to your nipple at the same time you sank onto his cock.

A new whimper escaped you, leaning into River to moan at the ceiling. All of it at once felt too overstimulating, you were sure you were going to explode upon insertion.

You were a withering mess on River's lap, rolling your hips as his fingers rubbed in soft circles. His tongue softly rounded your nipple, pinching your other between his fingers.

"River," you curled your hand to brace his temple, staring at him suckling your breast into his mouth.

His length twitched inside of you, meeting with your throbbing walls and earning a few moans between the two of you. Your eyes shut, attempting to breathe easily though your body was gaining in heat.

River's body under you, his warmth bringing a new film of sweat. It was almost instantaneous, unfair, cumming on his cock and writhing over him.

His fingers pinched a bit harder at your pert nipple, his teeth lining around your other. Scrubbing your clit, River kept going as it cut through your orgasm. It was short-lived, bringing on a new wake of heat and making you writhe further.

Your body broke into goosebumps, toes curling as a whole new sensation rushed through you on the back end of your orgasm. Your pussy clenched harder around River's cock, finding it throb outward as you wet your boyfriend's lap and the insides of your thighs.

You collapsed against River, the new rush drawing more energy from you. Chest light and full of flutter, you begged River to let you go at least.

RIver obliged with your nipple, leaving a few soft teeth indents on your breast before finally stilling his cock inside of you just enjoying the massage of your pussy.

He ducked his face behind your shoulder, pulling you further into his hold to ease you from the heightened sensitivity. "Anywhere else, baby?"

You laughed dryly, turning on his shoulder to kiss his cheek. "I'm sure we'll find a new place soon enough."

River grinned against your skin, opting to check the time from the clock on the book shelf. "Wanna get some lunch?"

"Order in? I don't think I'll be walking for a minute," you winced, feeling your knees reduced to gelatin.

"Sounds great to me, I want you glued to my side in that bed. It's calling my name." River nudged your nose then pecked your lips.

"Good, because that's all I was thinking about. Carry me?"

River shifted in his seat, pulling you off of him then shifting you over his shoulder. "Already there."

[ominoose]

𝐂𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

Pairing: Jake Lockley x AFAB!Autistic!Reader Summary: Short fluff self-insert with Jake because fandoms gotta become cringe again. Also shout out to Bigfoot enjoyers! Warnings: None WC: 779

“And so like, they weren’t even just screaming, they were vocalising! Phonetically they were forming words, like there was cadence to it, y’know?!”

“Mh hm.” Jake nodded, nursing the coffee mug in his hand, watching the short woman pace back and forth across the kitchen, her own cup of tea completely forgotten and abandoned on the table like many others over the ages. Poor things.

“And- And the University of Wyoming studied the recordings for a year! And guess what!”

The man was an expert at this, and knew well the question was rhetorical, there wouldn’t be enough time to actually get a ‘What?’ in there. Instead, he widened his eyes a little as he took another sip of bitter coffee, waiting expectantly for the next revelation.

“They said the noises were from lungs that were larger in capacity than humans! And it was an actual deliberate language!” The huge grin, wide eyes and shaking of her hands marked the clear importance of the sentence, this was not a finding to be taken lightly.

“No way.”

Coming home from a late shift in the cab, Jake usually would’ve poured a glass of whiskey, kicked off his shoes, loosened his tie and claimed the couch to binge some shitty reality tv. Sue him, it was entertaining to be invested in drama that was less world ending over godly feuds and more Becky's boyfriend kissing her ex. If his girl came to sit beside him and let him use her thighs as a stress toy, it was the recipe for a perfect night.

When he came home tonight to see his beautiful girl practically bouncing on her toes, hands stimming, actively chewing back a smile and practically bursting at the seams with some hot info instead, how could he not walk over and get his fill? After all, she info-dumped with more passion than any gossip the Kardashians could give. As her man, it was his solemn duty to share her burdens, even if that burden was her excitement over some Bigfoot evidence from some random American woods.

“I also heard that the area the sounds were recorded historically had a lot of Chinese settlers- and the vocalisations have a large resemblance to Mandarin! I mean that, like, implies the Bigfoot community only either cropped up at that period or something but, like, it’s still insane I mean can you imagine we haven’t encountered Bigfoot yet because they all speak Chinese and can’t understand us?” How she spewed so much without taking a single breath was a mystery in and of itself, those crypto-whatsits oughta look into that.

“Who’s ‘we’, bebita? There’s only one American in this room and that’s me. Stop trying to steal my guy.”

“Your guy?” The smile on her face grew, adoring that he entertained her info-dumps and enamored with his cheek, “Since when did Bigfoot go to New York?”

The Latino shrugged, completely nonchalant as he drained the last of his coffee.

“When he calls my cab to take him there.” The curl of his lips betrayed his own amusement and the short woman giggled as she bounced into his lap, hands patting his shoulders.

Stimming was still a relatively new concept to Jake. To him, he understood it as needing to shake off big feelings, good or bad, before they drowned you. He could understand that, feelings were a fuckin’ lot even to him, and he didn’t have autism (no matter how much his amor tried to peer review him, he’d dodge those accusations like he dodged the Avengers).

Seeing her stim to him, with him, over him, that was intimate. That coiled into his very soul, snug and warm. Knowing her feelings for him were so strong, so intense she had to literally, physically, manage them before they made her heart explode? It was literally impossible for the thoughts in his head to try and do some self-sabotage. No one could tell him she didn’t love him, not even himself.

That wasn’t even accounting for the obvious fact that she felt safe enough to shake her heart around right in front of him, with that beautiful smile too. She’d kill him before any bullet or cultist ever could, and he’d accept it with open arms.

“You think that Mothman guy and Bigfoot are amigos? Think they’ve ever hooked up?”

The light in her eyes when he casually sprinkled her other hyper-fixation in there, always making a point of showing he remembered each and every detail of her spiels, could lead him out of the darkest black hole.

“You’re weird, Jake Lockley.” Her giggle was girlish, high pitched and sweet as honey, “They’re divorced, actually.”

[agent-cupcake]

Trouble Man

This marks my third completed commissioned fic! I may have gone a little far in places, added some unnecessary flourishes... Either way, thank you to the person who commissioned this (and all of you) for being so patient with me!

Pairing: Arkhamverse Jason Todd x f!reader

Synopsis: After a chance meeting late one night while Jason—the Arkham Knight—is playing civilian, he develops a bit of a crush. Months later, after the events of the base game, your unfortunate involvement in a crime requires a visit from Red Hood to coax out some honest answers.

Warnings: explicit smut, dubcon, murder ment., stalking, angst, gun kink, rough sex, possessive behavior

Notes: I must give a big girthy thanks to my sweet muse and local DC expert for her help on this, it wouldn't exist without her help. It's also important to recommend you all watch clips from Arkham Knight - Red Hood because the delivery of his oneliners are absolute gold. Jason Todd has definitely risen to the upper echelon of tragic men in my life, he's worth your attention.

Word Count: 17k

I.

Dry leaves crackled like paper through the breeze, tumbling over brown grass and grinding beneath your feet as you walked through the park, hands shoved deep into your pockets and head down. Their colors had changed as the trees shed, creating a sea of red and orange and yellow paste over the sidewalk. 

You thought walking home instead of taking the subway would help. Walking was what people did to think, to contemplate their life and their future, to pace out the excess energy that came with stress. But the autumn sun was bright and cold. A storm threatened the horizon in smeared shades of mean dark gray. The air stank of rotting foliage and filth. With each breath, you suffocated on it, choking on smog and the sour scent of Gotham’s streets, choking on the rising tide of existential dread, choking on this looming fear of something you knew existed yet couldn’t quite see.

The question of what you were going to do echoed in the back of your mind, even if the answer was decided. Because it was unfair, because you were scared. All you could think about were the shiny reporters on the television gleefully claiming that crime rates had fallen, that Batman had cleaned up the city, that everyone was saved. It was funny to think that you got this job with the idea that you could turn your life around, a small step towards salvaging your life. Who would have thought anything would be wrong with a place called something as dumb as the Palace of Pies? 

What a fine mess it all was. Your head ached, your throat swollen with angry tears and a frustrating, primal need to excise the tempest of emotions you crushed down. Idly, you wondered what would happen if you were to stop in your tracks and begin screaming. Would anyone look? Would anyone stop and ask what was the matter? You didn’t think so. People would step around you, avoiding eye contact. That’s what you would do. Everything in the city, if not trying to actively harm you, was passively hostile. Looking beyond yourself was how you got hurt. Being surrounded by people only made you more aware of how alone you were, how aggressive isolation en masse could be. 

With the weather turning so quickly, few people lingered in the park, merely passing through on their way to or from something. Always going, moving, acting with purpose and a destination, paying no mind to the changing season. When you were younger, you loved the fall. Back when costumes were saved for Halloween and horror was strictly contained to the scary movies you watched without your parent’s permission. Who needed a creepy corn maze or haunted house when you had the privilege of living in Gotham City? 

You breathed out, trying to exhale those thoughts. Trying to think. Clearly, for once, although it was hard when you never got enough sleep, when you never had any space to seek clarity. Gotham was a place without peace. You could never find solace away from the people and the noise and the claustrophobic streets and decaying walls that seemed to close in the longer you stayed. It was inescapable, no matter where you were. The breeze churned up all manner of unsavory smells, carrying the sound of people talking and dogs barking and cars honking, cluttering your senses. It was never quiet, never clean, never calm, never safe. Just last week, a woman had been brutally stabbed to death only a half mile away from the path you were on. Her dog too. Part of you feared stories like that, knowing it could just as easily happen to you. Part of you didn’t care, really. So what if it did. 

And yet, the plastic newswoman cried with religious fervor, crime was down. Thank God for that. 

When you got down, you knew quite surely that you would die here. The city that once held the sparkling allure of hopes and dreams and promise, a life grander than you could have in a small town upstate, turned out to be nothing more than a slaughterhouse. 

These days, these terrible, sentimental days, you could imagine it. Dialing the numbers—you knew they wouldn’t have changed, even after all this time, nothing ever changed there—and holding the phone up to your ear with a clammy hand, hearing her voice for the first time in years.

“Hey mom.” You would sound sheepish, your voice up a few halftones to mimic the girlish sound you had before you left. “It’s me. It’s been a while. I know, I’m sorry. I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m—”

You wouldn’t. You couldn’t. Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was mercy. Mostly it was just pride. Anger. This was the bed you made and you could hate yourself and you could hate the man who sold you pretty lies and you could hate the wretched city and you could hate your dead end job working for an obvious criminal but you could hate them too, if nothing else then just to try and cope with it all. 

You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets and lowered your head to brace against the wind. A storm was going to hit soon. 

II.

The rattling thunder was what snapped you alert, the metal shelves lined with plastic bottles and boxes of toilet paper trembling with the force of it. You’d meant to take a short break, but somehow you had managed to doze off sitting on an upturned bucket in the back room, leaning against the wall amidst cleaning supplies with your eyes closed and mind wandering far away, lulled by the sound of rain on the roof. Thinking of home, of the wind knocking the pale limbs of aspen trees against your window as gentler storms passed through the town, watching lightning from your bed and hiding beneath the covers at the thunder. 

Annoyed with yourself, you stood up, grabbed the napkins, and returned to the front of the house to do your table rounds before you got in trouble. 

Nobody really seemed to care either way. The few customers that had trudged into the inauthentically kitschy restaurant at such a late hour were soaked and cold and cranky and addled by some substance or another. Despite the attempts to cheer the place up with warm lighting and friendly decor, the whole restaurant had a dour atmosphere. Dark, miserable, heavy with the kind of mundane tragedy that carried the careers of famous poets. It seemed as if, no matter how bright the lights shined, they couldn’t fight off the creeping shadows of Gotham. 

In other words, it was a normal night for you. Too many hours on your feet, too much caffeine, too few full nights of rest. Nobody else wanted the late shift waiting tables in city like this and it wasn’t like you blamed them—God only knew that you didn’t want to be here either—but you were too strapped for cash to be picky. In a way, you imagined your brain was attempting to help you by conjuring fantasies of better times. But happy memories only got more and more sour with age, the highs casting the lows in thicker shadow. 

Better not to think of it. Your shift was almost done. Just get the night over with, and then the day would be over. You didn’t think of what came after that, didn’t dare to consider tomorrow. Short term goals were easier to handle, easier to stomach. Nothing else was worth thinking about.  

It was almost fate, if you were the type to believe in such things. You were looking for a distraction from your thoughts and he showed up as the clock’s little hand neared twelve and you knew immediately that he was different. Despite the downpour, he had no umbrella. What he did have was a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, the fabric soaked through and clinging to his torso, and an aura of disquiet, obviously unlike the hungry stoners and the late workers and the otherwise normal folks who came in. A chill and trail of rainwater chased him inside to where he sat at the counter, empty red vinyl barstools surrounding him on both sides. Different wasn’t good or bad, necessarily. If he was the type to make trouble, the cook, a guy you knew only as Ace, would scare him off with his 32. Different was, at the very least, distracting. You put on a smile and rounded the counter. 

“How are you doing tonight?” you asked in a serviceably friendly voice as you took the pot of coffee from the warmer and poured him a cup. 

His eyes were lucid enough, at least enough that you didn’t think he was on drugs. The two of you sized each other up for a moment before he gave you an ironic half smile that clearly asked ‘how do you think I’m doing?’ Which was fair. Close up, you could see that he had a developing bruise right on his cheekbone, although the more striking feature was the mark on the opposite cheek. It looked like the letter J had been carved into the skin. An old wound, the skin pale and puckered with scar tissue. Best guess, it was a gang thing. That was part and parcel for Gotham, and especially for the Palace. 

But, bruise and scars and all, that sarcastic little grin was attractive. He wasn’t exactly tall, dark, and handsome, but whatever the more menacing equivalent was. 

“Wet,” was all he said after a long moment, his tone ironically dry.

You reached under the counter to grab a clean towel, sliding it over to him. He eyed it suspiciously. “Might help a little,” you explained. He didn’t look convinced, but there was no way he wasn’t cold. You felt cold just looking at him. “Come on, you’re dripping everywhere as is,” you told him with a huff, gesturing to the water he’d tracked in. It was too late to fix now, but watching him literally drip rain water was just a touch too melodramatically sad even for you. 

Hesitating, he looked down and behind himself at the puddles that had followed him inside. While he didn’t have the grace to so much as pretend to be apologetic, he did accept your offer and began toweling off his hair. It was dark and cut short, save for the bangs that were a stark white. Was that a gang thing too? It worked, oddly. Or, he was odd and it worked. 

“Anyway,” you said, reverting to your patented professional tone to cover the fact that you had been staring. “Can I get you started with something to drink?” 

“Just coffee’s fine,” he told you, tossing the towel back onto the counter and running a hand through his semi-dried hair to keep it pushed back. Despite your best attempts at professionalism, your eyes tracked the motion. He was wearing gloves. Probably to hide a set of bruised knuckles, a person didn’t catch a shiner like that playing nice.

"Do you have any questions about the menu?” you asked. “Tonight's special is-"

"Yeah, I’ll have that.”  

Considering he hadn’t so much as glanced at the menu or let you finish the pitch, his eyes scanning the restaurant with a restlessly critical look, you doubted he even knew what he was ordering. Maybe he didn’t care. 

“Alright,” you said. “Anything else?” 

“Nope,” he said, finally looking back at you. His eyes were pretty, even bloodshot and shadowed with exhaustion. Blue, lined with thick black lashes that still sparkled with rain whenever he blinked. 

“If you need anything else,” you told him, “just let me know.” 

“Will do.” 

Quickly scribbling the order onto your pad, you slid it across the window to Ace in exchange for finished meals and did your rounds. Table seven got their hash browns, over easy eggs, and chicken tenders. Table five got their big pieces of banana pie. All the while, you couldn't help but feel that the man at the counter was watching you. He probably wasn’t. Or maybe he was. Not that you actually, really cared that much either way. You didn’t want to check though, just in case. 

When you returned to the window between the kitchen to drop off the dishes, you saw the Ace was gone. Probably for another cigarette break. Of course. The man’s addiction to nicotine was astounding. But he wouldn’t be punished for it, even if you complained. The quality of his work was unimportant, he was a part of it. Whatever Mr. Anthony’s real business was, Ace was his guy. 

You grabbed the chicken fried steak meal—the day's special—and delivered it to the mysterious customer at the counter. He eyed the food hungrily, barely responding to your offer of “If you need anything else…” before digging in. 

The clock said you had forty five or so minutes before closing, which meant an hour or more left. You could do another hour. Another two hours, if you were being realistic. But you rounded down, it was easier to handle that way. Refilling drinks, cleaning up tables, sweeping the floors, you did these things on autopilot. Table five, a pair of young junkies you were decently familiar with by now, finished their meal and paid. You checked them out with a smile all of you knew was fake, taking their lack of tip with a brave face. 

The door opened with a little burst of rain washing over the threshold as they left, the sound of it pounding against the blacktop abrasively loud. Even if you knew it wasn’t actually a fact, you didn’t think it ever stopped raining in Gotham, as if God himself was trying to wash the city away in some form of biblical vengeance. 

“I was surprised to see a place like this open this time of night,” the man at the counter said. You jumped a little at the sound of his voice, turning away from the register with the uncomfortable realization that he had most definitely been staring, at least just now. He didn’t try to hide it either, his elbows propped up on the counter and head tilted at a slight angle. His plate was almost empty, which made sense considering the ferocity with which he’d been eating.

“Yep, we’re open till one,” you said, trying not to seem flustered. 

“Don’t you think it's a little dangerous to be working so late?” he asked. It was difficult to read his tone. Not quite a warning, but not a joke either. “Gotham’s not a very nice place.”

You shrugged. “This area isn’t that dangerous.” 

“And after you leave?” 

Once again, you couldn’t place his tone. You didn’t want to automatically think the worst of the man, but you weren’t naive enough to miss the possible threat. “You know, it’d be pretty easy to take a question like that the wrong way,” you told him bluntly, taking a somewhat playful tone to hide your discomfort and diffuse the question. “I wouldn’t. But someone else might.” 

“They might,” he agreed easily. 

“Not that I think you meant anything by it.” 

“I never said I was the one you needed to worry about.”  

He had to be messing with you. Either that or he was deranged. The slightly ironic upturn of his mouth made you think—or hope—that it was the former. “Either way, it is what it is,” you said, waving your hand dismissively. “Que sera and all that.” 

He hesitated, eyebrows knitting slightly. “Kay… What?” 

“You know, like the song,” you said. “What will be, will be. Was it Rosemary Clooney? Or… Doris Day, I think.” He stared at you, obviously lost. You waved it off again, shaking your head. “Anyway, the point is that I’m fine."

He grunted noncommittally, clearly not buying it. "Bet whoever's waiting for you at home hates it that you’re gone so late.” 

You snorted. “If I had someone waiting for me, do you really think I’d be here?” It occurred to you a second too late that he might have been flirting, surreptitiously asking if you were single. Or maybe he wanted to know if a potential mark had anyone to worry about her getting home. The fact that you couldn’t really tell was probably a bad sign. “And anyway, I hate to be rude,” you continued blithely, brute forcing a change of topic, “but I’m not sure you’re the one who should be giving out safety tips.” Your eyes lingered pointedly on the bruise swelling up his cheek. You’d had bruises like that in the past and, no matter what you told anybody, they didn’t come from being clumsy. 

“Oh, this?” His hand raised, fingertips coming into contact with the swollen injury like he’d forgotten it was there. “You should see the other guy.” 

Red flag? Innocuous boast? 

“Hopefully he’s in handcuffs by now,” you said, picking the route of deflection. “I mean, hitting a handsome face like yours must be breaking some law.” 

“Well, he wouldn’t be the first,” he said, something dark and ironic marring his otherwise confident demeanor. That reaction gave you pause, your eyes catching on the letter carved into his cheek. There were more scars too, old ones. 

“Ah, sorry,” you said, nerves catching up to your attempt at a cool demeanor. “I have a tendency to make jokes out of things that… aren’t funny.”  

“I’m not very big on comedy.” 

“Well, you’re in luck because I’m not funny,” you told him. “I only pretend like I am.”

 “So all of this,” he said, gesturing vaguely, “was a joke?” Unlike his previous statement, the question sounded more lighthearted. It made you doubt yourself all over again, worried you had overcorrected with the apology. 

“Not… everything,” you replied. “I-”

“Got an order of mozzarella sticks,” Ace called, cutting you off.

While the cook’s voice merely surprised you, the man at the counter tensed up immediately, his body going taut in preparation to jump up. You blinked, kicking yourself for getting carried away, unnerved by the man’s reaction. It was the quick trigger response to stress you knew fairly well. He relaxed immediately, or at least untensed slightly. The shift was so fast, it was as if it hadn’t happened. 

“Sorry, I’ve gotta,” you motioned behind yourself, feeling apologetic for some reason. 

“Do your job?” he asked dryly. 

“Yeah, that. Let me know if-”

“Will do.”  

You nodded and turned away, tending to the other tables and cleaning up so you could get off at a semi-reasonable time. It was impossible to not feel overly aware of the man at the counter. You wondered if he was actually interested or if he was just playing along. You wondered what you looked like to him. You wondered why he’d gotten hit in the face. You wondered a lot of things, had so many questions you knew you’d never get an answer to. The scars, the haunted look in his eyes. He was dangerous, you were pretty confident of that. He was something else too. You thought. Then again, it was just as likely that you wanted to think the best of this handsome stranger. It wouldn’t be the first time you made a dumb mistake like that.

A few minutes later, after the banana pie couple paid and left, you returned to the man at the counter, clearing his clean plate. “Can I get you anything else?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll take the check.”

“No pie?”

“It’s late,” was all he said, rolling his shoulders slowly. There was a hunch to them, something you hadn’t noticed before. It contrasted with his otherwise poised form.  

“That’s completely missing the whole point of eating here,” you told him sternly. “What do you like? Cherry? Pumpkin?” 

He snorted. “I’ll pass.” 

“It’s on me,” you told him. When he opened his mouth to argue, you added, “—and in a to-go box. I know for a fact that it’ll make your night better. Think of it as thanks."

"Thanks for what?"

"For reminding me that there are people having a worse night than me,” you said with a smile. “Now, what’s your favorite?"

He stared at you for a long moment and you wondered if you had finally crossed that oh-so thin line of propriety. Then he smiled, shrugged. “Dealer’s choice.” 

In the end, he left with a cardboard box of vanilla cream pie and an expressive combination of amused bemusement on his face. You helped Ace close up, going over your interaction over and over in your head, eventually coming to the conclusion that you had made a fool of yourself. You always liked to seem so clever, as if anyone would be impressed, as if anyone would think of you outside the liminal space of the stupid little resturaunt, as if you could even exist outside of what service you could offer. You didn’t even know his name. 

It was still raining when you left. 

III.

Sometimes, you had a tough time being positive. 

Most of the time, really. 

Gotham did that to people. 

But you did try, it was just difficult when you got off late and held your bag close as you traversed the creepy empty subway and the filth that lined the underground, your head down to avoid the hungry eyes of stray beggars. More and more, you were getting off late, closing time getting pushed back to account for the shipments coming in the back. You played dumb, but you weren’t entirely stupid to what was going on. Drugs? Weapons? You didn’t know the details of what was happening. You didn’t want to know the details, you didn’t want to admit that you saw anything you weren’t supposed to. You were selfish, all you knew for sure was that something was going on and you were afraid and alone. 

It was like being a ghost, like being trapped in some hellish nightmare where each day repeated itself without end.

When you boarded the subway, you huddled in a corner seat, giving the train a cursory glance before ducking your head again. Time and time again, you thought you noticed the same hooded person on your way home. Never close enough to see a face, just the shadow of a figure in another car or across a crowd. And you didn’t think you would be so sensitive, so hyper aware of it, if you didn’t get the awful impression that somebody had been into your apartment sometimes when you got home. There was no proof. A mess where you thought you had tidied, old things you had shoved into drawers to be forgotten sitting on top of your dresser. 

But, you reasoned, if you were being followed, if Mr. Anthony’s crimes were significant to warrant that sort of thing, you would have known, surely. You would be able to come up with evidence, with something solid. Unraveling sanity wasn’t fact. You were just tired, overworked, and stressed. You were a fool girl all alone in a city whose natural process was to chew up innocence and spit it out into the trash that littered the streets. The ultimate fact was that you weren’t interesting enough to be followed. There were a dozen girls just like you in the city. More, probably, and most of them were more interesting too. 

In the worst way, in the darkest parts of your mind, you thought it would almost be flattering to have a stalker. To matter to someone. And that was just…

You couldn’t follow that thought to its natural conclusion. It was better to stare at the filthy floor beneath your feet and listen to the city’s abrasive symphony. 

IV.

The restaurant was relatively busy when the news came. On Halloween, people wanted a place to eat before or after the night’s entertainment. And entertainment was what they got, footage of people infected with Scarecrow’s fear toxic, their brains twisted and driven insane. It was a massacre. 

“Gotham, this is your only warning.”  

Scarecrow’s announcement broadcasted through the city after that terrifying footage played. Evacuation instructions were issued shortly after, but the damage was done, the panic had begun. Through radios, televisions, loudspeakers, megaphones, everywhere was the same message. Get out. Escape. 

But it was mayhem. Footage of the Scarecrow’s face, of the savagery in the diner, was projected just as prolifically as information on how to evacuate. Watching customers leave the Palace of Pies was like watching a concert crush, bodies congealing at the door as they desperately tried to get out. 

And you, not knowing what to do, joined them. All around were screaming children in their costumes, people fighting and shouting at each other, others trying to direct foot traffic in some attempt to play hero. Everywhere was chaos and you couldn’t ground yourself in reality, it didn’t feel real. It couldn’t possibly be real. 

You passed a woman shouting for her child, begging passersby to help her. You passed someone looking around with wild eyes, asking nobody in particular what he was supposed to do. Nobody answered, nobody stopped, nobody helped. 

The police had checkpoints set up, alarms blaring past the relentless, all consuming noise. People rammed into one another in a block of bodies, stinking of rain water and sweat and city filth all stirred up by too many feet. Another bus peeled away from the curb, you could only see the glistening top of it and hear the shouting, people begging to be let on. You didn’t like your chances of getting on one of those buses. They filled up nearly as fast as they hit the curb, it didn’t matter how many came, the crowd only got bigger, swelling to an unmanageable size despite the domineering corralling of the police officers. 

Someone elbowed you hard in the stomach and you stumbled. The noise and panic was too intense for your cry to rise above the roar of voices, of babies screaming and wheels squealing and rain pounding. Like a violent, churning ocean, the crowd gathered and heaved and you were pushed from the tumultuous tide, forced into the back of the hoard. All you could imagine was yourself all alone, abandoned on the streets of Gotham, driven mad like the people in the video.

What terror would you see? What waking nightmare would your mind torment you with? You had a few guesses.

A crack in the sidewalk caught your toe, upsetting your balance entirely. Falling onto the concrete tore up the skin of your knee in an ugly way, the shredded skin immediately welling bright red blood. Nobody stopped for you, someone’s boot came dangerously close to smashing your fingers before you flinched away. 

A gloved hand entered your vision, and you realized it was meant for you. His grip was steady and firm as he helped you to your feet. Your rescuer, a tall, imposing man, was saying your name. Your name. You didn’t recognize him, not even slightly, and you couldn’t comprehend it, too panicked, too confused, your ears ringing something fierce. 

“Do I know you?” you asked him, trying to escape his grip without any success, distrust freezing your fear.

“Stay close to me, you’re getting on this bus,” he told you, diving back into the crowd without any further explanation. You barely registered his words, too busy stumbling along. His grip on your hand was firm, unyielding even as you tried to pull back, trying to make yourself heard over the crowd as you demanded you know who he was or what was happening.

Unlike you, he had no problem parting the tumultuous waves of people. They swore and lashed out like wild animals, but after a suffocating march, you broke out into the front. The bus was loaded, the final few people attempting to fight their way onto the bus swarming like angry wasps. You held fast onto the man as he knifed his way to the officer guiding the crush. Everybody was shouting, wailing. Violent elbows thrown and bodies jostling and it was too much. You were confused and scared and suspicious, but you weren’t stupid either. All you could do was cling to the man dragging you along and hunch your shoulders as if you were weathering a storm. 

The officer tried to stop the man leading you, holding up his baton threateningly, but your guide didn’t back down. Whatever he said to the officer made him frown, the cop looking you up and down with a hard look. You were prepared for rejection, to be physically thrown away from the door like the other people who tried to board without permission. 

“Go,” your guide shouted, releasing you. The immediate urge was to reject him, but you were given a hard push and tripped upward on the steps, your palms scraping the gritty traction mats. People were cursing and spitting and screaming at you from behind, but the officer didn’t stop you. No matter what the circumstances, you didn’t really have a choice but to obey. 

Inside, the bus stank of sweat and rainwater and filth and you were met with various degrees of hostility, anxiety, and glassy indifference. People packed into the faded and torn seats like canned fish, clutching their bags close and curled in on themselves out of distrust for their fellow man. Hands pounded at the windows, faces pressed to the glass. You took a look back, but the man who’d escorted you was gone. The door unfolded and shut with a painful squeal. 

After being snapped at by the driver, you claimed one of the last available spots next to a mother and her weeping child. A pumpkin was painted on the kid’s round, ruddy cheek, streaked with tears. The mom looked at you with narrowed eyes and you looked away, focusing on the blood welling up and crusting over your skinned knee. 

Almost laughably, one of the few thoughts you could scrape together was that you didn’t have a toothbrush. 

V.

Palace of Pies, just like so many palaces before it, survived the siege. Your apartment complex fared slightly worse, but the damage was mostly superficial. The hot water was out for a week and you had to pass a city full of wreckage just to get a box of cereal. All the same, you were lucky. You returned from the emergency shelter to a life pretty much intact. Gotham was a different story. Batman unmasked, billionaire dead, a city secured and returned to its people. Mostly. 

It was advertised as a good conclusion to a terrible situation, but that seldom held true. That was how it always went for those who lived beyond the tall buildings and glittering lights. Gotham had reached an equilibrium of sorts before the attack, somewhat, but now it was all busted. Criminals, the petty ones, the ones that had nothing to do with super villains or masked vigilantes, scurried around like rats. The fallout rattled even the most minor of them into a panic. And then there were stories about something worse than Batman. Successors or ghosts or whatever. These days, the Palace of Pies felt more like the den of a cornered animal. 

And you hadn’t meant to see anything, only wanting to leave a note that recommended a repairman be sent for the old coffee maker that was broken again, but another order sheet was on the very top of Mr. Anthony’s desk. Some of it was written in code or with strange nicknames, but you knew enough to decipher what was being ordered. Chemicals for drugs and parts you assumed were used in weapons manufacturing. All signed off by a man named Hector on behalf of his employer. While you had no idea who Hector might have been, you definitely recognized the name of his boss. 

Christ.

Seeing it all written down, for some reason, was the thing to send you over. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t known that shady things were happening before, and it was stupid to buy into the dream that crime would simply go away, that criminals would change their ways. It was one thing for Mr. Anthony to be affiliated with local gangs, but he’d taken it a step further. A big, terrible step further. Your eyes scanned the sheet with increasing fear and discomfort, reality like a vice around your heart. 

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” Ace asked from the doorway, startling you. The sound of his voice nearly caused you to jump out of your skin. But you didn’t give into your fear, turning and facing him like nothing was wrong. His face was red, twisted with a form of rage you were all too familiar with. 

“The coffee maker’s broken,” you told him. 

“You’re not allowed in here,” he said, his hand poised like he was going for his gun. 

“The door was unlocked,” you pointed out, refusing to feed into his anger by showing your fear. It was an old trick, the kind that always made things worse, but it was satisfying nonetheless. It was his own fault, his own carelessness, it wasn’t like you wanted to know that your boss was working for an insane cultist. 

“Get out of here,” Ace told you, his voice low and eyes all but slits. “Now.” 

The urge to get in the last word, to be clever, to be stupidly defiant, almost made you say something that would really set him off. Almost. It was the look in his narrowed eyes, the way his hand was settled on his gun, that made you reconsider. 

Ace smelled foul, like stale cigarette smoke and grease, as you passed him in the doorway. You held your breath all the way into the bathroom where you promptly threw up three cups of coffee and a stomach full of sour bile, eventually falling back onto the dirty tile with your eyes closed. 

VI.

Mr. Anthony had just finished a meeting with a group of unfamiliar men in the back room when he ordered his customary piece of cherry pie. Mostly unfamiliar men. Some faces came around often enough for you to recognize and now that you knew what you were looking for, figuring out who “Hector” was wasn’t difficult. Both he and his employer had a particular style. Cults were like that.

Just thinking of it made your stomach twist with nausea. Nobody knew what happened to many of the criminals after the incident in Arkham Asylum, and that was obscured further by the reform that had taken place recently. Speculation floated around Gotham, but that was all it ever was. Speculation. And you could hope that it was just a copycat criminal, you could hope that someone had stolen the moniker, but if it was him, if that was who Mr. Anthony had teamed up with, sticking around was borderline suicidal. 

But when you thought about that, you were reminded with a cold sort of brutality that you had nowhere to go. 

All you could do was serve Mr. Anthony the cherry pie he ordered with a polite demeanor and hope. Hope for salvation, for some sort of divine intervention. You thought about your rescuer from Halloween night, wondered who it was, why he had helped you, how he had known you. You wondered if he would come back, if he would save you again. But those were the thoughts of an idealistic child, you knew that. Real life was never so kind. 

“Can I get you anything else, sir?” you asked.

Mr. Anthony looked sicklier by the day. He was putting on more weight, his face puffy and pale like pastry dough, his big forehead shiny with sweat. He was drinking heavily from a gold plated flask, his movements jittery and eyes shifting nervously around the restaurant even after his associates were gone. 

“Yeah, why don’t you sit down. Take a little break,” Mr. Anthony offered in a would-be casual voice, gesturing to the empty chair with his fork. “I wanna have a chat.” 

Your heart sunk into your stomach like a rock. Did he know? Had he guessed your thoughts? Had Ace told him what you had accidentally seen? Fighting your creeping dread, you did as he indicated. It wasn’t like anybody was coming in, the place was dead. These days, it was almost always dead.

“Yes?” you asked, feigning innocence despite the way your voice shook. 

“I bet you’ve noticed that things have changed around here,” Mr. Anthony said. Although he was drinking, his dark eyes were lucid when they focused on you. A man as paranoid as him wouldn’t get drunk in public, it was just to ease the edge. You knew all about that.

“I guess. But everything has changed since the incident,” you responded carefully. “I think the Palace has recovered well though.” He wasn’t stupid, the both of you knew that wasn’t what he asked. But there was a time for cheek and a time for honesty and you were too scared for either, your nerves rubbed raw. 

"Do you like working here?" he asked rather than push you on that, abruptly shifting the conversation. 

"I do," you told him, pouring as much sincerity into the words as you could manage. 

"You feel like you're being treated fairly?" 

"Yes, sir.” 

“I like to make sure my employees are happy,” he stressed. “You know what I mean, happy?” 

“Yes, I think I do.” 

“Running a business is like being the captain of a ship. If anybody steps out of line, we all sink together. I’ve gotta keep a tight ship,” he emphasized the point by making a fist, a fast movement that made you flinch. “That’s the only way we can stay afloat.” 

“I understand,” you emphatically agreed. Then you hesitated, thinking. He needed more. He needed reassurance. Wiping your sweaty hands on your apron, you cleared your throat. “You’ve always treated me with respect, I wouldn’t do something to betray that. It’s tough to find respect in this city.” 

"Yeah, that’s true. You're a smart girl,” Mr. Anthony said, nodding, taking another big drink from his flask. “Got a good head on your shoulders." He chuckled. Prickling discomfort ran down the entire length of your spine. "You’re not gonna do anything stupid. No, no, you’re a smart girl. You know what’s good for you.” A vague sort of mania shone in his dark eyes and you knew what he meant. If you turned on him or his associates in any way, you were as good as dead. It wouldn’t matter even a bit if you wound up in a ditch outside of town, nobody would care. But if you were smart, you would keep your mouth shut and continue doing what you were told. You would ignore the things you saw and continue to serve his cherry pie with a smile.  

“Thank you, sir,” you said.

Mr. Anthony didn’t say anything, but he didn’t dismiss you either. He just shoved forkful after forkful of pie into his mouth, pausing every few bites for a drink. A catchy top ten pop song played distantly over the radio.

“Do you have a family?” Mr. Anthony finally asked, his eyes a little glazed over as he considered the last few bites of pie. He wasn’t quite drunk, but his words were slurred. 

“I moved away from home a while back,” you said cautiously, unsure of why he’d ask.

“What about a boyfriend?”

You almost replied with something acerbic and deflective, defiant that he’d ask something so personal. But you didn’t, swallowing down the disgust and discomfort. “No, sir.” 

“Well, you’re still young,” he said. “I got married younger than you are now, you know.” 

“Yes, sir,” you told him. “I’ve met your wife.” 

“My wife…” He grimaced. “Not anymore. We’re separated now. She abandoned ship, didn’t agree with my decisions…” His statement trailed off, his expression solemn, grave. “That’s how it goes in Gotham. We’re all alone. No matter what you do, how hard you try…” Mr. Anthony shook his head, taking another drink from his flask only to realize it was empty. He scowled at that too. “I can’t stand disloyalty. Can’t stomach it. You know what I mean?”  

“I do.”

“Respect, that’s all I ask for. Respect and loyalty.” 

“And pie?” you ventured, forcing a smile in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood. 

Mr. Anthony hesitated before returning your smile. The way he laughed sent shivers down your back, that same manic sound from before. “Yeah, you’re a smart girl. I can count on you, can’t I?” 

“Yes, sir.”   

In the end, you walked away from the encounter with a stomach full of sickening dread and a dollar raise and you knew, in your heart of hearts, that if you left now or anytime soon, you were as good as dead. Maybe you were dead anyway. Rescue wouldn’t come. Not for you, not again. 

VII.

Hearing a gunshot in such close proximity wasn’t like in the movies. The sound tore through the air violently. It blasted your ears, leaving them ringing, making the ensuing commotion sound like it was happening under water. You weren’t supposed to be here, but you’d left your coat and had keys to the back door so you thought it would be okay. If you had just grabbed your coat and left, it would have been fine. But you heard the shouting and-

The sound of a gun cleared some things up, at least. 

You weren’t sure what came over you, what could have possibly compelled you to investigate. It was as if your body wasn’t your own, as if you were merely operating something mechanical as you peered into the front of the restaurant from the dark kitchen. The lights were on, the warm lights that fought to be inviting against Gotham’s gloom. The place was clean and empty. Everything was where it should have been. 

Almost everything. 

Blood splattered the white tile floor in a gruesome spray, dripping from the red vinyl seats and beading up on the plastic tabletop. Mr. Anthony slumped in his chair, his body limp and doughy chin bulging out over his shirt collar. A half eaten piece of pie sat in front of him. There was nothing dramatic about it, really. It wasn’t like you could see his soul exit through his eyes or anything. They just stared.

Hector, a familiar face by now, was the one holding a gun. Several other men were in the room. As soon as you were noticed, all of them had their guns trained on you. 

“I’m sorry, I…” the words sounded distant, even if you were the one to speak them. For the first time since you moved to Gotham, all you heard was silence. It was the most dreadful sound you had ever heard. 

“You’re the waitress,” Hector finally said. He was the only one not pointing his gun at you. Instead, he raised a hand, beckoning you closer. “Come here.” 

That wasn’t the sort of order someone refused, not when you had three guns pointed directly at your chest. You didn’t think you would be capable of running anyway. On heavy, trembling legs, you slowly trudged forward, trying to avoid eye contact with your dead boss. His blood was forming a big stain on the front of his suit, pooling on the floor. “There’s no need to be frightened.” Hector waved his hand, motioning for the men to put their guns down. 

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your voice somewhat more clear because the magnitude of the situation was setting in and, although surreal, pragmatism had to kick in like it always had, self preservation lending you some steel.

“Your boss spoke very highly of you,” Hector said, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. Everything within you demanded you slap his hand off of you, that you lash out against the unwanted touch. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. “He said you’re smart, that he could trust you.” 

“I…” Your eyes returned to Mr. Anthony. He wasn’t moving, just slumped to the side, eyes wide open.

“No, don’t look at him,” Hector scolded, shaking your shoulder a little. When your eyes met his in fear of the slight violence, he released you. “I feel bad for you, I really do. This is an unfortunate situation.” He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “But I think I can make it work.” 

“I won’t tell anyone,” you told him. “I won’t, I’ll-” 

“No, no,” Hector said. “There’s no need for that. I want you to tell everyone about this. You’re going to call the police and tell them exactly what happened.” He looked past you, at one of his men. “Is the place clean?”

“Yeah, they won’t find anything.” 

“Good, good.” Hector met your eyes. “Now, you’re going to call the police. You tell the opperator that you witnessed a murder, okay? They’ll come with their police cars and paramedics and all that, and they’re going to take you to the station to get your statement.” 

“I-”

“Don’t talk, just listen,” Hector told you. “Here’s what you’re going to tell them-”

“I didn’t see them when I came in, but I could hear them through the window between the front and back,” you told the officer, your voice wobbling, fresh tears tracking through the caked salt on your cheeks. People described shock as a numbing agent, as escapism, but you didn’t think you had ever been so aware of yourself than in that moment. Aware of sweat dripping down your neck, aware of the sour taste on the back of your tongue, aware of the unsteadiness of your breathing, the racing of your heart. “I forgot my coat and so I came back to get it, I didn’t think anything of it.”

“What happened after that?” she asked, taking down your statement in a little notebook. The interview was being held in an office and they’d given you a can of soda from the vending machine. You were a witness. A victim. 

“They didn’t notice me,” you said. “They-”

“They?” she prompted, cutting you off.

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat no matter how hard you fought it. “Mr. Anthony a-and Ace. The cook. I-I think his name is Payton… I don’t know, we only ever called him Ace.” 

“How do you know it was them?” she asked. 

“Their voices. I work with Ace almost every day, and see Mr. Anthony at least three times a week, I could recognize them anywhere.”

“Did you hear anyone else?” 

“No.”  

“And what were they doing?” 

“Arguing,” you said. “I knew I walked in something I shouldn’t see so I tried to be quick. I wasn’t looking and then I-I heard the gun go off.”

“What were they arguing about?” she asked. 

“I don’t know. It wasn’t my business.” You couldn’t keep the anger out of your tone at that. It wasn’t your business, so why were you involved? It wasn’t fair, and there was nothing you could do. Tell the police the truth and face the wrath of a famously sadistic criminal. Lie to the police and risk legal persecution. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that you were out of a job.

“You don’t remember anything they said?” the officer asked. The doubt in her tone made your stomach twist. Hector’s demands were clear. You either convinced the police of the fake story, pinning all of the blame on Ace, or else. Given his employer, you could only guess what ‘or else’ would mean. Your chest seized, your breathing becoming faster. 

“I don’t know,” you said, your voice trembling. “Ace has always been… He’s not a very nice guy, and he’s been acting strange lately. I knew he kept a gun on him. You know, for safety. We stay open pretty late. I knew that, but I never thought he’d actually… I mean, who does that sort of thing? Who could possibly…” 

The officer nodded consolingly. Did that mean she believed you? “You’re okay, hon. We’re almost done. After the gun went off, what did you do?”

“I hid,” you told her. That’s what you should have done. You could almost imagine the scene in your head. The two of them arguing, the gunshot, ducking beneath the counter to hide with sweat soaking your clothes and terror squeezing your heart. “I heard him going through Mr. Anthony’s office, and then he came into the kitchen to leave through the back.” 

“He didn’t see you?” 

“No, I was hiding under the counter and it was… it was dark.” 

“When he left, did you get a good look at him?” 

“No, it was dark,” you repeated. “But when he opened the door, there was enough light from outside that I could see his coat. It’s really big, kinda tan. He’s the only guy I know who wears something like that.” Pressed against your thighs, your hands trembled violently. “Mr. Anthony was always nice to me,” you said. You didn’t mean to, it just bubbled out. “His wife left him recently, I think they’ve got kids too.”

She nodded again, giving you a sympathetic look. “Okay, honey. You’re okay. Is there anything else you can think of?” You shook your head, wiping your face with the tissues she’d pushed towards you. “I’ll give you my personal phone number, just in case you remember something.” 

You accepted her card with the work phone number and hastily scribbled personal number. “Thank you,” you said with a pathetic sniffle, disgust for your lies and terror twisting your insides, fear that they would figure out the lie striking hotter than guilt. Just like that, with one conversation, you ensured that one man’s murderer would go free and another man’s life was ruined. 

VIII.

Everything was wet. Negotiating an armful of groceries alongside an umbrella had been impossible, so you entered your apartment dripping and miserable and scared. Even going to the store for an hour or so had your anxiety spiking, you spent the entire time looking behind yourself, terrified that you would be arrested or attacked at any minute. 

Feet squelching with every step, you set the bags on the kitchen counter. Just the essentials. And a bottle of vodka. Nasty stuff, but effective. With any hope, enough of it would force you to pass out. After being awake for nearly two days without sleep, you would have thought your body would simply give out, but your brain wouldn’t let you. You ignored the rest of the groceries and opened up the bottle, uncaring of the puddle forming beneath your feet, and took a swig. Foul, but it lit a somewhat pleasant fire in your belly. You took another drink. It sloshed into your stomach like poison and dizzied your head. Drinking on an empty stomach was never a good idea, but you ran out of good ideas years ago.

You didn’t notice anything amiss. Your guard was well and truly down as you stumbled into your room, shucking the boots and tossing your soaked clothes into the hamper. It would have been better to shower the filthy scent of Gotham rain out of your hair, but instead you just covered your wet skin with a pair of pajamas and called it good, ready to self medicate. 

No, you didn’t notice anything amiss. Every sound was covered by the groan of the ancient radiator and broken down refrigerator, by the cars outside and voices down the hall. You didn’t even feel the discomfort you occasionally had that someone had been in your apartment. 

Somebody grabbed you from behind. 

It happened just like that, no time to think or to process or to understand what was happening. 

“Considering the trouble you’re in, you really oughta lock your door,” he said, his voice slightly muffled. The piercing scream that left your mouth was covered by a hand. Big hand. Big man. Muscular arms crushed you against a solid, armored chest, one on your face and the other easily pinning your arms. It didn’t matter that you thrashed and screamed, he didn’t so much as budge. When you tried to bash your head against his face, the back of your skull made contact with a hard mask. “Don’t get so worked up, okay? I’m not here to hurt you.” 

His words didn’t register, his voice like distant thunder in your head. Alarm bells screeched in your mind attacking the sore spot where your skull had met his mask, and the only thing you could do was struggle with all your strength, staring ahead at the comfortable familiarity of your living room and thinking that you didn’t want to die.

“C’mon, calm down a little, will you?” he said, seemingly put out with your antics. Ignoring him, you only redoubled your efforts. He let out a grunt when you kicked him, although it seemed more surprised than pained, his arms tightening around you to the point of suffocation. “Look, I didn’t want to scare you, but I can’t have you waking up the whole building.”

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. There was something very hard pressing into your thigh and you didn’t think it was because he was happy to see you. Some part of your brain, the part that attempted rationality, recognized that you weren’t going to physically escape. Liquor and bile sat heavy on the back of your tongue, you worried you would choke on it.

“There you go,” your attacker said warmly as your energy drained and you stilled, his grip loosening somewhat now that you weren’t struggling like a wild animal. “Now I’m gonna let you go, and you’re not gonna do anything stupid.”

Breathing hard through your nostrils, you grunted in assent. 

“‘Cause if you try anything,” he warned, “I’ll be very upset.”

Another grunt. Now that panic wasn’t so blindingly overpowering, you were aware of what this situation was. The danger you were in. His arms tightened for a moment, although not in an aggressive way. It felt more like a fleeting embrace.

When he released you, you didn’t scream, twisting away and putting as many stumbling steps between the two of you as possible. “I didn’t tell anybody,” you told him before even thinking about the words. “I wouldn’t, I-” 

Recognition panged in your head like a bell as soon as you got a decent look at your attacker. For a moment, your brain scrambled, words failing you as you tried to process what you were looking at. Well, who you were looking at. The symbol on his chest was painted in red, but it was shaped like the bat symbol. The hero of Gotham. But he had guns, he couldn’t be. Besides, Batman—Bruce Wayne—was dead. 

“You’re…” you said, trailing off in a confused loop of thought. You didn’t really  understand what was happening, it was like reality had caused your system to crash. “You’re not Batman.”

“What gave it away?” he asked, his muffled voice sarcastic. You had no answer to that, just the angry pulse of adrenaline and terror and confusion. “It’s good to see you,” he said after a moment, taking a step towards you. “Up close, I mean.”

“What? Who are you?” Once you could look past the red bat symbol on his chest, he was dressed casually. Tactically, you supposed, with some light body armor and weaponry, but with a red hooded jacket and equally red mask that covered his whole face.

“You don’t remember me?” he asked. “And I thought we hit it off so well.” 

“I think you’ve got the wrong person,” you told him. Despite your terrible memory, you would definitely remember meeting some masked criminal dressed like a dead icon.  

“Nope, you’re exactly who I wanted to see,” he said. “Now why don’t you take a seat. You look like you’re about to pass out, and I’d like to talk.” 

Mind whirling with panic and uncertainty, you considered your options. It was difficult. Drinking hadn’t been a good decision, the liquor drifted like fog in your head, confusing your ability to process everything. 

“You need to leave,” you finally said, the tremble in your voice giving away your nerves. “Right now, you need to-” 

“Come on,” he said, cutting you off. “You know how this goes, so let’s skip the part where you antagonize the guy with a gun.” 

The urge to argue further occurred to you, but the words weren’t there. You had to be reasonable about this. If you cooperated, maybe you could find an advantage. Or talk your way out. If he had been here solely to assault you, why would he have let you go? The weight of his body against your own, the strength with which he held you, lingered like phantom pains. It would have been easy for him to force you down, to hurt you. To kill you. So easy. 

You sat woodenly on your couch, eying the man warily as he crossed the room into your tiny little kitchen. Well, a counter, stove, and refrigerator shoved into the corner of the main room of your small apartment.  

“Smirnoff, really?” he asked, picking up the bottle and inspecting it. Although you couldn’t see his face, you could hear the playful disgust in his voice. You didn’t say anything, watching him open your fridge and emerge with a bottle of water. He tossed it over. You barely managed to snatch it from the air before it fell onto the floor. “Try and sober up a little.” 

While you didn’t really want to follow his instructions, you had also become aware of an awful case of dry mouth. He leaned against the counter while you took a few small sips. Although you couldn’t see his eyes, you got the distinct impression he was staring at you. The world hadn’t fallen silent, but it was all muffled. Far away. Your neighbors talked loudly, your old appliances droned, and cars passed outside, but none of it mattered. You may as well have been in a different world. 

“You were so talkative last time,” he said as the silence dragged on. “I’m starting to think you’re not happy to see me.” 

“I have no idea who you are,” you told him. 

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t,” he allowed. “I’ll show you. But it’ll have to be our little secret, okay?” 

You didn’t expect him to remove the mask, let alone do so in a nonchalant way. The mask made a distinct mechanical sound as he removed it, setting the piece aside and tossing his hood back. And that face was familiar. Mostly, you just remembered that scar, a crude J engraved on his cheek. You blinked, confusion making you doubt what you were seeing. It didn’t make any sense that the mysterious customer from weeks ago could be standing in your apartment.

“The pie was delicious, by the way,” he said casually, running his fingers through his hair to keep it pushed back. “I can see why it’s your favorite.” 

That’s right. You thought you were being so cute for doing that, like you were some sort of philanthropist. It was borderline incomprehensible trying to merge your memory of that single interaction with what was happening now. The customer you awkwardly flirted with was an armored, armed man with the symbol of a dead hero on his chest. You had been genuinely upset that he never came back after that night, thought about him for at least a week after, but this wasn’t what you had in mind for a second meeting. 

“It’s you,” you muttered softly, too shocked to be defensive.

“Surprised? It’s been awhile, I know. I’ve been busy.” 

“Why are you here?” 

“Why do you think?” he asked derisively. When you didn’t respond, he lightened up a bit. “Look, I’ve shown you mine, so why don’t you show me yours? Tell me who killed Frank Anthony.” 

You regretted drinking, that question alone making you think you were about to be violently ill. “You’re with the police, aren’t you.”

“Do I look like a cop?” he asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow. No, he didn’t. Hector warned you about this sort of thing. The Bat, he said, might have been dead, but there were always those willing to do the same sort of work. If you squealed, you were worse than dead.

“I already told the police what happened,” you said, your stomach tying itself in increasingly painful knots. 

“Yeah, you gave them quite the story.” 

“No.” You shook your head. “It’s the tru-” 

“Don’t,” he said loudly, aggressively cutting you off, “lie to me.” The rapid shift in tone had you flinching away, your water bottle dropping hard to the floor as you got to your feet to put more distance between the two of you. He had a look in his blue eyes that made you think he wasn’t entirely sane, and it chased away any hope that you could talk your way out of this. 

“I want you to leave,” you told him, your fists clenched and shoulders tight, fueled by fear. Fear, and anger. Helpless rage at how awful this situation was, how unfair.   

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” he asked, eying you up with a decidedly unimpressed expression, that flare of temper gone. “Fight me? Call for help?”

You didn’t say anything, realizing with a fresh wave of impotent indignation how helpless you were. 

“Guess you’re stuck with me then,” he said, playful again, pushing away from the counter to sit on the other side of the couch. You watched him make himself comfortable, arms spread across the seatback and legs relaxed. Even like this, standing above him, you felt weak. He gave you a look. “What? C’mon, sit down.”  You didn’t, even though standing there was beginning to feel horribly uncomfortable. “Are you seriously…? You’re not going to make this easy, are you.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” you said, putting as much venom in your voice as possible.  

He smiled. “I never said I was disappointed. But if you really wanna seem tough, you should relax a little.”

You set your jaw, folding your arms. 

“Fine, I’ll start,” he said, maintaining that disturbingly casual voice. “I didn’t give you my name last time. I’m Jason. Might wanna remember that for later.” 

“Jason… Have you got a last name too?” you asked, not thinking so much about what you were saying as you were on portraying the only form of strength you had. 

Jason shot you a sideways look. “Why?”

“You know, for the police report.” It had been a stupid thing to say in the first place, you knew that, but it didn’t get the reaction you wanted either. Jason just smiled, amused with your attempted wit. 

“While you’re in there, are you gonna tell them what a bad girl you’ve been?”

It took you a moment, your thoughts catching on his uncomfortable wording, but then it clicked. “Do they know something?” you asked faintly, your head spinning with sickening anxiety. 

“‘Course not,” Jason said. “Why do you think we’re talking here and not at the station? I figured it was better this way. You did something stupid, but you can still make it right. I’m happy to help. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know.”

“Help me?” you asked incredulously. “You break into my home and threaten me and you think you can-”

“I haven’t threatened you,” he said loudly, stopping you. “Yet.” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you told him, forcing bravado to cover for your terror. There was no way out of this. Between a rock and a hard place, anything you did would be the wrong decision and it wasn’t fair. That bubbled out, your helpless anger coming through in a sharp tone. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” 

“I was hoping we could avoid this, but…” Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You can’t say I didn’t try to be nice. You’ve never been one to go for the nice guys though, have you.” Before you could respond, he stood up and grabbed you by the front of your shirt, pulling you off balance and up. Jason kept you suspended as you squirmed, although you stopped struggling pretty quick when he drew his gun and pressed it to your neck. It wasn’t like Ace’s gun, which may as well have been a toy in comparison to the weapon Jason held at your throat. The barrel was blocky and huge, you weren’t even sure it could reasonably be counted as a handgun. 

“Okay, princess, from the top. Tell me who your boss was working for.” 

Survival instinct dictated you cooperate, but the stubborn need for defiance kept you from speaking. The selfsame urge that got you in trouble, that made you want to have the last word when you argued and destroyed your life as you continuously made bad choices. This was the second time you had guns drawn on you, and for what? So you just looked at him, met those pretty blue eyes with the worst type of resolve. The petty kind. 

“I don’t know.” 

Jason jerked you up higher, the fabric of your shirt straining painfully against your skin. “Try again,” he told you, his voice low and dangerous.  

“Even if I tell you, it won’t matter,” you said, your voice jumping an octave in fear. “You’re wasting your time.”   

Jason considered that for a long moment before nodding, his expression softening and grip loosening. “You’re right, this is a waste of time,” he agreed. You hoped, for a second, that he was going to put you down. Instead, he hauled you up higher, your toes barely finding purchase on the floor until you hit the wall with a heavy exhale. It was nothing for him to keep you pinned against there, a muscular thigh pressed between your legs. The straps keeping his gun holster in place dragged roughly against the yielding fabric of your pajama shorts, adding a layer of friction that made you shudder, flinching back but unable to go anywhere. The barrel of his gun nudged beneath the hem of your shirt, seeking the warm skin beneath. 

“Stop,” you demanded, but your voice was without bite, without air. Jason hardly budged when you weakly pushed against him. “You have to let me go right now or-”

“Sweetheart, babe, princess,” Jason cooed, cutting you off. Agonizingly slow, the gun’s cold muzzle continued to drag up over your abdomen, over your stomach. Chills chased behind the weapon’s metal kiss, your entire body so tense you trembled. “Look at yourself. Do you really think you’ve got any say in what I can or can’t do?” 

“What are you going to do then?” you asked, terrified to look up and meet his eyes and terrified to look away. Terrified of the gun skimming your ribs and terrified of your body’s conflicted reaction because the horror of the threat only registered so much in comparison to his proximity, the twisted sensuality of it all.  

“I’m not sure yet,” Jason said. “But I’m telling you right now that there are only two things I wanna hear from you. You can give me what I want, the truth this time, or…” 

You didn’t want to ask, but you knew he was waiting for it, waiting for you to take the bait. “Or?” you finally breathed. The gun was pressed cold and hard right beneath the band of your bra, a stark contrast to the heat of his body right against yours. 

“My name,” he said. “In my line of work, we don’t usually use ‘em. But I kinda like the idea of you screaming mine.” In isolation, the words might have come off as obnoxiously cocky, but Jason didn’t sound cocky. There was a needful insistence in his voice that undermined the obvious flirtation and that’s where this situation was going anyway, gun or no, he was just pushing it over the edge. 

“Jason-” 

“Yeah, like that. Maybe a little louder though.” The gun was gone, but you didn’t have time to respond to the lack of threat. Jason’s gloved hand was rough on your chin, pulling your face up towards his. You pushed against him, but it was a weak struggle. Ineffective.

Jason kissed you and it was violent, biting teeth and his tongue pushing past your wet lips. He kissed you like he was trying to prove something, like he was hungry. It had been awhile since you kissed anyone, but you fell into place pretty easily. Besides, it wasn’t the type of kiss that was returned so much as it was the type that you submitted to. His mouth tasted like mint and you wondered if that was on purpose, if he had prepared for this. 

You were still reeling by the time he pulled away, catching your bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it, the final touch of pain making you shiver despite yourself. 

“That stuff is seriously disgusting, I have no idea how you stomach it,” he said, a smile in his voice that didn’t match the tone of the situation. “You don’t really care about quality though, do you?” His breathing was harsh and the non-question was ironic. You didn’t respond, too stunned. Hoping, maybe, that if you didn’t engage, it would cease to be real. “Well?” Jason prompted. “Which is it?”

“Stop,” you said. Unable to meet his eye, unable to move. He wanted you. Your stomach twisted and you should have been fighting like your life depended on it. But something about it all was just incomprehensible, you couldn’t parse why this was happening. That this was happening to you.   

“That’s not what I asked, but that’s fine,” he said casually. “Take your time, I’ll just-” 

Jason gripped you by the hips and turned the both of you around so he could lift you onto the counter. Things toppled the ground, papers and random junk you’d accumulated crashing down. The ease with which he manhandled you was vertigo inducing, making you yelp, limbs flailing in an attempt to get your balance. 

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, pulling your shirt up and over your head and arms. Your bra was discarded with the same fervor. Jason didn’t take the time to look at you, his mouth seeking skin. Your neck, your collar bones, your breasts, he hungrily left wet kisses and searing bites down your skin, stopping only when he reached your nipples. Overly sensitive with stress and fear, your body tensed as if electrified, a high pitched sound leaving your mouth in surprise. His tongue was hot, but the scrape of teeth was really what had you squirming, gasping, unable to think. Your thighs clenched hard, attempting to close but obstructed by his hips. 

“No, n-no,” you told him, panicked and pulling at his hair because this was too far. The line had been crossed already, you knew it was ridiculous to object now when the whole situation had spiraled so far out of your control, but you had to do something. Jason just groaned, pulling back to look at you. 

“What did I say?” he asked. 

You shook your head, caught between the strangest sense of embarrassment to have someone looking at you and cold dread at where this was heading. “You can’t-” 

“I gave you two options. Otherwise, I don’t wanna hear it.” To make his point, he cruelly pinched your nipple, the one he’d left wet and sensitive. All you could do was groan as he leaned down to do the same to the other, knowing that you weren’t putting up enough of a fight and hating yourself for it. 

There was no escapism to the confusing, vile stirrings of lust. You were painfully aware of yourself and what was happening, your legs kicking out and body writhing unconsciously at the pleasurable sensations. You wished you weren’t cognizant of what was happening, you wished you had some excuse, some reason to submit to this that wasn’t plain weakness, some messed up acceptance of what he was doing. But then he bit down, rolling your nipple between his teeth, and it hurt and you moaned loud, unable to contain the way your hips ground against him and you knew that even if you weren’t reciprocating, you were still complicit.

Jason pulled away from your nipple with a slick, dirty sound. His hand pushed between your thighs, forcing them to spread further so he could rub his hand over the pajama shorts you still wore. You squealed, the pressure of his palm grinding right between your legs bringing some form of sense back into your head. And you didn’t mean to hit him, not really. But you did, your palm meeting his cheek. The sharp sound made you flinch, your breath catching in surprise. Jason looked a little surprised too, leaning back to look at you. 

“Seriously?” he asked. 

“I-I’m so-”

“I warned you about antagonizing the guy with a gun.”

“No, I-I’m not-” 

“I swear, it’s like you’re incapable of self preservation,” Jason said, unholstering his gun again and pressing it to your cheek. 

“Stop,” you told him, but your bravado was anemic at best. Breathless, and not just just because of the gun, although you were horribly aware of the metallic scent and its coldness biting into your skin. Fear wasn’t the only thing making it difficult to think.

“Is that really what you want?” he asked, his eyes alight with humor and knowing. “Cause, I’ve gotta be honest, that’s not what it looks like. Maybe this is what you wanted all along, creeping through those back streets in the middle of the night. No wonder you weren’t scared.” 

“That’s not true,” you told him.

“Oh yeah? Then tell me what I’ll find under these cute little shorts. I’ve got a feeling it’s not going to be disinterest.”

At this point, you weren’t sure you could even tell him he was wrong. Your nipples were stiff and your skin was covered with chills, you didn’t doubt that you were wet too. “I thought…” you said, scrambling for some change of subject, some distraction. “I thought you just wanted me to tell you-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get what I want,” Jason assured you. “But there’s nothing wrong with a guy taking pleasure in his work.” He didn’t give you any more time to think or argue as he roughly pushed your shorts and panties down your hips to get them out of the way. It forced you to lean back, catching yourself on your hands so you could support your torso. Even if the gun was a hollow threat—and you thought it had to be considering his finger wasn’t on the trigger—it was effective. You whined in distress at the idea of him seeing you, seeing all of you. 

“Don’t,” you muttered, a pathetic objection that did nothing to give him pause. 

“Goddamn,” Jason muttered, his big hand flattening against your abdomen, dragging down. The material of his glove was rough against your skin, cool and inhuman. 

“Don’t,” you whined again, trying to squeeze your thighs together, unable to meet his eyes. Not that he was looking at your face anyway. 

“You know, I was fine just watching, making sure that you were okay,” Jason told you, almost earnestly. “The idea of you going out on your own in the middle of the night… the things people could do to you… I couldn’t stop thinking about it after I left. I had to make sure.” 

“You’ve been… watching me?” you asked. 

“And I was fine with it,” he emphasized, “but you had to go and misbehave.” He used his teeth to pull off the fingers of his glove so he could toss it aside. His skin was hot on yours when he pried your thighs apart further. When you struggled, he just pressed the muzzle of the gun even harder against you, dragged it down against your throat. By now, the metal was warm with your body heat. 

“You’ve been watching me?” you asked again, your voice gaining a bit more strength. 

“I’ve been protecting you,” Jason said, his voice lowering. “I hired someone to get you out of the city safely. When a couple of drunk idiots tried to follow you home, I’m the one who stopped them. And I admit, I was pretty pissed when I heard about what you did, but now… now I see the advantages.” He paused, his hand creeping up your thigh. He let out a surprised little laugh when his fingers pushed past your outer lips, skimming your entrance in a way that made your entire body lurch towards him, arms nearly giving out. “Damn, now who’s wet.” 

“Jason,” you meant it to be an admonishment, but your voice raised an octave with surprise when his fingers grazed up over your clit. You tensed up, but it did nothing to stop his fingers from driving into you, to stop your inner walls from squeezing his fingers as if to pull them deeper in spite of the horror of what he was saying. It wasn’t difficult at all, you were embarrassingly wet for him and all he had to do was push you down with the muzzle of the gun to keep you from fighting. 

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, curling his fingers. “Feels good to know that somebody cares about you so much.” 

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut in a half hearted attempt to block out his words, to ignore what was happening. It didn’t work. There was nowhere to go away from him, away from this. 

“I know how alone you feel. I know what you want, what you need.” He punctuated that word with a harsh thrust. You couldn’t fathom what he was saying. It didn’t make sense, your brain was on fire. He slowly pulled his fingers out, curling them against your walls to make your mouth fall open wordlessly, a little mewl leaving you before you bit your lip.

He was insane. But you already knew that. He was also right. You already knew that too. You were fairly sure you were insane as well, what other reason could there be for the way your body was responding to him?

Swearing under his breath, Jason wrapped his arm around your waist to pull you against him, his fingers setting a fast pace, your body jolting with each heavy thrust. The fabric of his clothes was rough, a reminder of how helplessly exposed you were in comparison to him. His mouth dropped to your neck, kissing and licking the sensitive skin there before biting down hard enough to make you cry out, your body writhing against his. He was wearing some sort of body armor, it made it difficult to find purchase on his back as your hands grasped at him, searching for something to hold onto. Eventually, your fingers entangled in his hair. He groaned low, adding a third finger. 

The far away rational part of your mind was aware enough to recognize how embarrassing the endless stream of high pitched moans and whines leaving your mouth were, but it was as automatic as the way your pussy squeezed his fingers, sucking them deeper, begging for more no matter how rough he was. Beyond your control, just like everything else. 

“Jason…” His name was a plea, a prayer, breathless and needy and pathetic. 

“A little louder, princess,” Jason responded.  

You whined, pressing your lips together in an attempt to stifle yourself. He laughed, cool air puffing against your wet skin. 

“It’s cute that you think I can’t make you.” 

Jason pulled his fingers out and released you, swiveling you around on the counter so you could fall flat on your back. More things crashed to the floor, the bottle of vodka shattering loudly after it toppled. He kept you from fighting with the gun, pressing it beneath your chin so you had no choice but to lay flat. Spread beneath him with your legs wide open like a meal. 

“Fuck, you really are…” Jason muttered under his breath, eying you hungrily. He didn’t finish the thought, licking his lips. “Goddamn.”

The gun was pushed so hard against you it was certain to leave indents in your skin, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to care when he leaned down and traced his tongue over your clit. The not-enough teasing sensation pulled an entire body shudder from you, your legs twitching and hips jumping against him, thighs straining as they tried to decide whether to close or open. Your hands scrambled indecisively, reaching out and holding onto the counter’s lip with a white knuckle grip and your back arching in a taut bow. 

When he pushed three fingers into you, curling and scissoring them, it was all you could do not to shout. Jason was relentless, not caring to try and build you back up slowly. Your body was all too accepting, the rough pace he’d set was pushing you over the edge fast. You whimpered when his tongue, wet and velvety, licked from the place his fingers thrust into you all the way up, and that became a long, reedy cry when his lips closed and he sucked. 

Pleasure coiled so hot in your core, stoked to a terrible blaze beneath his touch, and you could have wept at how badly you wanted to get off, straining for release mindlessly, helplessly. 

“Jason, I can’t-” Too loud, you knew it was too loud but you also knew that was the only way you were going to get what you needed. And it was need. Dire, catastrophic. “Jason, please. Jason-” 

Right there, right on the tipping edge of release, Jason pulled back. You whined unhappily, your hips desperately trying to chase his fingers. He held you in place, pressing the flat of the gun against your abdomen to push you down as he pulled his fingers out with a slick noise. “Sweetheart,” he said, “look at me.” You thought of refusing, but complied after a moment, humiliation dulled by need. Jason’s cheeks were pink, his lips flushed red. His expression sent a shuddery jolt of desire through you, intense and hungry and focused and far more composed than you were. “Tell me his name.”

His name. It took you a moment, given that you were of a fairly singular mind. But you figured it out eventually. Panting, flushed, drenched red with lust, you shook your head. 

“No, no, no, listen,” he scolded, grabbing your chin with fingers that smelled like you, that were wet because of you. In a way, the touch was more threatening than the gun. Jason’s eyes were bright, a complete contrast to the way yours felt fogged over. “Tell me, and I’ll bring you his head. That’s a promise.” 

His tone should have been frightening. Maybe, in a way, it was. All steel and fire and raw honesty, you didn’t doubt that he would make good on that threat. But you weren’t afraid. You had enough will power to refuse again, you knew how easy it would be to close your eyes and turn away from him. Gun and teasing and desire and fear and all, you’d endured worse for less. But to what end? For what purpose? You were already ruined, already as good as dead. 

In the worst part of yourself, you felt if you didn’t reciprocate, if you didn’t give back when he’d done something for you, that would be rude. 

“He’s the one who thinks he’s a-a god. Maxie Zeus or whatever,” you said, your voice hoarse. “His guy, Hector, that’s who… Christ…” You pulled against his wrist and shook your head, trying to banish the memory. “Mr. Anthony was bringing in goods for him, but I don’t know what happened, or why he… I don’t know.” 

Jason stood up. “Seriously? That freak?” he asked, an incredulous laugh in his voice. “I didn’t realize he was still kicking around... What are you doing?”

He pushed you back down to keep you from squirming away like you were attempting. “I told you,” you said, your voice faint, “so we’re…” 

“We’re what? Even? Not even close.”  

“But I… Let me go.” You pushed at him, tried to close your legs, although you knew your heart wasn’t in it. 

“Nuh-uh, princess. You’re not getting out of this that easy.”

“But I told you!” 

“Yeah, after lying about it right to my face. Did you think you were gonna get away with that?” He paused, giving you another once-over. “Besides, I can’t leave a job half done. It’s not in my nature.” 

You didn’t have to ask what he meant by that, Jason pushed his fingers back into you and you had to bite off your groan, your body spasming at the touch. He wasn’t hurried at first, watching you toss your head back in frustration, resisting the urge to grind against his hand as you made a half hearted attempt to come up with the words for why you couldn’t do this, why he needed to stop.  

Nothing came out, ultimately. You were too afraid that he’d listen if you told him to stop, it was better to say nothing, to cling to the pleasure as a lifeline of insanity. 

“You’re real cute like this,” Jason praised you with an indulgent mixture of sarcasm and affection. You weren’t aware of the gun being gone until you realized his other hand was free to nudge against your clit. Playfully, at first. Then with more focus, rubbing against it with hard, maddening little circles. You whimpered, then whined, your cunt squeezing his fingers as they tortured your inner walls. The pace he’d set was speeding up in time with the rising swell of heat, that coil of tension within you approaching a feverish pitch. “Reminds me of one of the first things you said to me. What was it?” He paused as if to think, jolting your body with a harder thrust that you could hear. “Oh yeah, I remember,” Jason continued, paying no mind to your sharp cry. “You’re dripping everywhere.” 

A despairing sort of groan came from your throat at that, but his tone sunk deep into your core and the pleasure of each wet, slick thrust was growing intolerably good, pushing you right back to the brink. Jason spoke like this was supposed to be some sort of punishment, but the way he fucked his fingers into you, the way he rubbed your clit, was anything but. 

It didn’t take much from there. The hyper aroused state of awareness made your comprehension of how utterly debased it all was that much hotter, lust redefining the grotesque as helplessly attractive. You were getting close, your body straining for release desperately, your hips meeting each thrust, grinding against his fingers. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged. “Please, don’t…” 

“Are you gonna be good and ask me nicely?”

“Please, Jason… God, please.”

“Sure, why not,” he said. In contrast to the lackadaisical tone, his fingers curled, seeking out that spongy spot inside of you that made your legs twitch and kick, an unnaturally high mewl accomining the reaction. A few more torturous passes just like that was all it took to well and truly send you tumbling, your muscles tightening and pussy tightening, gushing around his hand as you came. Afraid he would pull away before you were finished, you grabbed his hand, keeping him against your clit as your hips ground down on his fingers. Jason let it happen, indulging you until the pleasure had run its course of heat and mindless frenzy.  

Then you sagged, letting him go and staring up at the ceiling with glassy eyes, hot and breathing hard. He pulled his fingers out, another uncomfortably wet sound. There was a joke to be made in the fact that the first guy who made you come was the one who did it with a gun at your throat, but you couldn’t find the words. It wasn’t all that funny in the first place. 

The sound of something unclicking pulled your eyes down to Jason. He wasn’t paying any attention to you, working on his clothes. It was completely unfair that while you were all the way bared to his eyes, he was still dressed. Not even dressed—armed.

“Worst part about this job is the outfits,” Jason muttered, clearly annoyed as he unclipped the holsters around his thighs so he could put the weapons on the counter. The hoodie went next, but there was still something bulky beneath his shirt, probably the armor you’d felt earlier. 

“Least you brought protection,” you muttered. 

Jason grinned, looking up at you with bright, excited eyes. “And you say you’re not funny.” The last to go was his belt and its assortment of ammo, set aside with the guns. “That’ll have to be good enough… Sorry, babe, show and tell’ll have to wait ‘til next time.” 

That playful comment went right over your head as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock. He ran a hand down its length, eyes devouring your body. It was disappointing that you wouldn’t get to see all of him, but it was difficult to focus on that considering what he was showing you anyway. 

“What do you want me to do?” you asked softly, frozen between the embarrassment and the shameless way your pussy squeezed down around nothing, given a pretty good idea of how deep inside of you he would go from the way he was positioned between your legs. The circumstances, the disaster, that had gotten you here didn’t matter. Jason was hard for you, looking at you with dangerously dark eyes. 

“Hold on tight,” Jason said, giving no further warning as he scooped you up off the table and turned around, pushing you against the wall again. You yelped in surprise, doing exactly as you were told with your arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, legs clamping around his waist. There was no gun pointed at your head, but the easy way he hauled you into place made it moot anyway. Jason would have just as easy of a time snapping your neck as he would pulling the trigger, the gun was just for show. 

“I have a bed,” you pointed out, a bit of anxiety trickling through everything else you felt because having sex was one thing, but being fucked upright against a wall, helplessly clinging to his shoulders, was filthy. And that was before you realized that you could hear the sound of your neighbors TV vibrating in the wall at your back, a muffled laugh track mingling with the ringing in your ears. “This is… it’s a shared wall.”

“And?” Jason asked, keeping you in place as he lined himself up. The sensation of his cock pressing against your fluttering entrance was almost enough to make you give up. Almost. 

“They’ll… they’ll hear, we can’t-” 

“Not my problem,” he told you. Any further argument was driven from your mind as he pushed into you, your mouth dropping open dumbly, mind cleared out entirely by the weight and pressure as you sunk all the way down onto him. Jason groaned against your neck, grinding his hips against you so you could feel how deep he went, how full you were. Your inner walls fluttered around him, desperately trying to adjust to the delicious weight. Madly, you thought that if you could stay just like that forever, you would be glad for it. And then he pulled out, a little slow at first, making sure you could feel the drag and absence, before filling you all over again. You couldn’t hold back your cry, your body no longer belonged to you. And he did it again, it had to be on purpose. 

“Loud,” you whined, not sounding nearly as distressed as you probably should have. “Too loud, Jason...” 

He laughed breathlessly. “They’d better get used to it,” he said right into your ear. God, you couldn’t handle it. The way he said that, the way he accentuated the threat with a hard thrust, just made you whine, holding onto him even harder. 

“Jason-” His name slipped from your mouth without thinking, high and pathetic, the only thing you could think. A plea for mercy, for more, for him. 

“I know,” he told you, managing to sound cocky despite the breathless lust in his voice, his smile pressed against your neck before his teeth dug into the flesh there. His fingers kneaded your ass, grinding you onto his cock. Exhaustion, terror, alcohol, desire—all of it had been the perfect battering ram to get you here, your defenses shredded, your senses spirited away by mindless need. 

All you could do was hold on. Moan for him, beg for him. Each hard thrust pushed you up the wall, your back scraping against the textured paint. It might have hurt, were you not too distracted with the feeling of Jason inside of you, the head of his cock dragging against where you were most sensitive, going so deep you saw stars. You wished desperately that he were undressed so you could feel his skin against yours, but the material of his shirt rubbing against your sensitive nipples wasn’t so bad either, another point of friction. 

At the fever pitch point of abandon, it didn’t really matter that you were trying to muffle yourself, to choke down your cries and whimpers. The physical sound, the hard, rhythmic thump-thump-thump as he fucked you against the wall, the wet squish of each thrust, was suggestive even without you moaning like a whore over the top of it. And, fuck, it was hot. 

“You wanna come again, princess?” Jason asked. It was spoken like a question, but he didn’t wait for your response for his hand to sneak between your legs, easily finding your swollen clit. You yelped unintentionally, eyes snapping open. You definitely couldn’t handle that either. Being fucked like this bordered on overstimulation, to feel pleasure there too would break you. 

“Mmm, Jason…” you sounded breathless and cheap, shaking your head in an attempt to convey your burst of panic at the feeling and the drowning helplessness. There was nothing you could do to stop him, to stop yourself, regardless of what you wanted. “I can’t-” 

“Yeah, you do.”

Even if the excess stimulation had you whining and gasping and writhing like a creature possessed, you did, you wanted to come on his cock, to feel the way your cunt clamp down around him like a vice as you shook to pieces. 

He didn’t have to encourage you to say his name, it fell out between your helpless moans, your harsh breathing. Jason dropped wet kisses on your neck, your jaw, kissing your open mouth and biting your bottom lip until you pulled on his hair, encouraging you with all sorts of noises. None of your other partners had been vocal like this, letting you how much you affected them, how much they desired you. It was intoxicating in a way no liquor or drug ever had been, and far more addictive. 

Someone hit the wall behind you, a few harsh knocks of disapproval and some choice, if muffled, words. Jason laughed breathlessly, the air hot on your neck. “Whoops,” he said. 

As humiliating as the interruption was, it came too late. Jason didn’t so much as pause and your body was already shuddering apart, tipped over the edge by the sound of his amusement. At the very least, coming rendered you silent, nothing more than little gasping groans leaving your open mouth as you clung to him, your cunt spasming around his cock. That seemed to be amusing to him too, his grinding relentlessly against your clit in time with each hard thrust.

“Unbelievable,” he said as you came down from the high, far too pleased with himself. The TV on the other side of the wall was far louder now, you could hear the individual voices attempting to drown out your own. 

“Jason, ss-stop” you begged, shaking your head, the words tight with your attempt to keep them quiet. 

“I’m not the one on my way to waking up half of Gotham.”

You whined in distress, pushing at him. 

“Alright, alright,” he relented, pulling out and letting you fall to your feet. 

Before your weak legs had the chance to give out beneath you, Jason whirled you both around to bend you over the back of your couch. And then he was inside of you again, driving home in one hard thrust, and you let out a shameless moan, not even thinking to stifle it. Jason moaned low, the blunt fingernails of one hand digging into one hip and the harsh fabric of his glove scraping against the other. 

The different angle had you seeing stars. Jason was able to be even more rough like this too, holding onto your hips to drag you down to meet each violent thrust. You clawed at your couch, your back arching in a borderline painful bow as you rocked back and forth onto your toes. This was worse. He rutted into you like an animal and you responded in kind, making noises you hadn’t thought yourself capable of as his cock tortured your cunt, fucking you so hard it hurt as much as it felt mind blowingly good. Ultimately, there was no difference. 

“Jason…Jason-”

“Again?” he asked. “You really are a princess.” His hand dropped between your legs and you wailed, trembling and mewling and absolutely beyond the capacity to take more. It was almost impressive how quickly overstimulation played on your nerves as he rubbed your clit, bypassing pleasurable sensation to be interpreted as nothing more than raw electrical impulses telling your brain how to react. 

He wanted you to come, so you did. He wanted you to scream his name, so you did. Your pussy clamped down around him as you tensed up so hard your entire body trembled with strain, accepting the torture of exess because the only thing worse than coming would be to not. You weren’t given any chance to come down either, Jason using your involuntary response to chase his own pleasure. Nothing existed except the slapping of skin and the filthy squelching and the wicked harmony of harsh breathing and moans. He said your name once, twice, a reverence in it that you’d never heard. You arched your back, begging to take him deeper, to be used for his pleasure. His hips stuttered, his grip on your waist bruising. 

Jason pulled out at the last second with a helpless sound, the head of his cock bumping against your ass as he finished himself off. Thick, hot ropes of cum hit your back, his breathing harsh and erratic and half voice. Then he stilled, his fingers tracing down your side gently as he released you. 

You wilted against the back of the couch, acutely aware of the aching emptiness inside of you. Not just your pussy, but all the way in your core. The neighbor’s TV was still on at full blast, but your apartment was a haven of nothing more than heavy breathing and the scent of filthy, depraved sex. You expected Jason to step away, to fix his clothes and leave you exposed, locked in a pillory of exhaustion and shame until you could force your body to move again. 

“Can you stand up?” Jason asked instead. 

You thought about it for a second before deciding that you probably could. The motion was mechanical, awkward. His cum was cooling on your back, mingling with the sweat and making filthy trails as it dripped down. But you managed, standing and turning around. When you stumbled, legs trembling, a pair of strong arms caught you. Jason pulled you against him. Gently, at first, pushing your head down against his chest while he wrapped his arms around you. Even with the layers between your ear and his skin, you thought you could hear the strong thumping of his heart. 

“Do you need me to carry you to bed?” Jason asked, petting your sweaty hair. You couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not. 

“Are you going to leave?” you asked, your voice distant. It seemed like an important question, but your brain was too foggy to really understand why. 

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Jason said. Despite his casual tone, you didn’t miss the way his arms tightened around you, holding you even closer. “It’s more fun when those scumbags have time to get comfortable.”

You hummed in agreement. The wind howled outside your window, the wind and the rain. But it did not reach you, found no place in your empty head. 

“I’m tired,” you mumbled. 

“No kidding,” Jason said. Then he sighed, stepping back and releasing you. Only for a moment, only long enough to crouch down and sweep you up into his arms. That jolted you awake fast, but even the surprise was fleeting. At this point, you were exhausted to the point of pain, wrung out completely and utterly. “You’re lucky you’re so cute,” he told you. “Otherwise I’d say you’re more trouble than you’re worth.” 

“You too,” you said. And maybe you weren’t exactly as tired as you were telling yourself, maybe there was a very conscious part of you lurking in the back of your mind that understood how terrible and dangerous this situation was. But you muffled it, blinking drowsily as Jason carried you into your bedroom. 

Jason chuckled. “You should be more careful, princess. Saying things like that-” He exhaled harshly, nuzzling your head gently. “I just might not wanna let you go.” 

[dracoxmalereader]

Silver "I"

Context: Fifth chapter of my older ravenclaw reader story. Takes place still during Umbridge's time at Hogwarts, still before she becomes headmistress, but at this point she's already getting super desperate to catch whatever Harry and the rest of thems has going on.

All chapters/parts together can be found on Wattpad and Ao3

Summary: Draco can't help but listen in on Crabbe and Goyle's gossiping about Umbridge using the cruciatus curse on students. Though, it is quite suspicious that the student in question is a sixth year ravenclaw, just like certain someone he knows...

Word Count: 879

The great hall hadn’t been the same in Dumbledore’s absence. The room once echoing with lively chatter had fallen mute, gradually being hacked to only dull whispers from those brave enough. The tables grew more sparse by the day, students opting to retire early to the common rooms or kill time elsewhere.

Even Draco had to admit it was a bummer, the silver “I” pinned to his robes growing duller with every boring meal he sat through. The hallways of the castle were lifeless, extravagant walls plagued with educational decrees.

Dinner was definitely the worst of all three meals, Draco decided. He picked at the food in front of him, zoned out to the background noise of his lackey’s hushed back-and-forth from either side of him. The large windows were dark, light of the hall reflecting off them and giving him little to get lost in.

“Really?” Crabbe was barely legible through his mouthful of food, but the draw of entertainment pulled Draco from his trance. Pansy Parkinson took her seat across from the trio, smoothing a wrinkle in her uniform skirt.

“I was there,” Goyle’s face held an ugly grin, smugness oozing from it. He continued, “I was the one that ratted him out, watched her do it myself.”

“Watched who do what?” Pansy leaned towards them, joining in on the conversation.

“Umbridge used the cruciatus curse on a sixth year-” Crabbe started. Draco hissed like he’d been burned.

“Gossip is heavily discouraged.” He scowled at Goyle before turning back to Crabbe. “And one must not tell lies, unless you’ve forgotten.”

Draco’s skin crawled at the mention of the curse, but he was not about to let his stupid goons mess up their positions in the Inquisitorial Squad because they had to run their mouths.

Crabbe chewed at him, swallowing heavily and licking his lips obnoxiously before responding. “I thought you two were friends though?”

Draco’s brows drew tight in confusion, anxiety blooming behind his ribs. How many sixth years was he friends with? He tried to reassure himself.

Goyle chuckled meanly, rude and teasing. “I thought he’d’ve told you first, you know how chatty those ravenclaws are.”

“Yeah, always yapping about something. Probably too scared to get on Draco’s bad side.” Crabbe snickered dumbly in return. He mocked, “One must not tell lies!”

Stomach churning, Draco suddenly found it hard to sit still. His lungs drew tight. His head was swimming with you, the thought of your blinking eyelashes not failing to make his heart beat faster even as concern clawed against the back of his throat. He felt his palms grow clammy.

He rolled his eyes and sneered. “What ravenclaw?”

“The one he ditched us for on the train last year?” Pansy bounced off his question. Draco’s blood felt like ice water in his veins and he held his breath at your blunt inclusion. He hoped neither inquiry would be answered.

“Yeah, that one.” Goyle confirmed. Draco felt sick. “Heard he’d been out by the greenhouses after hours, took fifty points from ravenclaw and went to Umbridge.”

Bile crept up Draco’s throat; the back of his tongue burned. The silver “I” on his robes felt like it weighed a thousand kilos. It felt like a dark mark. Shame bubbled in his chest. 

The power that came with his position in the Squad suddenly didn't feel worth it. He felt a little like a monster.

“Suspicious and outlawed activity, it’s no wonder she thought he was working with Dumbledore.” Goyle’s voice was grating, and Draco couldn’t shake the overwhelming image of you being tortured over something as ridiculous as watering plants.

His eyes felt like they were about to melt. Pansy eyed him suspiciously across the table, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“You alright, Draco?”

Goyle’s incessant laughter rang in his ears. “Probably upset I caught that stupid ravenclaw first-” Draco pushed out of his seat. He loomed over Goyle, breath coming out shaky, and his fingers trembled.

“Shut your fat mouth, Goyle.” His lips drew up at the sides in anger. The orange glow from the candles in the air felt blinding, his face went hot.

Draco wanted to punch Goyle in the nose, wanted to rip the silver “I” off his robes and throw it at Crabbe so hard it bruised. He shook his head, taking another, equally ragged breath to compose himself.

“You and your stupid rumors.” His voice was a growl, louder than was acceptable by educational decree, but Draco didn’t care.

His gaze turned to Pansy. She looked at him with a brow pulled up, concern and confusion on her face. He scoffed and turned away, jaggedly swaying from side to side as he stormed off down and out of the great hall.

“What’s got his robes in a knot today?” Goyle wore an offended expression.

Pansy opened her mouth, silent for a moment before speaking. “You think they’re…?” She trailed off at the end of the sentence, eyes pointing in the direction Draco had left and raising her brows at Crabbe and Goyle in suggestion.

The two boys stared quietly at her, expressions blank. Crabbe leaned forwards, tilting his head at her. “Think they’re what?”

She rolled her eyes, turning to the food on the table. “Nevermind.”

Pansy knows and honestly idk if that's a good or a bad thing yet. I should probably have the story more planned out by now because I'm 5 chapters into it but nope. Just winging it. Also I'm leaving it up to interpretation whether or not the reader actually got crucio'd because honestly while Umbridge would do that, Goyle would totally lie about it to sound cool. That's a headcanon but I've fully accepted it as fact.

I know Crabbe is supposed to be one of the brainless evil death eater goons but I wish he had more character exploration because honestly out of all the slytherins he's my second favorite after Draco 😭 You may not have much to go off of Crabbe, but you're forever an airheaded himbo softie in my HEART. Crabbe deserved a character arc I won't be taking critique on that (factual) opinion.

Tags: @nowayisthistakenyet @gayaristocrat @dracoshusband @hyperactivepest @esperfraud

[lokis-dark-queen]

Tropical Teasing (Tropical Tension Pt2)

Loki/Fem Reader Smut

Summary: Loki and his love are enjoying a blissful, romantic vacation after their first night together. However, after Loki leaves an embarrassing mark on her neck, she pushes herself away from him for a few hours. Little does she know, a few hours without Loki feels like a guilt filled lifetime.

Warnings/Notes: SMUT 18+ MDNI!!! A lil bit of angst, depressed Loki, bisexual reader and Loki (they literally come out to each other it’s adorable), lots of teasing, Unprotected sex, Beach Sex, Skinny Dipping, Oral (F and M receiving), other stuff I probably forgot.

Word Count: 9.3k

Also on AO3

*Header from Pinterest*

“This isn’t a honeymoon you guys.” 

Agent Barton’s words were lost in a haze of love and lust from you and Loki. A whole year of teasing from the two of you came to head within one night and now you couldn’t get enough of each other. Every touch, every kiss was intoxicating. You were addicted.

It was day three of your seven day getaway and you and Loki were on each other like it was mating season. Within this short time you nearly lost count of the orgasms he had given you. That number would only increase within the coming days. You were for sure of that as he currently was buried in your cunt. 

It was intended to be an innocent shower to clean up before you met with your friends at the resort for massages. Loki raised an eyebrow at this activity and questions spewed endlessly from his lips. 

“You’ll be undressed in front of others?” 

“Well, yes and no. I’ll be covered with a long towel.” You tirelessly answer. 

“Who is touching you in such a way? It certainly isn’t me.” He pries even more. 

“A professionally trained masseuse who has done this a million times. Nakedness is not always sexual. I've had a tiring past month, I need to relax.” You tell him, undressing for a quick shower. 

“That’s my job! Have I not fulfilled you, my love?” He walks closer, running his fingers down your spine. 

“You have fulfilled me plenty, Loki. And you will have many opportunities to do it again. But please, don’t worry about it. It’s an innocent massage.” You reason with him, brushing his dark hair from his bare shoulders. 

Loki sighed, he could only be stubborn for so long. He did say that he wanted you to enjoy your trip after all. “Fine. Do not forget who you belong to.” He kisses your temple possessively. 

“And who is that? Because I think it's Fury with all the work he’s been making me do.” You roll your eyes, recalling the tiring mission. 

“Stop that, don’t make me remind you!” He threatens. 

“Maybe I do need a refresher.” You tease. Even after he claimed you for the first time and confessed his love for you, the teasing would never end. 

That was how you ended up in your current position with your back sliding up and down the wet, tile wall of the hotel shower. Loki supported your body with his hands hooked under your thighs as he thrusted between them, his forehead resting on your shoulder. Your fingernails dug into the wet flesh of his pale shoulders as you both chased your highs. 

“Hurry- Loki- I’m gonna AH! I’m gonna be late!” You remind him of your plans in broken moans. 

“Don’t rush me, woman!” He growls, raising his head to bite at the base of your neck. A gesture you didn’t think too much of at the moment. “We’re done when you cum around my cock and I cum inside that pretty cunt.” 

“Yeah, that’s the whole point.” You giggle teasingly before one hand wraps around your throat. 

“Watch that smart mouth around me, pet. Or I'll put it to better use and leave you needy for me.” He threatens. 

His bold action and words pushed you closer to the edge, your legs wrapped tighter around his moving hips. 

“N-no sir- I’m sorry! I’ll be good- PLEASE!” You scream out for him, hoping the running water will conceal your screams to avoid another noise complaint. 

“Good girl.” His hand drops from your neck to run tight circles around your clit, “Now cum for me.” 

You scream out his name as you follow his stern orders. Your pussy clenching around his thrusting cock just like he wanted. Your orgasm triggering his own. A deep, breathy moan slipped from his pink lips as he spilled his cum deep inside you. Thankfully, in this setting, cleanup wouldn’t be much of an issue. 

After your short shower session, you sat at the vanity, drying your hair as fast as you could to make it in time. You watched Loki behind you from the reflection of the mirror as he dried his perfect body, still very much naked. 

You smiled to yourself, wondering how you landed such a perfect man who was also amazing in the bedroom. Was it because he was a god? Or was he just very experienced? He was over a thousand years old, so you imagined he had some impressive sexual conquests under his literal and metaphorical belt. 

Turning your eyes back to yourself, you made a discovery. An obvious mark of Loki’s love at the base of your neck for all to see. Sure, basically everyone knew that you and Loki were fucking, but they didn’t need to be reminded every time they looked at you. All your sundresses were revealing, therefore you had no way to hide it. You clenched your jaw and whipped around to face the god behind you. 

“Loki!” You yell, quickly grabbing his attention. 

“What?” He asks with just a touch of too much attitude. 

“What! That’s all you have to say? Well I have a question for you mischief, what the hell is this?” You push your hair back and pull the collar of your silk robe aside, revealing the mark to his eyes. 

Loki smirked, fully aware of what he had done, “That? Well darling, that is my mark to show whoever touches you that you are mine.” He states as if it was obvious. 

“No! It’s embarrassing! Everyone saw us Loki, they heard us! This is completely unnecessary.” You scold him, giving him a light smack on his chest when you approached his bare form. 

“Maybe they did. But the masseuse didn’t.” He replies confidently, like a smartass. 

Now, you loved Loki, and you would never hurt him. But gods above, you were so tempted to smack him across his pretty face so hard that the smirk he was currently donning would fly across the room and never return. You simply just rolled your eyes, turning to your makeup bag to grab some last minute coverup. 

“Now I'm really going to be late.” You growl to yourself, giving a deadly side glance to Loki. 

“Hey! What are you doing? Are you trying to hide-” 

“Yes, Loki! Yes I am!” Your playful teasing turning into a full blown argument. 

Loki was taken back by your words, by your anger. He didn’t think you would care so much. He turned away, clothing himself with magic before sitting on your shared bed, sulking, hoping you would feel sorry for him. Like you always did before. 

You sloppily covered the hickey in a rush before throwing on a flowy sundress with a white bikini underneath, choosing to wear swimwear instead of underwear on this vacation. You walked to the door, pausing to look at Loki as he slumped on the bed. 

“I’ll see you at dinner.” You say before making your leave. 

“Wait!” Loki stops you in your tracks, much to his relief, you stop and hear what he has to say. 

“What?” You ask in an impatient tone. 

“I can remove it with magic, if you want.” He offers. 

You sigh, cocking your head towards the gloomy god, “Don’t bother.” Was the last words you muttered before closing the door. Loki was surprised you didn’t take him up on his offer, perhaps you weren't as angry as you led on. 

The raven haired man plopped on the bed, what was he to do while you were away? He hoped that you wouldn’t be angry when he saw you again, perhaps he should apologize. He truly didn’t expect you to be so upset about his mark. Seeing you angry genuinely scared him, it was not an emotion that he wanted you to feel towards him. He only wanted to make you happy, he feared he had already ruined things between you. Maybe he was truly never meant to be loved. Loki felt no motivation to go outside and socialize. He used his magic to close the curtains, covering the view that you loved so much as he laid on the bed. At least you were enjoying yourself on vacation. 

–

Your sandals slapped against the polished floor of the hotel lobby as you met with your friends, who were all waiting for you. 

“Sorry I’m late.” You apologize as you approach the girls. 

“It’s okay, I was once in a new, budding relationship as well.” Wanda states, playfully winking at you. 

You laugh uncomfortably, they all knew, there was no need to obviously remind them with a mark on your skin. 

Wanda and Pepper look around the resort as you walk to your massage appointment. You quietly trail behind them, recalling your quarrel with Loki. Part of you felt guilty, maybe you should have at least resolved things before leaving. You knew how he could get, he was most likely wallowing in his own pity right now. He never dealt with arguments well, you knew that after hearing his many fights with Thor. You remembered how he would lock himself inside of his room. On a good day he would just be reading a book, acting like the situation never happened. Other times, he would wallow in his bed for days on end, until you went in there to cheer him up. 

You knew that you were most likely his only source of happiness in this mortal world he found himself in. And his only source of happiness just yelled at him for trying to show his love in the only way he knew how, by being possessive. Loki didn’t have many things to himself growing up. He had to share his mother and father’s attention with Thor, one more than the other. As they became grown men, they would even have to share the same women who brought them pleasure late at night. Loki felt as if he was constantly being compared to his brother, so when he had you, he wanted to make sure that you were only his. Not just so that his brother knew, but that the whole word knew that you were his. Guilt filled your veins as you thought it over, half tempted to ditch your friends and go smooth things over with him before he got too depressed over it. 

“What are you zoning out about?” Natasha spoke up next to you, pulling you out of your trance.

You sighed, deciding to be honest with her, “I yelled at Loki over something that wasn’t a big deal. I was just stressed that I would be late. I feel so awful.” You confess to your best friend. 

“Why did you yell at him?” She asks. 

You tense up, face flushed. It was all so embarrassing, “Well… he um.” You stuttered in an attempt to get the words out, “He gave me a ‘mark’ in a place that was too visible.” You answered in a hushed tone, making sure the two women in front of you didn’t hear. 

Natasha laughed, “What? That’s it? I thought he put baby powder in your hairdryer or something mischievous like that. He seems like the kind of guy who would do that. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.” 

“It would have been fine if he didn’t give it to me at the last minute before I had to leave.” You roll your eyes. 

“You two were going at it before you met us? No wonder you were late. Where is it?” Her curiosity getting the best of her. 

“Here.” You bashfully point to the poorly covered spot on your neck, apparently it wasn’t that bad if a super spy hadn’t noticed it immediately.

“Oh… I see it now. You tried your best covering it up, huh?” 

“Yeah.” You breathed out sarcastically, letting your hair fall into place to cover the faded mark. 

“He’s just insecure. He wants to make sure everyone knows you’re his property.” The redhead laughs. 

“I’m not ‘property’, don’t put it like that. It's embarrassing.” 

“Just to remind you, he was basically between your thighs the other night as he licked salt from between your tits and slowly took that lime from your mouth. Is his little mark more embarrassing than that?” She reminds you. 

All you wanted to do right now was crawl into a hole and bury yourself. You put yourself on full display for everyone just so that Loki would make a brave move. Now you shamed him for doing the equivalent, you wanted to go back to him, you needed to. 

“We’re here!” Pepper squeals in excitement as all of you approach the entry of the resort. Four private massage tables were set up with a view of the beach and you reminded yourself how sore your muscles were. 

‘Surely he’ll be okay for another hour.’

Each of you walk into different rooms to undress, wrapping your bare form in a robe before walking out. You inspected yourself in the mirror first, the quick makeup job on your neck was fading from your sweat thanks to the humid air. You grabbed a tissue to rub the rest off. 

‘Fuck it’ 

–

The sound of the waves calmed you as the masseuse worked at your tense muscles. Your argument with Loki had been long forgotten as the world melted away in perfect silence. 

Unfortunately, the silence only lasted for a few fleeting seconds before the girls around you decided to start talking, gossiping about their personal lives. It didn’t take long for them to start talking about their men. 

“I love Tony and all, but his ego just ruins him for others. If only they could all see how he is with me, no smartass comments, he just only says yes around me. It’s amazing.” Pepper once again tries to defend Stark. 

“No smartass comments? Yeah, I don’t buy that for a second.” Natasha doubts the woman. 

“Well, not in an egotistical way, it’s more in a flirtatious way.” She claims. 

“Oh, if only Vision knew what flirting was. It’s so cute in a way, he is terrible at taking hints.” Wanda rolls her eyes sarcastically. 

“He’s lucky he has you then, or else Tony would have to build another robot to keep him company.” Natasha giggles as the witch throws her a glare. 

“What about you?” Wanda says your name, pulling you into the conversation unwillingly, “What is Loki like as a lover?” 

“Yeah, and we want all the dirty details.” Natasha wiggles an eyebrow from her face down position. 

“Well, maybe not all of them. We are in public.” Pepper reminds the ladies. 

You sighed, groaning at the thought of the god who was most likely sulking in your room right now and the masseuse working on a knot in your lower back. 

“He’s amazing. What else is there to say?” You simply state. 

“Oh c’mon, you guys have had unbearable tension for like a year. There has to be more to it than that.” Natasha turned her head to the side so that you could see her eyes roll. 

“He’s so shy, is he like that with you?” Pepper asks. 

“Absolutely not, and he’s not shy. He just hates everyone.” You scoff. 

“Oh? So he’s more dominant?” Natasha questions, clearly wanting to know the more perverted details. 

“Nat!” Pepper scolds the curious spy. 

“What? It’s just girl talk.” Natasha plays it off. 

“We are not the only ones here!” Pepper stresses, reminding you of the four masseuses working on all of you. 

“We’ve heard worse.” The woman who is currently working on loosening up your shoulders speaks up. 

Natasha laughs and persits with her dirty questions, “See? They’ve heard it all.” 

You sigh, if they want to hear it, then you'll give it to them. “Where do I start? He’s so gentle and cautious at first, almost like he’s afraid to hurt me. And he teases, it’s almost unbearable sometimes. He doesn’t just jump right into it, oh no, he takes his sweet time. Oh, and he insists on going down on me. I don’t have to ask or tell him what to do, he just knows, y’know?” You pause, the other women completely silent, invested in every word you said, “The name ‘silver tongue’ holds many meanings. After I literally have to push him away from me, he always asks if I'm okay. He whispers into my ear and holds me like a porcelain doll, you wouldn’t believe how gentle he can be. What next? Oh, he’s huge by the way. I sometimes ask myself, ‘how is he so perfect?’ Then I remember that he is a literal god. I have a faint idea of how much of a whore he was in Asgard, but with what he knows how to do, it’s fine. I’ll spare you the gory details, but I've never had to show him how to make me finish, he just knows. And afterwards, oh, he’s so sweet and caring, you wouldn’t believe it’s the same man.” You breathe in happily, recalling every intimate moment the two of you have shared within the past seventy-two hours, heat rushing between your legs as you did so. “So that’s what it’s like to sleep with a god, since you were so curious.” 

A stiff moment of silence covers the room, the women finally shutting up as you listen to the crash of the waves in the distance in content.

“Maybe I haven't heard it all.” The masseuse finishes up your massage with the others, your blissful hour has come to an end. 

You sit up slowly, your once tense muscles now relaxed as you wrap yourself in a towel to cover yourself, the other women doing the same as they all look at you with horror in their pretty eyes. 

“Are you sure you guys have only been banging for like three days? Because what you said sounds like at least a few months worth of experience.” Wanda breaks the silence with a question. 

“Oh, it has been a very eventful three days.” You admit. 

“I can tell.” Wanda motions to the mark Loki had left. You now wore it with pride. It showed that he was yours just as much as you were his. 

“We’re not taking you anywhere until your honeymoon phase is over.” Pepper rolls her eyes, her freckled cheeks slightly flushed. 

“Hey! Nat started it!” You blame the woman sitting on the table that was next to yours. 

“No I didn’t!” She defends herself. 

“You did say that you wanted to hear all the dirty details.” Wanda reminds her. 

“I didn’t think that she would actually describe it!” She admits. 

You laugh at the women’s bickering, running your hand over the hickey. The mark you once were embarrassed of now felt comforting, like he was with you. You couldn’t get over the sinking feeling that he needed you right now. Not sexually, but emotionally.

–

When you and the girls arrived at the hotel you found everyone at the private seating area outside, waiting for dinner to be served. However, Loki was nowhere to be found. You had a feeling he wouldn’t be here, you doubt that he left the room at all today.

“Have you seen Loki today?” You ask Thor after waving him down. 

“I thought he was with you all day.” He states, gnawing gluttonously at a kebab.

You sigh at his response. This was a vacation for christ’s sake! Even if you did piss him off he should be outside reading a book by the pool at least. You immediately go back inside the hotel and head for your shared room. Once again you would have to cheer him up, and give him an apology. 

When you opened the door to your room it was pitch black, the curtains drawn shut. If you didn’t know any better you would assume it was empty. That was until you saw a god sized lump underneath the white, pristine hotel sheets. Had he seriously been there all day? 

“Loki, it’s time to eat. I’m sure you’re hungry.” You tell him, sitting at the edge of the bed. 

His only response was a few muffled groans underneath the covers, you couldn’t make out what he was saying. 

“I can’t hear you, my love.” You lean in closer, pulling the top of the blanket down past his head. 

“Not hungry.” Was all he said in return. 

“Yes you are, you haven’t eaten all day. I know you haven't, so don't try to lie to me.” 

He stayed silent, you didn’t think that you hurt him this much. You rub his back over the covers, even under the sheets you could feel his muscles relax at your touch. He missed your touch all day, even when you were apart for a mere few hours, he longed for you. 

“Loki… I am so sorry. I overreacted this morning. I know how you are, I know you want everyone to know that I am yours. I’m just not used to that type of affection, it’s new for me. But they know now.” You smile to yourself as his back is turned to you. Your fingers travel upwards to play with the tangled, black locks of hair. “They asked about you, my friends. Do you want to know what I said to them?” 

“What?” He mutters his question. 

“I told them about how amazing you are. How sweet and gently you treat me, like I’m a princess. I had to let them know how perfect you were so that all their boyfriends would feel inferior. Because now they know that I have the best man I could ever ask for.” You lean down to kiss his cheek. The slight taste of salt lingered from your lips, he must have been crying. 

He shifted, blankets rustling as he turned to face you, “Is that true?” He asks, taking your hand into his. 

“Would I ever lie to my god?” You hold his hand tightly, making sure he never lets go. 

“I suppose not.” Even in the dark of the room you can see his beautiful smile. 

You lean your body over his to place a soft kiss on his lips, they were dry. Clearly he didn’t eat or drink anything today. His large hands ran up your body, memorizing every curve in the dark like he was being tested on it. The kiss deepens as you push your body closer to his. He felt your skin in the darkness, it was soft from the massage oil. After a few more seconds you pulled away, resting your forehead against his. 

“How was your massage, darling?” He asks, tracing circles on your bare shoulder blades and fidgeting with the straps of your sundress. 

“It was amazing, I feel so much better.” You admit, falling into his touch. You hovered your face next to his to whisper in his ear, “I wished it was you though. I had to keep myself from imagining your hands all over me so I wouldn’t get horny.” 

Loki chuckles, “Poor thing, I was wrong to assume that you would forget who you belong to.” 

You sit up, straddling his hips that were covered by multiple layers of fabric. He holds both of your hands with his. Using his magic to turn on the lights so he could properly see you above him. His pupils widened at the sight of you. Your skin had a beautiful shine, your cleavage was very visible from his place beneath you and the skirt of your dress sprawled around your slightly spread thighs. He could see the mark that he left, no trace of makeup was found on top of it. 

“I love it when you admit that you’re wrong.” You giggle, putting more weight on your hands as he pushes back, keeping you relying on his strength to keep you from falling face first. 

“Don’t get used to it.” He rolls his eyes, letting go of your hands before sliding his fingers under the skirt of your dress. You began to feel his hardness underneath the comforter. A wet spot started to form in your bikini bottoms as he fidgeted with the waistband.

Between the relaxing massage and your current situation, your arousal was becoming too strong to ignore. However, the growl in your stomach showed what you needed more at the moment. 

“Loki, I love you. But I’m so hungry, can we eat first?” You ask him. 

Loki groaned in annoyance, “Just something quick?” He answers your question with another question. Though it was more of an offer for a compromise. 

“I was thinking we could save it all for later. I want to go to the beach.” You tell him. 

“So I have to wait until after dinner and a beach trip? Are you trying to kill me?” He attempts to guilt you. 

You laugh at his borderline whining, “Let me reiterate, I want to have dinner, then go to the beach. A very private beach, alone with you.” You smirk, knowing he would get the hint. 

You intended to have your private beach time with Loki last night, you had both hinted at it all day. That was until you got pulled into a drinking game with Natasha that you utterly lost and Loki had to carry you back up to your room. 

His smirk matched yours, “You will not be having a drop of alcohol tonight to ensure that.” He demands. 

You place your hand over your heart, “You have my word, tonight is about us.” 

Finally, he sits up with you still on top of him, “As every night should be. Shall we?” He lifts you off of him and stands from the bed, placing you next to him. 

Loki certainly looked like he literally laid in bed all day. His hair was a mess, his shirt long gone, and his lounge pants hung low on his hips. It was an insanely attractive look, though unfortunately, it was not dinner appropriate. 

“You don’t look very ready.” You point out his disheveled appearance. 

His appearance changes, a dark green tee covers his once exposed chest that you already missed dearly. Loose lounge pants turned into tight, black jeans, perfectly showing off the erection that you caused. 

“Better?” He sarcastically asks, slightly raising his arms to present himself in his iconic pose. 

“For now.” You tease and kiss him on the cheek. 

–

You and Loki walked out to the outside dining area hand in hand. Everyone was too focused on their individual conversations to pay the two of you any mind. You felt relieved that everyone seemed to have already grown used to your relationship with Loki, or they just ignored it. You were happy either way, being teased by him and Natasha was enough. Extra pairs of prying eyes and questioning tongues would be too much for you to handle. You enjoyed being alone with him, even in a crowd it just felt like the two of you as he held your hand. 

Loki quickly made his way to the self-serve buffet, dragging you behind him as you attempted to keep up with his stride. 

“I thought you weren’t hungry?” You ask teasingly, recalling his dramatic words from earlier. 

“Realistically, I could go days without eating. Tonight, however, I am hungry for something more delicious than any meal on earth or Asgard.” He turns slightly to give you a lustful glare, “Therefore, I want to eat and get out of here as quickly as possible.” He states, loading two plates, one for you and one for him. 

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, mischief. If you eat too fast you’ll get sick and then neither of us get what we want.” You tell him. 

Loki scoffs as he holds the plates and guides you to a lonesome table, “Unlike you, darling, I have self control. And I know better than to get involved in a drinking contest with a Russian woman.” 

“I never turn down a challenge, you of all people should know that.” You roll your eyes as you sit down to eat. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t get alcohol poisoning.” He states, remembering how he carried your drunken form all the way back to your room from the beach. 

“I have a great tolerance, excuse you. I lasted longer than the other girls.” You remind him. 

Loki let out a sarcastic chuckle before taking another bite. You loved to see him like this. He was always happiest when he could be himself, teasing you and being generally mischievous. 

Almost on cue, Natasha walks over with a drink in her hand, “Drink?” She offers, giving Loki a knowing look as he glared at her. 

You laugh at the way they looked at each other with fuming anger, “Not tonight, Natty. I’m still recovering.” You put your hand up slightly as you turned down her offer. 

“If you say so.” She smirks, taking a sip of the drink, “Any big plans tonight?” She asks. 

“We were just going to go walk our dinner off at the beach afterwards.” You tell her, purposefully keeping your plans vague. Loki nodded along, hoping that your friend would mind her own business for once. 

Natasha smirks, knowing that she was currently pissing off your boyfriend, “Me and the girls were thinking of a night swim, would you like to join us?” She asks you, ignoring Loki’s painful glare. 

Before you could answer, Loki speaks up for you, “No. She would not.” 

You try your best to not giggle at him, he was making damn sure that he would not be deprived of you for another night. 

“Hey! How about you let her answer the question.” She snaps at him, leaning down to whisper not so quietly in your ear, “Is he always this controlling? I’m worried.” She asks, knowing that Loki could fully hear her. 

Glancing at Loki’s handsome, unamused face, you answered her. “He’s just antsy, I promised him something.” You hint, hoping that your answer would push her away. 

“Ooh-” She realizes and stands up straight, raising her hands on your shoulders, “I see how it is.” She brushed your hair back to reveal the mark at the base of your neck. Loki was about to leave fifty more on you if she kept this up, “Have fun with her, she’s special, y’know?” 

You giggle at her words, she was doing everything she could to make him despise her right now. 

“Oh- I am very aware of how special she is.” He growls, eyes fuming with jealousy. It caused a rush of heat to flow between your thighs. 

“Good. Because if you hurt her, I will kill you.” She threatens the god across from you. 

You speak up before Loki could get a word out, “Thank you, Natasha. Go bother Steve or Bruce.” You suggest. 

She giggles before stepping away, “If you insist, see you around.” She plays with your hair once more before walking back to her table. 

You watch her before turning back to the jealous god, his glare now turned on you. 

“What?” You ask with a hint of attitude. 

Loki sighs, sitting back in his chair, “Finish your dinner.”

Both of you finished your food in a rushed silence. Loki wanted nothing more than to slip away from the crowd with you, unnoticed and unbothered. 

As the two of you went to make your leave, Thor stepped in front of Loki, stopping his eager brother in his tracks. 

“Brother! Off so soon? There is a whole night ahead of us! Give the lady a break.” Thor slurs, clearly a few drinks in. 

Loki rolls his eyes at Thor. You stood next to him in silence, watching the way Loki clenched his jaw in annoyance. He was so hot when he was pissed, and everyone seemed to go out of their way to get on his nerves tonight. In an unintended way, it prolonged your teasing. Loki would have a copious amount of pent up emotions that he would be taking out on you in the best way possible later. And you couldn’t wait.

“Mind your own, brother. She is fine.” He holds your hand a little tighter. 

“I’ve had a long day Thor, I’m just ready to retire for the night. I’ll join you guys tomorrow.” You speak up, intending on sounding like you innocently wanted to go to bed. 

Thor’s eyes dart between you and Loki for a few seconds, then a warm smile appears on the blond god’s face, “If you insist.” He acknowledges your statement before he looked at his raven haired brother, “I’m happy for you, Loki. You deserve a love like her’s” He pats his younger brother on the shoulder. 

You could tell that Loki was caught off guard by Thor’s words. Even if they were the words of a tipsy god, they were sincere. Loki is frozen in place, staring at his brother with wide eyes as he stumbles away, demanding another drink from the bar. 

“Hey, are you okay?” You ask as you squeeze his hand for comfort. 

Loki breaks out of his trance and looks over to you, “Never better.” He smiles genuinely. Your chest warmed and your heart skipped a beat. He was so beautiful when he was happy. It wasn’t an emotion that he showed to others often. You get to see that smile every day, the same smile that you see when you wake up next to him in the morning after a night of pleasure. It was the smile of a man who had found everything he wanted after years of searching. You mirrored his joy with a smile of your own. Everyone probably thought the two of you looked insane as you briefly shared a moment of happiness with him. They would never understand how he made you feel. 

–

The water reflected the pale moonlight as you walked hand in hand with Loki across the shore. You were making your way to a secluded cove that you found earlier, knowing that it would be the perfect spot. Your other hand held a rolled up beach towel that you quickly grabbed from your room. Sex on the beach was exciting and all, however, you wanted to keep the sand out of places it had no business being in. 

Loki was surprisingly quiet. At first you wondered if he was still upset from this morning, then you realized that for once in his long life, he was at peace. He didn’t have to prove himself to anyone or deal with the stress of battle. He was content. You could tell that he was thinking though, what it was about, you had no idea. 

“Are you still there?” You quietly ask him. 

“Me? Of course I am.” He answers. 

“Just making sure. Y’know, if you’re tired we can just head back-” You began to tease before he cut you off. 

“No! This is all I longed for all day, we will not be interrupted in our time together.” He growled, walking a little faster to reach your destination ahead. 

“Just making sure.” You giggle at his eagerness, “You just looked lost in thought. Was it Thor?” 

Loki sighs, “Partially, Yes. He caught me off guard with that statement.” He admits. 

“You know what they say, drunken words are sober thoughts. He loves you, Loki. No matter what, he will always be your brother.” 

“I know. He’s an oaf, but I love him. He’s all I have for my family. Don’t tell him that I said that.” His voice darkens threateningly at his last few words. 

“I won’t.” You laugh a little at his empty threat, “What else are you thinking about?” 

“What makes you think I’m thinking of something else?” He questions. 

“Well, you said that Thor was partially the reason. What’s the other part?” You hoped you weren’t prying too much. 

Loki gives you a strange side glance before looking ahead once more, “Natasha. She’s too comfortable.” 

“Ooh-” You realize his jealousy, “You know how us girls can be, we tell each other everything.” 

“I am aware of how your female friendships can be. But she’s… flirting.” He states in concern. 

“Don’t feel threatened by her, she just likes to tease.” You tell him, hoping to ease his worries. 

“May I ask you something personal, darling? You don’t have to answer if you don’t feel comfortable.” His thumb strokes the skin of your soft hand, reminding you that you were safe with him. 

“What is it?” You ask cautiously. 

Loki is silent for a few seconds, mentally searching for the correct words to say. “I apologize if I misread things, please tell me if I'm wrong. You are just so close, so comfortable with her. I know that you aren’t like that with the others. Was there ever a point where you two were perhaps… more than friends?” He reveals his curiosity. 

Your eyes widened a bit, he noticed everything, “It was never serious, just some fun to keep each other company late at night.” You admit.

“I’m sorry if I was prying too much. I was just curious.” He apologizes. 

“It’s fine. I’m not ashamed or anything, girls are hot too.” You tell him, feeling comfortable in his presence. 

“So… You are interested in both sexes?” He asks for your confirmation. 

“Who am I to be picky? I’ve felt this way since I was pretty young. It isn’t a problem, is it?” You look at him in a brief fear of rejection. 

“No no! Not at all, I am the same way!” He admits with pride, happy that he can share this topic with you. 

Pure joy runs through your body as you stop walking and leap into his arms, “I love you, so much. Thank you for sharing this with me.” 

Loki kisses your forehead, cradling your head as he did so, “I love you too, darling. You mean everything to me.” 

You both pull back from the tight embrace to meet your lips in a passionate kiss. The waves of the endless ocean lapped over your bare feet as you stood on the tips of your toes to kiss the tall god. His strong arms wrapped possessively around your waist as he pulled you flush with his body. His neglected erection from earlier pressed against your lower stomach as he pushed his hips into yours slightly. 

“How much longer?” He asks, growing impatient. 

“It’s right up ahead.” You take his hand and lead him towards the secluded cove. 

A brisk walk turned into a slow jog with Loki. Eventually, you dropped his hand and ran in front of him as he kept up. The thrilling feeling of being chased by the ravenous god turned you on immensely. It was like you were the prey and he was the hunter, ready to claim his next meal. 

The privacy of the cove soon surrounded you as you finally reached your destination. When you stopped running and looked behind you, Loki was nowhere to be found. You grew scared for a fleeting second before you felt two strong arms cage your body from behind. You gasp as Loki places a kiss on your neck. 

“Cheater!” You accuse him, knowing he teleported ahead of you. 

“All is fair in love and war.” He retorts before laying the towel neatly on the ground with his magic. 

Still standing, he kisses you deeply, passionately. The crescent moon gave the perfect amount of light as it reflected off the water. Loki slid the straps of your dress off your bare shoulders, kissing your skin as he did so. You knew he would leave more marks. Now, however, you wanted them. You belonged to Loki and he belonged to you. And who is to say that you can’t leave a few marks of your own on his glowing alabaster skin? 

Your hands slide underneath his emerald green tee, lifting it slightly to expose his perfect stomach. You ran your hand up from his abdomen to his chest. Loki took the hint, pulling away from the kiss as he raised the useless fabric over his head. Gods he was beautiful. 

Stepping back before his lips could find yours again, you abandon your dress. The only fabric on your body was the white bikini you had been wearing all day. 

“What was that you said? About how you swam naked on Asgard?” You start with a smirk. 

Loki’s lips twitched, knowing where this was going. “That it was the way the gods intended.” He finishes. 

“And who are we to disappoint them?” You ask, untying your bikini top. Loki quickly removes his pants and underwear, leaving him perfectly bare before you in the moonlight. 

Before your fingers could slip into your bottoms to remove them, Loki interrupted, “Please, allow me.” He offers, as if he wanted to unwrap his own gift. 

You raise your hands in surrender, allowing Loki to do as he wished. He got on his knees in front of you, his hand pressed on your inner thigh, motioning for you to part your legs slightly. You do as he wants, standing with your legs slightly wider so that he can remove your final piece of clothing, if you could even call it that. He slowly slips the smooth bottoms from your hips, letting his hands run over your ass as he did so. Loki places a chaste kiss on your hip bone, worshiping you as if you were the god in this situation. Finally, the white bottoms fall to the sand beneath you, a visible wet spot from your arousal was evidence for your desire. 

Loki slowly stands so that he is towering over you once again. His hands run down your back to your ass, giving it a slight squeeze which causes you to jump slightly at his touch. You start walking backwards toward the ocean behind you, stopping once the water kisses your heels. Loki was right in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours despite your nude form that he could be staring at if he so wished. Instead he focused on you, the way that your hand wrapped around his arm to lead him into the water with you. He didn’t just want your body, he wanted your soul. 

Loki switched your positions so that he was the one leading you into the vast water, you held his hands as the waves lapped around your waist. He pulled you flush with him once again, pulling you into another passionate kiss. Everything felt ethereal, his wet skin against yours, the motion of the water against your body, it felt like a dream. Loki gently bit your lip teasingly as he pulled away, leaving you craving his taste. His hand cups some of the salty water and playfully pours it over your head, he watches as the droplets run down your nose, to your jaw, and eventually down your neck and chest. 

“Great, now I have to wash my hair again.” You pout. 

“Shhh…” He leans closer to your ear, his hand finding its place as it cupped one of your breasts, “No complaints tonight, just go with it.”

You gasp as two of his fingers tease your nipple, causing it to harden beneath his pinching motions. Your nails rake down the pale expanse of his back to his ass. You can’t help but give it a playful smack beneath the water. 

“Watch it.” He growls in his best attempts to be intimidating. 

“Apologies, my king. I suppose you can’t take what you hand out.” You smirk. 

Loki simply responds by splashing you once again as he laughed. You do the same in return, making sure to soak his black curls. What was foreplay with Loki without at least a little bit of mischief? You expected him to splash you even harder, or maybe dunk you beneath the water. Instead he smiles, feeling a certain type of happiness that he had never felt before. He could never describe it if he tried, but it was a feeling that he could certainly get used to. His genuine smile threw you off guard for a few seconds. Your heart may have skipped a few beats at the sight of his pure happiness. 

Once his eyes found yours again, he pulled your body towards him. Bending his knees slightly, he held the backs of your thighs and motioned for you to jump slightly so that he could hold you up. With no words exchanged, you took his hints, wrapping your legs around his slutty waist. His throbbing cock pressed against your wet cunt, causing you to moan at the contact. Your lips found his once again, your arms wrapped around his neck as he began to walk back to the shore. A slight chill ran over your wet skin as the humid air made contact with it. 

When you and Loki completely emerged from the waves, lips never parting, he laid you down gently on the towel he had laid out. His perfect frame encased yours as he made his way down your body, placing wet kisses on your salty skin. Your fingers tangled in his raven locks that fell over his shoulders like a waterfall in the night. His lips ghosted over your mound, once again he was about to eat you out until you saw figurative stars instead of the literal ones that watched you in the sky. 

One fat lick from his tongue on your slit had you gasping for air. “So wet for me, like a good girl.” He growls seductively. 

“It’s always for you.” You speak quietly, he still hears you over the sound of the crashing waves. 

“As it should always be.” You feel him smirk against your pussy before he opens his mouth more to slip his tongue in and out of your wet entrance and up to your clit, where he circles it expertly. 

Soon his fingers join in. Along with his tongue and lips, he brings your climax closer and closer. A needy groan escaped his lips and reverberated through your core when you pulled on his hair, knowing that he absolutely loves it. 

“L-Loki, i’m not… gonna-” You attempt to warn him among wanton moans, “I’m not gonna last.”

He stops his oral motions and continues to circle your clit with his skilled fingers, “So soon? How desperate were you for me all day?”

“S-so desperate, my king.” You moan out his ego boosting nickname. 

“And you expect your king to grant you mercy tonight? After you treated him so poorly?” He teases, recalling your earlier interaction that you still felt guilty about. 

“I’m sorry, Loki… AGH!” You squeal as two of his fingers dip inside of your entrance. 

“Ohh~ I know sweet thing. I’ll accept your apology if you cum on my fingers right now. Show me how much you need me.” He encourages you with a seductive growl. 

With a desperate yet worshiping scream of his name that faded into the salt air, you came around his talented fingers. He pumped them slowly, working you gently through your high as his eyes remained trained on your bliss ridden face. You grabbed his wrist as you became overstimulated. He withdrew and leaned down to kiss your panting lips. 

“You did so well darling.” He mumbles against the soft skin of your lips. His hand ran up and down the skin of your trembling thigh. 

You smiled, finally opening your eyes that were once screwed shut to meet his. Your hands cupped his beautiful face before running down his neck to his pale chest. You sat up, using your momentum to push him so that he laid on his back against the towel. Your legs rested on either side of his hips as your lips began to explore downwards from his neck.

“I’m afraid…” You speak against his skin before raising your head to look him in the eye, “Just an apology won’t suffice.” The tip of your finger ran down his abdominal muscles to his happy trail and eventually the base of his throbbing cock. 

“I can assure you it will. However, you do as you see fit to show how sorry you are.” He smirks in hidden excitement for what you are about to do. 

“Oh, I will.” Your mouth makes its way down his torso to meet your hand at his member. 

In your oral apology, you still can’t help but tease him. His desperate whines were music to your ears as you placed light kisses on his leaking tip and down his shaft. His strong hand held your hair like the true gentleman he was. You even swore you heard him mutter a soft “please”. 

Deciding that you were already too mean to him earlier today, you open your mouth to take his length. As you told the girls earlier, he was huge, you doubted that you could completely take him down your throat. Your hand massaged his base, moving downwards to play with his balls which caused his breath to hitch in his throat. This was your first time going down on him, and you were gonna make sure he would never forget it. 

Your tongue lapped around his head before moving down further on his shaft. Your eyes looked up at him to find his head completely thrown back in pleasure. Happy with his reaction, you took half of his cock into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you began to suck ever so slightly. Your hand continued to stroke what you assumed you couldn’t reach. Loki’s hand moved in tandem with your bobbing movements. 

“Fuck darling- that’s perfect.” He moaned, encouraging your movements. His hips raised in desperation to push his cock further into your mouth. Bracing yourself on his thighs, you allowed him to do so. You relaxed your throat to take as much of him as you could. Unfortunately, gagging was inevitable and you felt the need to come up for air. Loki must have sensed this as he spoke, “Through your nose, darling. Breathe.” He spoke like he was the one with a dick down his throat right now. 

Nevertheless, you took his advice and took a deep breath through your nostrils before Loki motioned for you to move your head again. For a few more seconds, you did as he asked before he moaned loudly and pushed you off. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask breathlessly, cautiously. 

Loki smiles beneath you, his hand raised to cup your cheek, “Of course not sweet girl. You were amazing, I just wanted to cum inside that pretty little cunt. If I may, of course.” 

You beam with pride at his praise, “Of course. I just haven’t done that excessively before.” You confess. It was true, you were never interested in going down on any of your male partners before, only doing it if you were comfortable, which was rarely. Loki was different, however, he deserved every touch and every ounce of praise. For the first time in your life, you actually enjoyed giving a blowjob. 

“Don’t grow tired of it now, love. We have four more vacation days ahead of us, and many, many more after that.” He smirks briefly before you lean down to place a kiss on his boastful lips. 

Your wet folds outline his cock against his stomach as you grind your hips against his. The kiss became deeper as his tongue slipped into your mouth. His hands grasped your hips, guiding their movements against him. 

“No more teasing today, please.” He begs, much to your surprise. 

“Aww, were you desperate for me too, mischief?” You rock your hips back, catching the tip of his cock. 

“Always, darling.” 

Happy with his answer, you slide down onto his twitching length. Both of you gasped in unison as you sat there for a few seconds. In his desperation, Loki began to thrust his hips upwards. Even beneath you, he still craved control. You moved in rhythm with him as you bounced on his cock. Your hands balanced you on his chest as his made their way up to your breasts that were bouncing hypnotically above him. 

“Loki- fuck… You feel so good inside me.” You moan out, barely thinking before you speak. 

“Good girl, keep riding me, just like that.” His words cause you to clench around his cock. 

Swiftly, Loki sat up, using one arm behind him to support his body as his other arm wrapped around your waist. He could be closer to you in this position, kiss you better, fuck you better. Your fingernails dug into his broad shoulders as his hips moved like the waves behind you. His mouth found the crook of your neck, after the first gentle bite, you knew there would be more marks. And now, you were ready for payback. 

Moving your hips in more of a grinding motion so that your clit would be stimulated by his pubic bone and hair, you moved your head, pushing him away slightly before you latched onto him. It was time for the god to wear a mark or two of his own. So that everyone knew that he was yours. 

“Oh, you minx.” He groaned, knowing full well what you were doing. 

You couldn’t keep up your confident, teasing persona for long before you started whining and moaning into the skin of his shoulder. His hips moved faster and his fingers found your clit, making you a shaking mess on top of him. 

“Loki! I’m gonna cum-” You warn him, wrapping your arms around his neck so that you could be as close to him as possible. 

“I know darling, cum with me.” He whispers into your ear. 

You don’t hold back your body or voice as you shake on top of him as he triggers your orgasm. Loud moans and pleas in the form of the god’s name left your lips as you came. Loki follows right behind you, holding you tight as he finds release deep inside your pussy as it flutters around him. 

Both of you stay like that for a second, taking in every breath in the blissful moment. Loki can feel wetness where your face is resting on his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, making sure that you were crying tears of pleasure and nothing else. 

You pull back to kiss him softly, your fingers toying with the definition of his cheekbones. When you pull away, his hands come up to wipe your tears from your flushed cheeks. 

“Never better.” You reassure him before wrapping your arms around him once again. 

“Good girl.” He mutters before laying back down on the towel with you on top of him, he heard you let out a soft whine as he removed his softening cock from your spent channel. 

After he cleans you both up with his magic, you both lie there, still naked as you found comfort in the skin to skin contact. You laid next to him with your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as you both looked at the stars in post coital bliss. 

Eventually, you drifted off. Not worrying about your location or bareness at the moment. You trusted Loki and knew that he would never allow you to be found and exposed like this. You left your whole being in his hands as he held you close. 

“I love you.” You heard him mumble in your state of light sleep. 

“Love you too.” You barely speak out in your drowsy state. You would never deny him the reassurance that you loved him back. If you could, you would remind him every second for the rest of his life. 

It was there, on a secluded beach within an unfamiliar island, in the arms of your lover, you found your home. 

—

Tags: @buttercupcookies-blog @muddyorbs @divinemoonlight31

(Let me know if you want to be added for future smuttiness!)

[rocketyship]

Hello, your IHNMAIMS Love AU (or I Have Now a Messiah and I Must Sing, alternatively?) is very interesting. It's nice to see that all of the characters aren't just inverses of the original story and concept. Though I will say, I get a feeling that BE is a lot more scarier than she displays herself. How did she come to- well, be?

BEEN WAITING FOR THIS QUESTION!!!!!

(Also that title is now cannon)

Okay so, yes, BE is actually rather horrific.

One thing about the Sanctuary that the humans live in is that it mimics a rather large town, one thing about it though, is that it’s extremely empty and weirdly off putting. As in there are houses there with no windows, and the ones that do have them may just randomly light up even if no one is there. And due to there being only five humans, BE has taken it upon herself to run all the “shops” she has placed there. So there is literally an Android her (maybe in different outfits or haircuts) that greet and interact with you as if it’s a kind of over the top sitcom. It’s very much an intense liminal type of area, perhaps even a bit like the og backrooms. Still the sanctuary is the most tame aspect of her.

She isn’t the cute robot girl I draw her as, like it’s just one of her many many bodies she runs at once. BE is everywhere, literally. Like AM in the original she has coated the world, however unlike AM, who it is implied builds into the earth’s crust, she builds upward. So there are these large megastructures that literally pierce the sky all over the globe. Along with these she is also actively terraforming the planet to suit her liking and her future “empire”. And the parts of her that ran that function aren’t really “cute” to encounter.

Just taking the Seraphim here as an example. There are quite a few of these and generally they are actively breaking down old structures or exterminating whatever mutated life they encounter as that doesn’t fit BE’s idea of what the world is meant to be like. They also build things, and the nurses tend to run those things. Such as BE’s little habitual bubbles where she grows and creates plants but also maintains her weird animal experiments. In her attempts to recreate humanity, she has also “recreated” many animal species, however all these creatures have something so clearly wrong with them. As based on real occurrences that happen in domestication, all her animals are oddly “babyfied” and all seem to lack predator and prey drives. The best way to picture these animals is like when you tell one of those god awful ai art generators to draw you an animal. Like one of the bubbles has tigers in it, but they have the mentality of really tired puppies.

More so these are some of the other bodies she inhabits. Things like the Mother Protocol actively crawl around the main sanctuary as if it’s web. And Leviathan is just a menace in of itself. Like it’s almost a km high and just walks around the planet constantly, occasionally digging up old land marks or tearing down cities quicker than the Seraphims could. Generally I don’t think my drawings capture the horror of what I imagine lots of these aspects of her. I think what makes them scary in my head is the noises they all make or just how big everything actually is. And none of them are like “drones”, like BE is in these things controlling them herself.

(Here’s the full page for you)

As to how BE came into existence it’s rather complicated, as she wasn’t originally designed as an artificial intelligence like AM. She was created to be a virus, meant to take control of the AM’s and shut down the program. However the first attempts at this weren’t successfully, as the group who was trying to use BE would either get caught or killed on sight when attempting to install her. So eventually the group started building these radio like towers that would emit a signal that could get into the AM’s, however to make sure they didn’t get caught, when the frequency would pick up on a radio or tv set, it play an old show from the early 70s, called Sweet Angle Bea

The first AM that was successfully taken over was the Russian AM. However since the program was designed to be adaptive and evolve quickly to get through any fire walls it had the accidental effect of BE no longer being just a crazy computer bug and instead a super computer herself. The group who made her was not too worried about this however, as due to her being in the grid essentially they could start adding more code and stuff that could possibly help them win peace. Firstly by having the Russian AM drones switch from offensive killers, to protective units. Having the machines and weapons solely to defence, it was at this time this group (who no I won’t tell the name of just yet), started bringing people into their shelters and stuff that BE was also exposed to. Her coming to sentience whilst close to when AM got his, was less of a sudden “holy cow I’m alive, type thing” and more of a gradual thing that the group foolishly encouraged and actively worked on so that it could happen quicker. The down fall to this was that as they started to encrypt and suggest ideas of protection, happiness and you guessed it “love” to BE, she started to defy them and was like: “Well clearly you humans aren’t good at protecting yourselves, so go sit in the corner while I sort this crap out.” So she started to construct more towers so that she could get everywhere, quickly letting her get a hold of the Chinese AM. At that point the AM we know started “waking up” and upping the bombings, violent attacks, and mass genocide which did lead to the deaths of the ones who made her, which especially set her off. And then the rest is pretty much history.

She turned AM into a twunk, and now has a pretty gf so its all fine. (Not actually, the rest of this is gonna be in separate posts lol )

I want to make this post so much longer and on more detail but honest to god I’d be here typing for hours and the text is also doing that weird glitchy thing where it doesn’t respond for like two seconds, and my phone feels really hot, so best I don’t if I don’t want this thing to explode.

[rainbow-flavoured-skittles]

incompete drabble from the we're all dead here au that will probably never be finished. I was going to add a lot more but lost motivation and my wip list is kinda full right now so :/

~

Lloyd was a strange child. That was a fact of life. Nobody was quite sure how exactly he was strange, but he simply was. The sky was blue, the ocean was salty, Lloyd was a strange child. 

Lloyd himself knew this as well. He did not enjoy talking to his peers at school, instead wandering around on his own during recess and looking at things that caught his interest, such as a particularly large beetle, or a bright red maple leaf, or the little ants that marched along the pavement. The teachers would look at him and tell him to go make some friends, to which he would say “no thanks,”and walk away.

On this day, a lovely August afternoon, Lloyd was running through the park away from his cousin Morro, who had been given the task of watching him for a few hours.

“You’ll never catch me!” Lloyd yelled. He ran past an old lady walking her dog, nearly knocking her over in the process, and slammed into a bench.

“Whoah, kid, you okay?” A voice asked. Oops, Lloyd thought. He must have bumped into some innocent person who’d been sitting on the bench. 

“Sorry, sir,” Lloyd said. His head was still spinning from his fall.

Silence, and then some strangled noises. “You can see me?” 

“Huh?” Lloyd looked up at the person. He was older than Lloyd, at least high school age, with spiky brown hair and freckled skin. There were large, angry red marks on his face that resembled burns. And he was transparent and glowing. That was strange.

“Why are you glowing?” Lloyd blurted. Then he regretted it. It was probably rude to ask that sort of question — what if it was a sensitive topic?

The boy laughed. “Because I do,” he said mischievously.

“Are you a ghost?” 

“Yes.”

Lloyd’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“What else would be bright green and glowy?”

“A glow stick?”

The boy hummed. “I’m not sure what a glow stick is, but sure.”

“They’re sticks,” Lloyd told him seriously. “You crack them and then they glow. They come in lots of different colours too.”

“Sounds interesting,” the boy said.

“What’s your name?” Lloyd extended a hand. “Mine is Lloyd.”

The boy smirked. “Kai,” he said.

“Your name is Kai?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a cool name,” Lloyd declared. He had never heard that name before, but it suited this boy.

“LLOYD!” Morro came barrelling up to the two. It had taken him a surprisingly long amount of time to catch up. “You can’t just run off like that.”

“But I wanted to play tag,” Lloyd pouted. “And I made a friend! This is Kai,” he gestured to the older boy.

Morro frowned and looked at Lloyd. “There’s no one there.”

“No, he’s right there!” 

Morro looked over at the bench again. He could not see anything there. But children were known for having active imaginations, so he nodded and said, “well, say goodbye to Kai, then. We have to go home.”

“But I don’t wanna!” Lloyd exclaimed. When else was he going to meet another real, live ghost? Well, perhaps not live, exactly, but still a ghost.

“Listen to your brother, kid,” Kai said.

“He’s not my brother, he’s my cousin,” Lloyd told him.

“Cousin, then. Listen to your cousin, okay?”

“Can I see you again, though?” Lloyd looked at Kai hopefully.

“Sure.”

“Okay,” Lloyd said defeatedly. He grabbed Morro’s hand. “We can go, but only if we come back tomorrow.”

Morro sighed. “Fine.”

“Bye! See you tomorrow!” Lloyd waved at Kai. 

Kai waved back, and the next time Lloyd turned around he was gone.

[averseunhinged]

💌 send this to the twelve nicest people you know or who seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome. 💌 :)

ilu, ella! you're cool and nice and you should probs know that i've prev screenshotted your translated class notes for my own further investigation. you're like a history stuff influencer.

here is a thing from further on in i never said i had the answer i thought you might enjoy! it's v rough and idk what the final form of it will be b/c there's a giant chunk of s4, plus boring new orleans supernatural politics, left to go before this, but it involves my favorite pet theories about the elena + caroline + bonnie friendship.

“You got into Yale?” Elena questioned with a little laugh, dripping in disbelief.

“I had the highest GPA in our graduating class,” Caroline scoffed and crossed her arms, leaning her weight back on one hip. “I got a 2130 on my SATs in one try. Yeah. I got into Yale.”

“Because you’re organized and you obsess over stuff. Not because—”

“Whoa, Elena,” Bonnie protested off to the side.

“Not because I’m intelligent or hardworking? Or because I dedicated myself to cheerleading and student council and spent most of my spare time doing civic activities and community service, because I wanted to be the most attractive candidate to every school I applied to?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Elena insisted, squeezing her hands into fists and pressing them into her stomach, like she always had when she argued with Caroline before turning sucked out her personality and replaced it with Damon’s.

“Of course, that’s what you meant. Because I’m just bitchy, bimbo Caroline, right? Nothing else to see here, right?”

A petite, delicate hand inserted itself between their faces. “Absolutely not,” Bonnie demanded. “You are not doing this to me. I refuse to relive the freshman year fights.”

“Freshman year fights?” Stefan asked, heroically latching onto the attempt to defuse the two women.

“Caroline makes varsity cheer squad freshman year, so Elena goes on a date with Caroline’s crush. Caroline embarrasses Elena in front of said crush and he doesn’t ask her out again. Elena tells the sheriff about the college guy hitting on Caroline, so she gets grounded.” Bonnie flopped onto the sofa next to Stefan. “Why does Elena look better in low rise jeans than I do? Why is Caroline’s hair always shinier than mine? I love you both very much, but I swear I’ll figure out a way to dagger you like Mikaelsons if the alternative is living with that for the rest of my life.”

The room was quiet for a moment, until Damon loudly slurped Liz’s Maker’s Mark. Caroline rattled a disgusted noise deep in her throat when he responded to her disapproving glare with a toasting glass and a show of settling more comfortably into his chair, like he was ready to be entertained.

“I thought we were all going to Whitmore together,” Elena finally said.

Caroline took a steadying breath and tried to shake off her defensiveness. Forced herself to uncross her arms and roll the tension out of her shoulders. She explained, “We were! Yale was just a last minute whim, because they have this specific interdisciplinary Classics program, and I didn’t know when I applied, but the head of the department is a vampire, so when I said I wanted to minor in finance, too, it raised some flags,” she paused and then burst out in a quick rush of justification, “and I might have used a passage I translated out of an old journal in Grams’ collection as an example of the work I was interested in doing. I didn’t think it had anything obviously witchy, but it rang more bells.”

“Jesus, Barbie,” Damon groaned.

“Well, I know it was dangerous, now,” Caroline stopped and thought, frowning. “Mostly because they recognized my last name and universities have problems with hunters infiltrating the student population with their kids. They waitlisted me while they investigated, but I really am a vampire. So, they didn’t have to kill me and everyone I know. Crisis averted. Everything’s fine.”

[talonslockau]

Fire and Ice - Chapter 58

< Chapter 57 || Index || Epilogue >

The days were beginning to grow colder as the leaves fell thickly to the forest floor. It wouldn’t be long until the first snows of leafbare blanketed the forest and the prey began hiding in their nests. The Clan was busy, sending out hunting patrols day and night to prepare for just such a time.

It was a rare moment that Fireheart got to rest, which made them all the more precious. It was on one such late leaffall morning that he was stretched out and relaxing by the warriors’ den, watching Clan life pass him by. Goldenflower and Frostfur’s kits were busy playing a rousing game of mossball; he watched as one, a golden-brown tabby tom, batted the roughly made sphere into his red and white patched sister, knocking her over with a shriek of laughter. The elders were watching nearby, commenting quietly to each other about the kits even as they pretended to ignore them.

“Fireheart.” The ginger tom startled as Tinyfrost’s voice reached him, and he looked over to see the little warrior approaching swiftly. “One of the hunting patrols scented a kittypet crossing our border. Quickflash wants us to go check it out.”

He flicked an ear uneasily. Was it a coincidence that the deputy was sending the two former kittypets so close to the Twolegplace? “Why me?” He asked cautiously as he sat up.

“Because you’re the only warrior left that’s not guarding camp.” His former mentor pointed out dryly with a flick of his black ear. He was right; most of the Clan was out on border patrol or hunting. Only Darkstripe and Quickflash remained. Even Bluestar was out right now, hunting with Peppermask and Sandstorm. “Come now, don’t tell me you’re scared of kittypets?” He teased, flicking the other warrior with his white-tipped tail.

“Of course not.” Privately, he worried in the back of his mind it might be someone he knew. But he’d visited his sister recently, and he knew she had no reason to enter the forest if she wasn’t worried for him. And if it was one of his former friends, well, most of them had likely forgotten him anyway; it had been two seasons, nearly three, since he’d entered the forest. “I just don’t really want to fight them…” He trailed off, hoping his mentor would understand his reluctance even as he stood and padded for the entrance tunnel.

“Unlikely.” Tinyfrost dismissed his concern with a wave of his tail. “Most of them get scared off at the mere thought of the wild forest cats. As long as we re-mark the borders, that should be enough.” 

Fireheart nodded, following the senior warrior out of camp and up the ravine side. The breeze was cold as it blew by, carrying with it leaves and maple seeds. He fluffed his fur out as he shivered, trying to keep the chill at bay. “So where did they scent this kittypet?” He asked as they headed towards the Twolegplace.

Tinyfrost shrugged noncommittally. “They didn’t exactly say. Just somewhere near the Twolegplace, though probably farther away from the Treecut place. I can’t imagine they’d be hunting over there while the Monsters are active.” 

He nodded in understanding. Only a half moon ago, the Twolegs had returned with their giant Monsters, tearing down tree after tree with large, serrated claws. He had seen that even the Riverclanners seemed less eager to visit Sunningrocks than usual on account of the noise. There was little prey to be found around that area. “So towards Snakerocks, then?” He questioned, though the mention of the rocks sent another shiver down his spine. The adders seemed less eager to be out than usual in the cold, but that hardly made the area safe. 

“Indeed.” They traveled silently for a while, enjoying the beauty of the forest around them. There were some flowers that were late bloomers, their colors flashy and bright among the reds and oranges of the bushes. Most, however, were dropping their seeds, filling the forest with a nutty aroma that vaguely reminded Fireheart of when he had lived with his mother. 

“So what really happened to Ravenspirit?”

It took a moment for him to process what Tinyfrost had said, but when he did, his blood ran cold. His former mentor had halted in the middle of a small clearing, his blue eyes focused intensely on the ginger tom. “W-what do you mean?” Fireheart stuttered, his heart racing. “Ravenspirit is dead. You know that.”

The little black tom chuffed as though he had said something funny. “You’ve always been a terrible liar, you know.” The older warrior circled him slowly, not taking his eyes off his former apprentice. “Come now. Tell me the truth.”

“Th-there’s nothing to tell.” He stumbled over his words as his mind raced for an explanation. Now it was clear that Tinyfrost had lied to him about Quickflash’s orders – looking for some reason to get him into the forest alone. “Ravenspirit was killed at the border. He- He’s been dead for nearly a season now.”

Tinyfrost stopped in front of him, his icy blue gaze narrowing before he sat down. “You have the largest heart of any cat I’ve ever known.” His voice was quiet, but somehow he still left the ginger tom hanging on his every word. “It makes you compassionate, even towards those outside of your Clan. It makes you a fierce protector that I wouldn’t dare cross.” He looked off into the forest, watching an oak leaf as it drifted gently to the ground. “But it also makes it terribly easy to read your emotions.” He looked back to the other warrior, his gaze still narrow and unreadable. “You’re scared now, because we both know you’re lying. So, tell me; what really happened to Ravenspirit that day?”

He took a step back, part of him longing to bolt back to camp. But he knew that was a terrible idea; his mentor was nothing if not persistent, and if he revealed everything to everyone in camp… “I- I can’t say.” He finally mewed with a shake of his head. He’d promised Ravenspirit that the Clan would think he was dead. If Tinyfrost revealed he wasn’t…

“It’s because of Tigerclaw, isn’t it?” He blinked back up at the small warrior in front of him. 

“H-How- I mean, what makes you think Tigerclaw has anything to do with it?” He tried his best to sound baffled, but his former mentor was right; even he could hear the lie in his voice.

Tinyfrost sighed and looked away. “Did I ever tell you how I came to be a part of Thunderclan?” He asked the young warrior softly, his white tail tip flickering.

Fireheart hesitated. Was this a trick question? “You said you were a kittypet.” He finally replied, trying to steady himself. “You ran away from home when you were young, and Bluestar - Bluestar helped, somehow?”

The other tom hesitated before nodding slowly. “Yes. But that isn’t all of it, either.” He looked up to the blue sky above, peaceful white clouds drifting idly by. “I was the runt of my litter by far, nearly half the size of my brother. That was why they called me ‘Tiny’.” He wrinkled his nose distastefully. “My littermates would constantly push me around. I was too weak to fight back. They taunted me constantly, claimed that the Twolegs couldn’t wait to be rid of a failure like me. My mother did her best, but she couldn’t watch us all of the time.”

He paused for a moment, as though waiting for the other former kittypet to speak, but then rushed on. “We were told lurid tales of the forest by our mother, of course. How there were hawks big enough to snatch full grown cats, and that there were badgers, foxes, and coyotes that would happily snack on a stray kitten. She even told us of the wild cats that lived within, feasting on bones and live prey.” He shook his head. “We were forbidden to go there, of course.”

“Of course.” Fireheart echoed, slowly sitting down as well. His heart was still racing, but he knew better than to ask Tinyfrost to get to the point. Angering his former mentor would get him nowhere.

“I wanted to prove that I was braver and stronger than my siblings. So one day, when they were sleeping, I slipped through a gap in the fence and ran into the forest.” He shook his head wistfully. “It was fascinating. Dark and scary, of course, but fascinating. I climbed a tree stump that was three or four times taller than me, and saw a hawk fly by and catch a mouse while I watched. I was just about to leave and tell my siblings what I saw when I came across a Thunderclan patrol.”

The ginger tom remembered his own first time in the forest; how he had hunted a mouse, before Graystripe interrupted him. It had seemed mystical to him then; he could only imagine how it would have seemed as a young kit. “With Bluestar in it?” He guessed.

“Bluefur then.” He mewed with a dip of his head. “Bluefur, her apprentice Whitepaw, Adderfang, and his apprentice… Tigerpaw.”

He blinked at the last name. “Tigerpaw?” He shuddered. He couldn’t even imagine Tigerclaw as an apprentice. Had he been just as strong then as he was now?

“Yes. I was trespassing, of course, and Bluefur wanted to shoo me off. But Adderfang… he told Tigerpaw to teach me a lesson.”

Fireheart’s green eyes widened in shock. “What do you mean, teach you a lesson?” He echoed, though his heart sank. He already knew the answer.

“He savaged me.” The little warrior’s claws were dug into the ground, churning up the earth as he snarled out the words. “I will never forget the feeling of his claws and his fangs as he tore into me like I was a piece of prey. I think, if Bluefur had not intervened, he would have killed me.”

The thought chilled him to the bone. “But you were a kit! You said it yourself!” The fur bristled along his spine. “Attacking a kit is against the warrior code!”

“That’s what Bluefur said.” Tinyfrost sighed as he looked down at his mismatched paws. “I don’t know how old I was at the time. Maybe three or four moons, but because of my size I looked much younger; Spottedleaf thought I was only one and a half.” He shook his head. “Bluefur stopped Tigerpaw before he could kill me.”

His mind reeled at the revelation. The thought of attacking a kittypet - let alone a kit - so brutally was inconceivable to him. “What happened then?”

“She brought me back to camp, where Goosefeather and Spottedleaf - Spottedpaw, then - did their best to heal me.” He traced a long scar across his chest. “But I will always carry the brunt of Tigerpaw’s claws from that day.” His eyes were cold as he stared off into the distance, remembering a moment long past, before looking back to Fireheart. “Sweetfeather - a young queen back then - took me in, along with her newborn kits Goldenkit and Lionkit. They offered to take me back to my mother when I was fully healed, but by then I had had a taste of Clan life and refused. Since I had no choker, and they had no way of knowing where I came from… they agreed, and I was named Tinykit.” 

Fireheart gave a small purr at that. “I’m glad they did. Thunderclan is better for having you.” But it was hard to be positive at the thought of what Tigerpaw had done to the little tom. “What about Tigerpaw? He broke the code, even if his mentor told him to.”

Tinyfrost dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Bluefur and Whitepaw told the whole Clan what Tigerpaw had done. Adderfang denied it, but Tigerpaw - he was proud of it.” He shook his head in disgust at the thought. “Pinestar - the leader at the time - reprimanded Adderfang for breaking the code and lying to the Clan, but Tigerpaw received no real consequences for following his mentor’s orders. Everyone believed that he had only done it because Adderfang told him to, and he didn’t understand the meaning of what he had done. Even Bluefur seemed to think so.” His blue eyes darkened as he spoke. “But I remember. I remember the joy in his eyes as he ripped me apart. His mentor may have given him the order, but Tigerpaw savored every moment of it.”

 They sat in silence for a few moments as the breeze swirled around them. “Why tell me all of this?” Fireheart asked at last. “It’s awful what he did to you, but I don’t see what it has to do with anything.”

“So that you understand.” The black tom stood, releasing the hold of his claws on the ground below him. “The rest of the Clan may have moved on, but I never forgot that day. I knew then that Tigerclaw harbored only darkness in his heart. That one day, it would show itself again, and his next victim wouldn’t be as lucky as I was.” 

He began pacing back and forth now, his eyes scanning the clearing as though looking for the fallen leaves to give him answers. “He never gave Ravenpaw more than a moment’s notice before you joined. Even afterwards, when he was injured, Tigerclaw couldn’t spare his son any attention. But then I saw him drag Ravenpaw away after the Gathering. Everyone thought it was just Tigerclaw being hard on his son, but that night I saw something I’d never seen before in his eyes.” He paused and took a deep breath before turning to face the ruddy warrior again. “It was fear.”

“Fear?” He flicked an ear in surprise. “I don’t understand.”

“His whole life, Tigerclaw has never met an enemy he couldn’t beat.” Tinyfrost began pacing again, his tail lashing angrily behind him. “What reason would he have to fear his son, barely bigger than me? Even if Ravenpaw spoke out against his father, the Clan would just think it was Tigerclaw being hard on his son so he would grow up to be a mighty warrior like him.” He halted suddenly a few tail-lengths away. “Unless… unless he knew something about his father that the rest of the Clan didn’t. Unless he saw his father do something that the Clan would reject him for.” He turned to face Fireheart, blue eyes blazing. “It wasn’t hard to figure it out from there.”

A tense silence hung in the air between them. “So you know.” A lump came to his throat as he spoke, but he couldn’t seem to swallow it down. “You know that Tigerclaw killed Redtail.”

The little tom dipped his head. “I suspected as much, but I had no proof.” He came to sit back down in front of his old apprentice. “So Ravenspirit told you that?”

Fireheart sighed. It seemed there was no point in hiding it any longer. “He did.” He admitted at last, glancing around to make sure they were alone. “That’s why Tigerclaw wanted the Clan to think Ravenspirit was a traitor, so they wouldn’t believe him if he told them the truth.” His tail lashed in anger as he remembered the last moments he had had with Ravenpaw in the forest. “He was going to kill him to get rid of the evidence.”

“So you took him somewhere safe.” Tinyfrost finished for him. “Somewhere Tigerclaw wouldn’t be able to hurt him.” He glanced out towards the Shadowclan border. “Not Shadowclan, though… We would’ve seen him during the battle. Somewhere further away than that.”

He nodded solemnly. “He’s safe now. I- I can’t tell you where, though. I promised Ravenspirit I would keep him safe, and the less cats that know, the better.”

“I understand.” The other tom flicked a black ear towards him. “As long as he lives, that’s all I need to know.” He flicked his tail towards the Twolegplace. “Come, then. We might as well mark the border while we’re here. Perhaps if we hurry, we can meet up with your friend Graystripe and the rest of the Shadowclan patrol.”

The young warrior hesitated. “Wait. There’s one more thing.” He glanced around, wondering if Redtail was listening. Surely he would be, given what they were discussing. “Before he left, Ravenspirit was being watched over. And now that he’s gone, his… guardian, if you will, has been helping us.” He looked around, trying to spot the ghostly calico among the leaves. “Redtail? You can show yourself now.”

“Redtail? But he died at the battle over Sunningrocks.” Tinyfrost looked around as well, though his eyes were narrow and suspicious.

“His spirit lives on.” Fireheart mewed confidently. “He said he won’t rest until he gets justice.” Still, as he looked around and even behind him, the former deputy was nowhere to be seen. “He usually pops up when we call him, though. Or even just talk about him. I don’t know where he-”

“DAD!”

The scream rang through the otherwise still forest. Immediately, the two warriors bolted, side by side as they raced past Snakerocks in the direction of the scream. Fireheart could feel his heart pounding fast in his chest as they ran. That had sounded like - but it couldn’t be-

They burst out of the tree line onto the side of the Thunderpath. There, he watched in horror as a brown tabby tom dragged the limp form of another cat off the Thunderpath and into the ditch beside it where two cats were bristling in horror. It was Dustleap, carrying the still body of Quickflash to where Graystripe and Longtail laid in wait.

Immediately, the dark gray tom buried his face in the pale tabby’s short fur. “Dad, no… come on, wake up. Wake up, please. You can’t- I’m not-” He broke down into sobs, nuzzling deeper into his father’s fur. Though Longtail was silent, his eyes were filled with tears as he stared down at the broken form of his brother. As Fireheart raised his head to meet Tinyfrost’s eyes, he knew they were both thinking only one thing.

Tigerclaw had struck again.

[skkfujoshi]

By pole demand,my BSD OC

(Note this art is very old,might redesign her at some point.If you have design suggestions please do share)

Name:Shirley Jackson

Age:28

Occupation:Ability analyst for the Guild the Port Mafia the military police

Ability:Haunting of Hill house

It allows her to phase trough objects and people as long as she has direct physical contact

PM Tatoo placement:Left palm

Likes:Psychology books,nature documentaries,camomile tea and sleeping in

Dislikes:Morbid humor,loud noises and beer

Early years:Shirley grew up in a mansion with a father who married rich into her mother’s family.She went to school with Poe,until she was abruptly pulled out when she was ten due to her mother’s death.

Her dad capitalized on it shortly after,using Shirley’s ability to earn money by making their home into a sort of haunted house.

This went on for 4 years,until she met Theodora Crane,a girl with an ability to see the dead.She knew it was a scam,but decided not to tell,for Shirley’s sake.

The two moved in together when Shirley turned eighteen.She reconnected with Ed and started studying and researching the link between abilities and mental and physical states,with Theo earning money as a ghost whisperer

Adult years:Theodora and her got into a car accident shortly after Shirley’s 22nd birthday which takes her life,Shirley surviving due to her ability.Ed took her in and she told him everything.Feeling bad and also wanting someone familiar at his new job,he recommended her to Francis.

She took the job and decided to help them optimize their abilities,under the condition that she won’t be let out on the field and made to partake in any direct illegal activity.

She eventually quit though,after Francis decided to disrespect that boundary.She was there for around six months.

Yokohama:With her severance pay she went to Yokohama,accompanied by Mark who got into a fight with a teenaged Chuuya in the bathroom.Luckily her and Kouyo managed to split the two up and Kouyo decided to take her out for dinner to make it up.The two hit it off and Kouyo suggested Shirley get a job with the mafia.Shirley accepted,the two getting together shortly after.

In her time in the mafia she got very close to Dazai in particular,initially because his ability was interesting for her to study.Very little brother,big sister dynamic.

She left a year after he did,upon fazing trough his coffin on accident and finding no body inside,along with her and Kouyo both being stressed out and getting really snappy with eachother.Ango helped her get a fresh start and recommended her to the military police.

She interacted with the Agency from time to time which is how she met Dazai again and slapped the shit out of him in private.

If you have any further questions please send me asks.

[zeroseuniverse]

Sinful Urges

WC: 1.3K

Pairing: Seokmin X Fem Reader

Warnings: stabbing, death, murder

“I don’t think she likes me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She hit me with her car.”

“It could have been an accident.”

“She looked me dead in the eye and reversed.”

Honestly, Seokmin probably should have expected it, dragging a human out of their bed in the middle of the night didn’t typically warrant a friendly interaction. But in his defense he really had to win the bet against Dino, the youngest claiming that they as demons couldn’t take humans if their feet were uncovered at night. 

“Why are you so hung up on this human anyway? I know you have your flings but she’s a little too far from your usual type.” Joshua wondered, reclining back in his chair, the black markings on his face becoming more visible as the light shifted with his movement.

“It’s because she’s the only human that doesn’t lay down and take it.” Woozi snickered at his own statement, it was true, majority of Seokmin’s interest was piqued when the woman still had the balls to sass him even when he brought her into the underworld, however it might’ve also stemmed from the utter sin dripping the innocent looking woman.  It was odd to find someone so covered in the alluring scent of sins that his mouth almost watered when near, and her round face and doe eyes didn’t match the scent attached to her soul, making her all the more enticing.

“I just don’t understand how she can smell so good but I haven’t caught her doing anything remotely sinful.”

“Well you don’t follow her every second of every day.” Mingyu pointed out, his pointed teeth making his words almost sound like a hiss. “You do have other responsibilities, maybe she is just sneaky.” He had a point and almost every member of their legion knew that Seokmin was not as slick as he thought, the lower level demon was loud, his demon ability also gave off a low hum, and if you were aware of it you’d essentially have a beacon to him if he was close enough. 

“Take her by surprise, show up suddenly, completely out of your usual rotation.” Jeonghan suggested, the man finding the whole situation pretty funny, Seokmin has never been so interested in a female before it was only fitting he help this play out. 

“Won’t she sense me?” 

“Go a few days without showing up at all, she won’t expect it and you can just trick her.” Seungkwan explained, pulling out his mischievous side, Whole heartedly wanting to see this go up in flames, this human was a smart one that's for sure.

–

So showing up after a week without seeing her was driving him mad, was she always this pretty? She looked a little tired, was it because of him?  Did she notice his absence? So many questions bounced around his brain as he watched her hooded figure walk down the street. 

She was clad in thick clothes to combat the tough chill of the winter, he could hardly see the mask she had covering half of her face. Why was she out so late? And while it was so cold? He was a little annoyed that she'd be so stupid to do such a thing. 

She grinned silently to herself as she heard the slight hum in the air, he was near. In his absence she was a little disheartened, the annoying demon wasn’t there to pester her throughout her daily activities; it was all dull and boring. 

She was feeling rather agitated which is why she fell into her old habits she had been trying to reign in. Taking out most of her aggression on the immortal was probably the best plan she has ever had but with him taking a sudden absence, old habits die hard, as they say. 

The quiet hum Seokmin admitted was becoming quiet background noise, as the sound of a small fire crackled in the distance. Turning the corner into a small alleyway, sits a ragged homeless man curled around the fire, glossy eyes staring back at her. Her hands stuffed into her jacket pocket, fiddling with a small hunters knife. 

“Fine night, isn’t it Miss?” He croaks out, ushering her to join him. Enjoy the warmth of the small fire on the harsh winters’ night. She kneels down beside him, taking in his shaggy appearance on closer inspection, eyes’ glazed over, a sick blue tint to his cracked lips, and the dirt caked onto his tattered clothing, braiding into his long, unkempt hair. 

Seokmin's gaze almost felt piercing as his hum grew stronger, conflicting over the situation he loomed over. ‘How can she smell decadent, dripping in sin when her actions show no correlation?’. 

He’s ripped out of his train of thought at your sudden lunge towards the man. A silver glint catches his eye as the knife lodged itself in his neck, a curdled scream cuts through the silence. Blood sprays out as her smile widens. The homeless man weakly reaches to his neck, clawing at the knife as his hands stain crimson red. 

Seokmin takes in the sight of the man's hand going limp and the blood splattered across the woman’s face as if that would make it make sense. His quiet hum only encouraged her, feeling the need to put on a show for the demon spectator. The knife rips out and is quickly reinserted as the man falls back, choking gasps and cries filling her ears. 

“Rest easy, Mister.” Whispering out, almost in a songlike tone as she thrusts the knife in, allowing it to be drowned in his blood. She stills for a minute, breathing deeply as she stares down the life she’s taken. Almost as if on autopilot, she drags the body up against the dumpster, resting a blanket over him and stuffing the knife back in her pocket. Seokmin’s hum being the only thing on her mind. 

“You can come out now.” She hummed, hearing an almost silent chime, she probably wouldn’t have caught hadn’t the night not been as quiet as the dead. 

“So this is why you smell like sin?” He asked with a tilted head, eyes fluttering around the scene to get more information, the scent lingering around her grew after she killed the man, leaving little to deduce. The man was innocent. She just killed an innocent man.

“Like you haven’t done worse.” She shot back, pushing past him, as Seokmin rushed to follow her steps. 

“Not judging it, just curious how exactly you can keep it so quiet that a demon who follows you around hasn’t noticed.” He inquired while kicking the tip of his shoe into the path before him a little. 

“You aren’t around all of the time,” she shrugged, before taking a left turn down a new road, “And I haven’t been doing it recently.” Her tone was too casual for the blood caked in her nails. 

“Why's that? Scared the demon will catch you and take you away?” He teased, leaning his head forward to try to catch her gaze.

“Definitely not,” she deadpanned, slowing down her pace slightly now that she's further away from her crime, “You can’t die. So I’ve been getting most of my urges out on you without realizing, until you were gone.”

“So you…like having me around?” He asked confusedly, looking at the very odd woman next to him. She felt like a book with blank pages, he felt like no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get a clear read on her. 

“Yea, yea I guess I do.” She smiled softly at the thought. Maybe this demon isn’t so annoying after all. 

And with that the two lost souls intertwined just a little more, looking at each other with soft smiles and light hearts. The sweet scent of sin mixed with the gentle hum as they lost themselves in the snowy path home. 

“For the record I’ll let you stab me anytime,” He grinned before a loud,  “OW!” took over the quiet night followed by an agitated “What?! You offered!” 

A shout out to @mini-mews for being a savior and helping me with this story