#of course a guy thought his slap job not winning is being unfair and that the judges were paid off

[dyna-myght]

Girlfriend sent me some of the cosplay contest drama from NYCC and I’m still like laughing that people really thought that one guy was gonna win or even place when like it doesn’t even take that long to look at it and be like. That’s just foam glued together 😭😭😭.

[moonlitceleste]

marinette dupain-cheng’s guide to picking up cute guys

A/N: Chez Vous is real in the DC universe; it’s described as a restaurant but I decided to use it as the name of the café because I didn’t want to come up with one myself. It translates to “at your house,” which basically implies “make yourself at home.”

thanks to @ramos123 for being my beta reader! <3

ao3

“Bet.”

Marinette slapped a crisp 20-dollar bill onto the wooden table with enough force to slosh around the brown liquid in the cup sitting before Alya’s smirking face.

Chez Vous was the name of the café they had been sitting in for the past fifteen minutes. The place had a nice ambience, the quiet chatter of customers and aromatic smells combining to make what was an unusually cozy atmosphere considering the location.

Gotham wasn’t exactly known for being hospitable, but she supposed the fact that it was clearly fashioned after Parisian cafés contributed to the homey feel. It vaguely reminded her of her parents’ bakery as well, so it certainly lived up to its name.

Perhaps it was this sense of familiarity that had her and Alya reminiscing on how far they’d come. It hadn’t been that long since lycée or université—the two were only 22 and 23, respectively—but recalling the good times they’d shared was always fun to do.

Of course, their friendship had momentary blips (ahem, Lila), but the two had managed to sort out their problems eventually. Now that Alya had become more attuned to Marinette’s boundaries and there were no pressing superhero secrets to keep, they knew how to both ground and challenge each other in positive ways. Which was exactly what had caused Marinette to get herself into this situation.

While chattering about their lycée days, Alya poked fun at her once again for what had transpired on the day of the Animan akuma. How could she ever forget that while secretly masquerading as a superhero and locking her best friends in an empty gorilla habitat together, she had somehow helped them end up in a relationship? And now the two were engaged.

This topic somehow lead to Adrien and the stupid puns he spewed both in superhero and civilian form. Alya was insistent that Marinette was charmed by them at some point, to which she replied, No way! They were horrible. Even I could do better.

It was with twinkling eyes that her best friend asked “Bet?” and well, Marinette was never one to back down from a challenge. So after pulling out some spare cash from her purse and setting it down in front of Alya, she raised a brow.

A wicked smirk grew on her best friend’s face, and any lesser person would have faltered, but Marinette was prepared for anything that could possibly be thrown at her.

“Fine. If you’re so confident, I dare you to use a pick-up line on… him.”

As if on cue, the bell at the top of the glass-paneled wooden door jingled, and Marinette followed Alya’s pointed finger right on time to see a very attractive man walk through.

He had a confident stride, but not an arrogant one—his aura was one of someone who was assured and knew exactly what they were capable of.

Despite his seemingly laid-back disposition, she didn’t fail to notice how his eyes darted around the room cautiously, the same habit she had gotten used to doing after she had been given the Ladybug Miraculous. Then again, this was Gotham, so being on constant guard was only natural.

One thumb was hooked in the pocket of his jeans while the other moved up to ruffle his hair, and wow did he have nice hair.

It was perfectly coiffed, and if she didn’t have experience with hairstyling due to her career she would’ve thought it was as effortless as it looked. Most models would kill for the natural luster his locks seemed to have, and even from a distance she could tell that anyone who decided to run their fingers through his hair would be met with softness.

And she didn’t even want to get started on his face. From his glowing skin to his strong jaw and pretty eyes, she refused to believe someone so attractive could be real. It was unfair, really.

“...inette? Marinette? You good there, girl?”

A snap in front of her face broke Marinette out of her stupor, and she offered an instinctual yelp in response.

“What?”

Alya’s eyes twinkled knowingly, and Marinette shifted anxiously in her seat.

“You sure you weren’t checking him out?”

“Alya!”

Said girl let out a mischievous cackle at her hissed response.

“Now get over there!” she said, waving her hands around in a shooing motion.

Marinette glanced over to the line, where the man was no doubt giving the barista his order.

From what she could tell he was just about done, and she watched as he shuffled through his wallet to hand the barista a bill. But rather than proceed normally as most client-worker interactions would, his payment was met with wide eyes and flailing hands.

Marinette was much too far to discern what was being said, but from context clues she could deduct that he had just handed the barista quite a sizable amount. She had already guessed he was well-off from simply observing the quality of his clothes, but this was near confirmation.

It wasn’t as if status or wealth mattered much to her, but she did have a tendency to be wary of higher-class people due to past experiences with them. Being around them really wasn’t as pleasant as it seemed.

Her musing was interrupted when the man suddenly moved, relocating to the waiting line. There was her chance.

Marinette pushed herself out of her seat, steeling herself and lifting her chin high. This was no biggie. All she had to do was somehow convince this gorgeous man to give her his number by making a crappy pick-up line and a pun on the spot. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before, but this felt different, probably because it was a total stranger she was about to attempt it on.

She felt Alya’s gaze trailing after her with each step, and Marinette reminded herself that she absolutely had to succeed or she would never hear the end of it.

The closer she got, however, the more her confidence died. Apparently she had made a major miscalculation while gauging her probability of success, because she hadn’t accounted for the brain spasm she was currently having. Why, oh why did he have to be so cute?

Marinette had the sinking feeling that she was about to majorly embarrass herself, but she was determined to win. Screw embarrassment—she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. All the trouble she had gotten into with Alix and Kim as kids had prepared her for this very moment. Nothing mattered besides victory.

So she sauntered up confidently, stopping right in front of her target.

“Hey, you must be Batman’s sidekick.”

“What?”

The man’s head snapped towards her, and Marinette didn’t fail to notice the subtle defensive stance he took. Years of hero experience had made her more perceptive towards these things—it was part of the job, after all. She filed the information away in the back of her mind, making a mental note to dissect all that later. Her priority was winning the bet—and oh, right, she still had to finish that pick-up line.

“...because you’re Robin my heart.”

The quip was accompanied by an uncharacteristically roguish smile, à la Chat Noir. She’d give herself a solid 10/10 points on delivery.

Her target seemed to agree with the verdict, because after a split second of shocked silence, he burst into full-bodied laughter.

The instantaneous shift in demeanor nearly caught her off-guard, but she was too occupied by the bright smile on his face and his melodic chuckle to notice. It was light and carefree, and she couldn’t help but crack a small smile as a result.

The only problem was that the laughter didn’t end, though, and she felt her face heat up more as the seconds ticked by.

Oh, Kwami.

Marinette buried her face into her hands with a soft groan, wishing the ground could just open up and swallow her whole.

She knew it wasn’t the greatest pick-up line ever, but she didn’t think her attempt warranted that much amusement.

The laugher ceased abruptly, and she peeked through her fingers in time to see the man quickly sober up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you!”

A pause.

“Okay, not exactly. I just—wow, that was a great pick-up line.”

She slowly lowered her hands, though she kept her head down to peer at him through her lashes.

“Did it work?”

He chuckled and offered her a bright smile that made her blush like a high schooler with a massive crush.

“Yeah, you can tell your friend over there that you won your bet.”

If it was even possible, she turned redder.

“What? How…”

At the mention of Alya, Marinette sent a quick glance to their café table only to find that she was doing absolutely nothing to hide her rapt attention. She quickly caught on to the fact that they were looking her way and sent a very obvious thumbs-up and wink.

Oh, I am so going to kill her later!

But Marinette’s momentary vexation made way for embarrassment as the gravity of the situation hit her.

“I guess I wasn’t exactly subtle, huh?”

“Yeah,” the handsome stranger shrugged. “You probably could have been more discreet. But I liked it.”

“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve said that, but I have a hard time believing you. You can’t possibly tell me that you actually enjoy puns.”

“So I’m guessing I shouldn’t tell you that meeting you was a fortuitous aster?”

“Aster? As in the opposite of disaster?” she wrinkled her nose.

“You got it!”

Marinette rolled her eyes in exasperation, though the upwards tug at the corner of her lips betrayed her true feelings.

“Careful there, or you’ll be the one Robin my heart.”

She’d never admit to it, but she flushed a tiny bit before straightening up in realization. Hey, she was supposed to be the one doing the wooing here!

But before she could open her mouth to respond, her companion beat her to it.

“Since you’re stealing something so dear to me, I think it’s only fair that I get my thief’s name in exchange.”

He was clever, she had to admit.

“Marinette,” she proffered.

“Dick.”

She blinked in surprise at the seemingly random obscenity before it clicked.

“Oh, that’s your name!”

The words tumbled forward, and once she realized what she had said, Marinette tried to frantically backpedal. Her spilled apologies didn’t seem to be necessary, though, because that mesmerizing laugh came back.

“No, it’s fine, I get that a lot,” he breathed between chuckles.

She brightened immediately, glad she hadn’t offended him or embarrassed herself too much.

“Well, since I’m already taking something from you, may I steal your number as well?”

“Only if I can do the same.”

Her inquiry was met with a grin, and the two exchanged phones to type in their respective numbers. Marinette’s found its way back into her hand shortly after, and moments after she pocketed it the call of “medium espresso and beignets!” broke the quiet ambience.

“Well, that’s my order,” Dick said, words weighted by a silent apology. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a few things I need to take care of. Maybe we can meet up later this week?”

The end of his sentence lilted up in hope, and Marinette found her chest warming with affection.

“I’d like that.”

She bid him goodbye with a smile and a wave and quickly tacked on an “I’ll text you later!” in afterthought.

She’d forever deny squealing giddily as she unceremoniously dragged Alya out from her seat and through the café doors, but the sound didn’t escape Dick’s attention—or his enhanced hearing, courtesy of Bat-Tech.

As he watched her leave with Alya, a smile slowly spread across his face at the thought of seeing her again.

Yeah, he sighed to himself. She’s definitely Robin my heart.

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST *@astoriaandromeda @avengerthewarrior *@bluesimani @enternalempires @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @h1sss @heart-charming @iloontjeboontje @jayjayspixiepop @jalaluvsu @kitsunebell @maskedpainter @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh @no-username2544 @too0bsessedformyowngood @ultimatetornshipper

[catty-words]

on the school dance fallout or, a thorough examination of the boys’ apologies to julie

full disclosure, i used to take serious issue with 1.06 for what it did to julie’s righteous anger in light of the boys letting her down, and my gripes haven’t fully gone away. but i have spent some time thinking on the fallout since my first (several) viewing(s) of the show and i finally noticed some emotionally nuanced storytelling that i needed time to come to appreciate. so, if you’ll indulge me another gif-filled meta post...

everyone knows that a good apology demonstrates an understanding of how you wronged the person you’re apologizing to, otherwise the words i’m sorry end up being fairly empty. and luckily for the boys, julie does a good job of immediately and effectively communicating her hurt feelings:

the first part is directed at luke specifically as her main co-writer, while the rest is about how all three of them let her down. it couldn’t be more clear that the reason she’s so betrayed is that a) they’ve made her feel like julie and the phantoms is less important to them than sunset curve and b) they’ve failed to consider her point of view or empathize with how important the show was to her.

which is why singing sorry a bunch of times, though charming, leaves her unmoved. and it’s why booking another gig actually makes her angrier. a gig the boys have deemed important enough to show up for is not a present or an olive branch to her, it’s a slap in the face. and if the boys had actually been paying attention to what she’d said the night of the dance, they could have anticipated her reaction.

but they clearly haven’t listened, so they haven’t learned how to do better or make things right. which is why this is such an important beat in the scene in the studio:

hounding julie to rejoin the band, even with such nice sentiments as “you’re the best thing that’s happened to us since we became ghosts”, does nothing to address how undervalued julie feels getting stood up because, as she points out above, their ability to do what they love is very limited without her. that makes her a powerful and essential member of the band, but it doesn’t prove that they care about her, julie, the person. and you can see in the reaction shot how the truth of her words lands for all of them.

their remorseful silence gives julie the opportunity to reiterate one of the points she made the night before, and it’s important to note which part of her hurt feelings she chooses to revisit.

the fact that they made the choice to pay more attention to their old music in spite of the music they were creating together is the thing that hurt her feelings the most. and, of course, her open hostility and her imagined reasons for why the boys picked sunset curve over julie and the phantoms (i.e. selfishness) puts luke on the defensive and ends with everyone leaving the scene dissatisfied.

great! okay, so here’s the part that’s bugged in the past (and the present, just. a little less so.) — in their attempt to deescalate the situation, alex and reggie give julie, and the audience, the all-important luke backstory. but like asking julie to rejoin the band with a shinier gig than a school dance flies in the face of actually making amends, so, too, does asking julie to empathize with luke’s emotional journey when the boys failed to take julie’s into account when they hurt her. only this time, it works as an olive branch.

now, i’m not saying that julie’s acting out of character in being sympathetic to luke’s pain, quite the opposite is the case. and i’m also not saying it’s bad that she does find sympathy for his situation — again, i’d argue that the opposite is true. it’s just, at the same time, it’s not a good look to force aside the young woman of color’s hurt in service of the white dude who hurt her feelings in the first place’s tragic backstory. the narrative is asking julie not to be mad at the choices luke made in the past two episodes because he’s really sad, actually.

and sure that’s an ungracious read of the moment, but i stand by the fact that it’s present in the text of the episode all the same, even with a little more nuance than i’m currently giving it credit for.

all that being said, alex and reggie do a bit to win back this highly insensitive maneuver with another stab at an apology.

alex addresses julie’s comment about them knowing “how tough it’s been for her to play” by reiterating that not showing up let her down and they get that that’s a crappy way to feel, while reggie takes a crack at julie’s “our songs were good” by emphasizing that they all love being in a band and making music with her. it’s a slight step up from their sorry in the garage, but not a complete fix because they’re all still sitting with the fact that they need julie to make the most of their music and how that complicates their declarations of loyalty.

the thing that makes this attempt at reconciliation different than those prior, of course, is this line:

the acknowledgement that things haven’t been fixed + the politeness + the implication that they’re willing to put in the time to earn her trust back so long as she lets them makes the apology a good enough one to accept. well, that, and:

one gets the sense that if rose could actually speak to julie in that moment, she’d be reminding her the value of grace. and, of course, we know that this also serves as a reminder to julie that good things are fleeting, loss is around every corner, and holding close what you care about is important. so she does just that by letting go of her (righteous, righteous) anger and reuniting the band.

still, even though alex and reggie have had their chance to make amends, luke doesn’t get the same moment to show he’s actually paid attention to julie’s needs in 1.06. so, naturally, he starts immediately in their first scene together in 1.07. 

i mentioned in my exhaustive list for “finally free” that julie picking a sunset curve song for their reunion number is a lovely, understated way for her acknowledge luke’s lost musical legacy, and i have similar feelings about the fact that luke suggests “edge of great” for their follow-up gig. it’s his first step in proving to her that he does care about the music they’ve written together with actions instead of empty apologies and misguided gestures.

by the end of the episode, though, the three of them take a step back (reggie gets points for his being, like, half a step) when they learn that, in addition to letting down julie, one of the consequences of their night chasing revenge is a ticking clock on their existence.

though i understand the urge to protect julie from the alarming news that their power is going out, there’s also a lot of selfishness behind the decision. julie loses them in the end no matter what, but lying to her about it and planning to leave without an explanation shows a disregard for her emotional journey in a similar way standing her up did. in fact, this plan is basically to stand her up for eternity. not cool, guys.

naturally, since it’s luke who’s the one proposing the terrible plan and it’s luke who never officially demonstrated his understanding of how he hurt julie’s feelings by not showing up when it mattered, it’s fitting that he’s suddenly more in tune with his own feelings. and, with that, comes a new awareness of how his and julie’s feelings interact, starting with this moment in 1.08.

you can see his conflict over her declaration. she’s worried without knowing just how much there is to be worried about, and that makes him sad because it’s confirmation of the fact that he’s important to her. that losing him will mean a lot of pain for her. but instead of cluing her in, he makes a conscious choice to continue withholding the information of his imminent departure. and maybe it’s such a weak deflection because he’s already starting to come to terms with how unfair he’s being to her, but even so, he’s not being a good friend when julie is showing up for him in big, unexpected ways he’d never even thought to ask for.

and again, here — 

— just after they’ve acknowledged that there’s a something and not a nothing between them, you can see him sober with the thought that she doesn’t know they’re about to lose each other. but it’s still not enough to move him to share. maybe because he prefers that she live with the possibility of that something when he no longer can, maybe because he’s too caught up in his own feelings about how crappy this hand they’ve been dealt by the universe is. but in any case, he keeps tight-lipped.

UNTIL.

it’s seeing her excited about a future their music can’t have that finally pushes him into coming clean. and i love how subtly this demonstrates that he has been paying attention, actually, and he knows that what hurt julie the most was the feeling that their music took a backseat to his past. if he crosses over without telling her the whole, ugly truth about the mistake he made by standing her up, then he crosses over stuck in that mistake. because part of that whole, ugly truth is the beautiful realization that no music is worth making, julie, if we’re not making it with you. and he’s not quite at that particular aspect of his truth yet — he still has to experience the what if of caleb’s club to be able to make the declaration with the conviction he does — but when he finally does tell her that and means it, she’s given the catharsis she’s needed since the dance. because he’s backing up his apology with action (i.e. being willing to literally no longer exist instead of making music with someone else) and providing her with the same consideration she showed him when she rejoined the band because his loss felt more important than her anger. and reaching that level of give and take in their relationship, physically represented in their hug, finally sets them free.

so, yes. even though 1.06 is clunky and a little tasteless at times, i can acknowledge that the story manages to win any missteps back. quite poetically, honestly. all’s forgiven.

[old-congratzams]

endeavor x fem reader with a Kitty Cheshire quirk (neko with ability to teleport) plot: reader super low Grade villain that love to start trouble and teleport away but endeavor catches her she can’t teleport away and endeavor teaches her a lesson nsfw 😺

aaa, i hope this is good! i feel like it’s a lil bit rushed but maybe it’s just my self criticism kicking in asdhaskfhsf thanks so much for requestingggg

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐰. 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐢

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of blood, size difference, smutty smut, blowjob, cum eating, cat girl idk how to tag this one hadhsdhf

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓. I can’t control what you guys choose to read or not but I’d be way more comfortable if minors stayed away from my works. <3

Enji was annoyed. Doing rounds on a night market was always so monotonous because the presence of the number one hero quickly scared the villains and criminals away. But during that night in particular, things escalated quickly and Enji rushed towards the commotion.

"Endeavor, you're here! Do something!"

Chasing a delinquent that stole fish from a nearby stand was nowhere near the number one's ideal job. However, people gathering around and expecting him to do something so simple like going after a low criminal added enough fuel to his irritation and shook his ego.

"Watch this."

He followed the scent of raw fish down the streets and the trail ended in a dark alley. Enji thought he'd seen someone with cat ears and tail but didn't find anyone there, it was like they'd just disappeared right under his nose. And speaking of nose, the scent was back and it was-- behind him!

Enji was quick to grab the criminal by the arm — the first thing his gloved hand could reach. The criminal let out a squeal while in mid-air, a pair of strong hands holding her own behind her back.

"I see. A teleportation quirk, huh?"

Her cat ears twitched by the sound of his deep, dangerous voice. She tried to struggle her way out, free from the arms of the pro hero.

"There's no use, you won't be able to--"

She frenetically fluttered her tail, squirming as anxiety build up in her tummy. It was unfair that a low criminal as her would be caught by the number one himself.

"Tch."

The wiggling tail seemed to annoy Enji even further. Holding the tiny arms in one hand, the other reached for the tail in a firm grasp. The action caused the criminal to inhale deeply and freeze.

Tears gathered on the corner of her dolly eyes and red flushed her cheeks. The hero was oblivious to the fact her tail was very sensitive and any form of rough touch would send waves of warmth to her womb.

"L-Let me go..." Her voice sounded meek and bearing distress. "I'll pay for it-- I promise!!"

The grip on her tail tightened, the incoherent actions increasing Enji's suspicions. "What do you think you’re doing?!"

She gasped when Enji tugged on her tail by accident, instinctively rolling her hips and searching for friction while low moans left her mouth.

The sinful sounds put the hero in alert, his hand securing her arms now reaching for her mouth and his voice now low and threatening. "Do you want people to hear?"

The criminal shook her head even though her mind was clouded with sexual needs. Her nipples were hard as pebbles as seen from her vest.

"S-sir, it's that you're t-touching my tail..."

"Tch. I can't risk you running away."

She breathed heavily, pressed against his chest and her tail still on his hand. A sudden wave of pleasure hit the cat girl, sending shivers all over her body and a loud moan escaping her lips.

Enji pressed the girl against the wall, holding her by her face and squeezing her cheeks. "Are you insane?!? I told you to keep quiet--"

The look of pure lust, gaze lost in heaven and drool dripping from her chin made Enji realize what she meant before. It was impossible for him, a healthy man, to not go hard knowing that he caused that, even if accidentally.

Her tail fluttered, exposing the euphoria she was feeling. Although very embarassed by the situation and quite ashamed, the hero weighted his course of action.

"I'll give you what you want and then you'll turn yourself in," Enji proposed, grabbing the tail and putting it over the line of his cock, stroking both over his hero suit.

The way her eyes rolled to the back of the head and her sharp teeth drew blood from her lips encouraged Enji to continue taking advantage of the criminal. He licked her lips clean from the blood and then pushed his tongue into her small mouth, the size difference adding fuel to the fire.

"Lick it." He pressed the tip of her tail against her lips, to which she complied. "Now touch yourself with it while you suck me off."

She did everything she was told. The wetness from her previous orgasm coated her tail and both her tail and clit were very sensitive to any touch, which sent electrical shocks through her body every time she fluttered it against her small hardened bud.

While she moaned, Enji freed his cock from the suit, pushing it into her mouth. "Watch out for the teeth."

His cock was too big for her mouth so she had to open big and wide to accommodate it. Enji slowly fucked her mouth, not allowing any further than the tip to pass her lips. Her tongue worked hard around it, fluttering against the vein underneath his cock and giving it special attention.

"You probably like milk..." Enji pondered. "If you're a good girl until the end I might reward you with it."

By that suggestion, she licked and sucked eagerly. The tip of her tail fluttered faster on her clit, both sensitive from the filthy pleasure Enji was putting her through. Her tiny hands switched from massaging the base of his cock to toying with his sack.

A disappointed cry left the girl's mouth once Enji pulled his cock out of it. Precum glistened the tip and the girl probably had drunk loads of it. Enji's cock felt sensitive and was ready to shoot cum all over her face but he had other plans for her. It felt decades since he last fucked and the filthy, embarassing situation didn't help at all.

"On your hands and knees, girl."

Her legs were shaking from the heavy stimulus, the ending of her tail covered in her own wetness, but she promptly obeyed the command.

His hand grabbed the tail forcefully, getting it out of his way. The roughness he handled the tail caused the girl's pussy to tighten and dampen the suit even more. Weren't for the piece of clothing, she would be dripping on the alley like she had just wetted herself.

Enji gave each her butt cheeks a light slap, making them jiggle with the impact. He pushed aside the sopping fabric, sighing by the view of her dripping cunt and resisting the urge to plunge in one finger. Instead, he lined up his fat cock against her entrance, responding with a guttural moan by the feeling of her warm velvety pussy sucking him in.

Needless to say, his cock stretched her with ease, the wetness aiding the intrusion. She felt so full while his cock pressed just the right spots, she felt like bursting, she felt--

Enji thrusted in one rapid motion, burying his cock deep into her as soon as he felt her convulsing around him, groaning at how tight she are. He lost control the minute he felt her coming around him, even though he was only halfway through.

Tears gathered at the corner of her eyes and she spilled all over the hero. Thankfully, his suit was impermeable but the concrete underneath their knees was not.

A hand grabbed her hair while the other remained at the base of her tail, holding her in place while he thrusted into the girl. She couldn't discern if she was so high in ecstasy that his violent thrusts didn't hurt her at all or if Enji was taking such a good care of her that it's not even supposed to hurt. Either way, she knew for sure she'd be sore in the morning — in jail, perhaps.

But she didn't want to think about it while being fucked by the number one himself. His girth and length were massive, and opened her whole. The way he thrusted into her got more erratic and she could feel he was holding back.

“N-no, don't... don't hold back--!!" she pleaded, tail fluttering in agitation and her body ready to be ruined.

He let go of her hair and fisted her tail, giving it a harsh tug. Her hips were pulled back in the mean time, the new angle allowing the tip of his cock to line up perfectly with her cervix and she screamed from the sudden burn.

Enji was close to his limit, his voice cracking from pleasure and the threats that left his lips seemed empty. "If... If you keep screaming, I'll have to shut-- shut you up."

She was drenching, losing any focus she regained after coming while Enji played with her tail, but her body reached its limits and started descending from the previous high.

"E-Endeavor-san, I don't think I can come anymore..." she murmured.

He groaned, taking his cock out of her abused hole. It felt heavy, the cum ready to burst any minute. "Come 'ere, open your mouth."

His hand stroked his cock a couple times before he gushed cum all over her tongue. She let some of it spill on the ground, not able to gulp it all down. Enji looked just as wasted as the girl in front of him.

He breathed heavily as if he just won a fight, having used all of his power to win. The criminal waited patiently for him to say anything after the haze dissipated.

"You... You were a very good kitten," he praised after adjusting his suit. "But you still owe the owner some apologies after stealing from him."

She agreed, obediently following Enji from the dark alley back to the food stands. Once there, she bowed apologetically to the owner while Enji kept his arms crossed in front of his chest, trying to look the usual but his eyes betraying the fatigue and indifference towards the present moment.

After everything was settled, Enji ended up paying for the damage she had caused. He grabbed the cat girl by the neck and guided her through the streets, only one thing in his mind.

"Disobedient girls like you should have someone to discipline them. How about that, hm?"

Something in her guts was telling her that she was stuck with the number one for some time — not that she was complaining, though.

[capricesofchance]

Half the time, I didn’t know what to make of Dad.

Sometimes, I don’t think Mom much did, either. I don’t remember much of her, but I do know she had been torn. I think she hated him-- or, well, that’s too strong a word. I was always told she could have been a damn saint. It just wasn’t in her. To hate. Though, under the angelic disposition and the sense of duty of a wife, she burned with.. something.

I suppose she hated when he wasn’t with us. When he wasn’t home. Because that meant he was at the casino, in the barroom; rolling dice and spinning tables, throwing down the family money... which wasn’t much. But.. he always came home with a little more than he left. So I guess she didn’t think she could complain. He always said us Dents had a history of chance going in our favor. Funny, that.

They called’im Double-Down Dent. All the wiseguys around there treated him like one of them-- they loved him. He was basically a celebrity. And I mean, he was clean. He wasn’t in the life, or anything, but when he was on a streak he’d buy everyone drinks, and two more for himself; and so it was all hail Double-Down Dent.

I’ve met some of the guys that knew him, way back when, through my job. It wasn’t always pleasant, but as soon as they made the connection, some nostalgia would flood their systems like a high, and they’d be shooting off all kinds’a stories about him. Everybody was a friend of his, it seemed like. They said he could walk into a room of old money and blood money and whatever else and just, wrap’em around his finger with a toss of the dice and a round of whiskey on the rocks. It was just the ol’ Double-Down charm.

They’d always tell me he could’a gone into politics. They’d always laugh. Can you imagine, a Dent in office? I didn’t know how to respond so I just shrugged. That’s how Dad was.

I didn’t really know that, though. It was always news to me. He only ever came home with the sloppy consequences.

Well, I mean, don’t get me wrong-- most nights, yeah he stank with the cologne of Bacardi’s and forty proof, but.. he wasn’t out of control or anything. He just went right to bed-- always made sure it was his own-- maybe gave me a pat on the head or a ‘hey there champ’ or whatever. Even when he started losing more than he won, it wasn’t terrible. He had her. She was there to ground him, when the karma came to collect on Double-Down’s luck.

Apparently the scale hadn’t been balanced enough. It wasn’t much past my seventh birthday, when she was gone. It felt like she had just, disappeared overnight-- the cancer was quick, at least.

Dad may have been devastated, but even then he didn’t take it out on me. He tried his damndest to raise me right, raise me strong-- sometimes he went without food, when the money got eaten up by Craps and Roulette, just so I could go to bed with a full stomach. Gotham wouldn’t just chew me up and spit me out if he didn’t, if I didn’t grow up as strong as he could ensure-- it wouldn’t just take a chunk out. It’d take me whole.

He always wanted me to know how things weren’t fair. Even in the casino he loved, odds were stacked against you. That’s just how life was. No God, no justice, no Heaven or Hell-- nothing would ever tip the scales for you.

It wasn’t until one night, the trend started.

I had always loved my law shows, even as a little kid, and he didn’t much mind them. I don’t remember which exactly it had been, but it was the usual plot. The defendant was unfairly accused, the righteous defense attorney gettin’ a gotcha on the big evil D.A., justice gettin’ properly served.. y’know.

And.. I don’t know, I just, it was one of those times where you blurt things out. It had been a few months later, after she died, and I was just a kid that didn’t know any better.

‘I miss Mom.’ 

I caught myself a little too late, because those three, thoughtless little words were already out there, hanging in the open. I was scared as hell, because I didn’t know what Dad was gonna do-- cry? break down? scream and yell? TV didn’t give dads that drank a shining reputation, and I had heard from other kids stories of parents hittin’ their children-- he never laid a hand on me, but, well, I was still young and dumb.

He just kept his eyes on the TV, and took a sip of amber, and said, ‘Me too.’

It was obvious I should’ve left it there. But like I said; young and dumb. I had thought circles around it, over those few, empty months, and I had come to the naive little conclusion that...

‘It isn’t fair.’

I should’ve known better, at that point. With all the lessons dad had ground into me, the unfairness of life was the golden rule. He thought I had taken it to heart by then, I guess. I don’t know. Despite whatever he thought, it was clear I still hadn’t.

So he got up. Took another little draw from his glass. The ice clinked around as he leaned over to shut off the TV. Sat back down, and finally he gave me this funny look I had been expecting. I never knew what it meant, but I knew it he gave it to me when I didn’t understand something important he was trying to tell me.

Apparently I had been feelin’ like a pretty bold little shit, since he hadn’t done much so far, and turning off the TV just let me turn my full, idiot attention onto him. I asked something like why God had taken Mom away (because, despite all his insistence on there being no such thing, I still strongly remembered Mom’s devotion; the big Bible she had always captivated me, though she never forced it on me, and after she died I never let it go, because it was one of the few things I could definitively hold onto about her) and he heaved out this great, deep sigh.

‘He didn’t,’ he told me, ‘because there isn’t any God. You know I loved your mom, so so much, but she was wrong about that, alright? She was wrong. There’s no God, there’s no Devil-- ain’t no paradise above us or damnation under our feet. Just like there’s no Easter Bunny or Santa Claus or Tooth Fairy, no monsters out to get you, hidin’ under the bed, in the closet, and no one to save you from them. Just us.’

I thought about my law shows. About the dashing defense attorney that saved the innocent from the monstrous D.A., and about the scales held by the woman, blind but exact.

‘what about.. justice...?’

‘No, Harvey--’ He had begun to snap, but his eyes shut for a second and he breathed out, slowly. Whatever simmered cooled back down, and he opened up his eyes and looked at me again. ‘--...that’s the point. All there is, is...’

And he paused. Mulled over something in his head.

‘I’ll show you.’ He set down his drink, and began fishing around in his pocket. ‘You like games, right? ‘Cause we’re gonna play a little game.’

And as he said that he pulled his hand out, and I saw between his fingers the glint of metal. He opened his hand and in his broad palm was a coin. An old silver dollar. I remembered it, because it was his good luck charm, of sorts. It always mystified me when he’d flip it-- that kiddish sort of obsession with the things your parents put importance in, y’know?

I just nodded, because I was enthralled, and he chuckled a little. ‘Course, you’re my little man, hm?’ He held the coin away, getting ready to flip it. ‘Now call it, son. Heads or tails.’

I tilted my head, in the way I always did when I considered something. He watched me for a few moments, but clearly I was taking too long for such a simple decision. ‘Call it, son.’

‘Tails.’ and then, ‘What do I get if I win?’

I tilted my head again when he got another funny look on his face, one I didn’t recognize. The same kind of look he’d shoot the pantry, before handing me his plate. Now I’m older, I’d call it some kind of hardened resignation. Because he was about to do something necessary, but something he didn’t want to do.

‘Champ, it ain’t that kind of game.’

His thumb slipped under the coin’s edge, but stayed there, playing at it for a tentative second.

‘It’s just blind luck, Harv. Y’see? Just.. Just luck.’

I tracked the coin as it spun through the air with a tinny little ‘ting’, arcing up and up, before falling gently back into his hand. He slapped it softly onto the wrist of his other hand. I bounced up for a second onto my knees so I could see.

“And then what?” The doctor asked. I blinked at her, breath still hitched in my lungs in a pregnant pause. I rambled more than I thought, was more absorbed than I realized, because the cracks of world beyond the blinds was darker now, and there was the pattering of rain against glass instead of warm sun leaking into the room. The sky rumbled distantly, in one of Gotham’s usual nightly storms. Gently, she prompted again, “Harvey?”

“What happened with your father, Harvey?”

I thought of Dad. The fleeting, little things that was my memory’s shorthand for him. His rumbling laugh, warm and deep in his chest. The clink of ice on glass. Amber liquid mixed with dark carbonation. Late nights waiting up for that sought after pat on my head, that little assurance from him that he still cared. What, to a seven year old, seemed like the hands of a giant; which held me tight when I couldn’t sleep, haunted by pale skin and sunken eyes and the rhythmic beep of my mother’s absent heart; which entrapped the coin one last time in a stolen glimmer.

“Then, he broke my jaw.”