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lokisgoodgirl · 7 months ago

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No Mercy [Loki x Female Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki interrogates you....sexually. Warnings. 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Ceremonial erotica. Fun & Games. Soft! Dom Loki. Established relationship. Light bondage. Denial. (w/c 1.8k)

“Do you plead mercy, little one?” Loki’s voice is terrifyingly calm. If it weren’t for the violently hard erection pressed against his thigh beneath those tight, slutty trousers you might actually believe you were in danger. Deny me, you’d challenged him. Make me break. And he has. And he’s close.

“You’ll never make me talk,” you say defiantly. The layer of fear in your voice is fake, but the tremble isn’t.

It feels like you’re dripping on the bed, knees together, folded to the side, hands tied to the posts. Loki’s eyes flicker to the sheets beneath you as you squirm and a slight narrow of his eyes confirms that yes, you are in fact, dripping on the bed.

You’ve been at this for almost an hour. He’s barely touched you. Just a graze of his tactfully deployed fingers, a blindfold, the targeted skim of his breath and the devastation of his carefully chosen words.

Now the blindfold runs between his fingers as he tilts his head, thinking. “My interrogation requires a little more...finesse, then,” he says, making the blindfold disappear in a flash of green. “A touch more...pressure.’ You whine, yanking the thick leather binds wrapped around your wrists. The manufactured innocence on your face is like blood to a free-wolf and Loki’s lips curl in a wicked smile.

“I’ve been doing this a long, long time,” he says imperiously as he unbuttons a cuff. His long fingers make slow work of folding the sleeve up the meat of his forearm. “I may be a Prince, but an Interrogator of the Crown was my calling, I think. Don’t you?” Your chin rises and you nail him with your stare, hoping your tits look as great as you think they do. You arch valiantly towards his quiet wrath and with a deep breath, you deploy your best 50's starlet impression. “You’ll never break me….Loki Laufeyson.” He releases an exaggerated growl that makes new arousal well between your tightly closed thighs. “Is that right?”

A golden flicker licks from his forehead, the horned diadem unfurling from nothing at all. He’s working on the other sleeve as he swaggers to the side of the bed, taking his time. An oil of sweat has formed on your chest and you squirm for real, trying to break free. “You know how I feel about the horns, oh god-” you mutter, breaking character, clenching as another devilish smile stretches his lips. He stands by your head, crotch inches from your face. So close you can see his cock throb through the fabric. So close you can smell the earthy sweetness of his pre-cum. A low rumble of laughter penetrates the air. “I think you’re closer to defeat than you let on, little one,” he says, drawing a cool finger down your cheek. “Desperate to yield to me, desperate to give in to my demands; to furnish me with the carnal knowledge of your body that I require…that the realm requires.” Against every instinct screaming in your body, you yank your face away. “Perhaps not,” he says bitterly. A wave of dark sandalwood fills your nostrils as the mattress dips and Loki mounts the bed one impossibly long leg at a time.

He spreads his knees while he spreads yours. His face is bladed and angular in shadow, smouldering eyes sparkling beneath his battle-crown of gold.

The god reaches forward and runs his huge palms up the front of your thighs. His touch is electric. You buck up, feeling a web of arousal stick against the bedsheets. Loki glances at it through half-lidded eyes, his trunk heaving with heavy, silent breaths. “You bring this on yourself,” he whispers coldly as a strange object appears in his hand. It looks like a little bell with a round, tapered tip. But heavy. It looks heavy. There's a slight amber tint that warms in the low light.

“My seal,” he explains with an air of condescension. He swings it between his thumb and forefinger. “You will submit to me...one way or another.” He leans closer, dragging the cool golden seal over the curve of your breast and a violent shiver wrenches down your spine. “They always do,' he says. "And I have come prepared.” His eyes follow the metal seal’s descent over the dip of your waist, enjoying the shudders of overstimulation they cause. The graze of his raised markings harden your nipples and you strain your neck to the ceiling as he runs a line down the centre of your stomach and pauses at the top of your mound. The weight between your legs is unbearable; it’s an emptiness only Loki’s cock can fill. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?” he murmurs sweetly with those dark brows peaked. But it’s an act, trying to trick you – of course. Oh god, he’s so fucking hot, it’s terrible. Every urge screams to cry mercy and have him fuck you like a victorious king; ride him as you hang onto those horns and make him see double. “Do it,” you spit, clenching your teeth. You yank the leather ropes again. “Pervert.” Loki’s brows rise in genuine surprise, a flash of mirth you recognise skating across his face before his features harden again. Role play with Loki is like nothing else. The king of your heart, but king of the performance too. “Very well,” he says, and the cool roll of metal slips against your cunt. He toys with it, pressing its ridged base against your clit and rubbing it in slow, maddening circles. “This seal has started wars,” he says in the same calm, even tone, “ended them, too.” Your stifle a groan of pleasure as the curved tip dips inside your pussy. Its sharp bite seems to melt inside the heat of your slit. “But you may be my greatest challenge,” he purrs as he slides it from the hole. You whimper as he brings it to his lips, rolling it, moaning in a low inhumane frequency. “And since I have just now claimed you with my crest...perhaps your conscience will allow me to claim you with my cock.” Your will to resist is fading fast. Loki tsk’s with feigned irritation as the seal vanishes and his attention turns to the mess beneath your legs. Arousal sticks to your inner thighs in a glistening sheet.

You groan as he flexes his fingers in front of his face, thick veins standing to attention on the back of his hands. He folds all but two, sucking them between his lips and hollowing his cheekbones in the process like an absolute whore. Without a pause, he curls them inside you and the air dissolves from your lungs in a strangled moan of his name. “Doesn’t count…” he warns. You look at him with your mouth open, brow a map of twitching lines. "You have to say it."

Loki kneels between your legs, as cool as Jotunheim ice, pumping his fingers slowly inside your slippery cunt, thumb sliding against your swollen clit with an arrogant smirk on his face. Your hips rise to meet him on every thrust of his palm. Breath comes in short bursts as you clench around his fingers, back arching into his touch as orgasm threatens to ruin you- He slips them out. “Loki!”

The frustration is real - no need to act. The god’s eyes widen in a shameless caricature of innocence. “I have given you every opportunity to yield to me, I have I not?” He pushes the rolled sleeves of his perfectly fitted shirt higher in a targeted attack. Your legs have begun to tremble at the loss of his touch. “And at every opportunity," he continues, "you have stayed true to your loyalties...which I respect."

The ceremonial sincerity in his voice is sickeningly erotic as he hooks his hands beneath your knees. “But pleasure...true pleasure...is a privilege reserved for those who yield to me.”

The sharp cool of his metal diadem stings your flesh as he kisses your inner thigh. He draws closer to your desperate sex, so close you can feel his breath cool against it as he says, “So cry mercy darling, and it will be yours.” He’s really dialled the drama up to eleven tonight. Instinctually you try and lurch your arms forward to grab the curve of his horns and press him deep into your pussy; mad for the feel of his tongue flat and flawless moving against it. “Oh god,” you whimper, fighting yourself. “Good girl,” he purrs, grazing his parted lips over your swollen labia. It’s too much. “Oh god, Loki…” “Good girl, say it...beg for it,” he spits as he falls back on his haunches and reaches for the button of his suit trousers. He looks so fucking mean.

The beat in your chest has turned to syrupy thumps as your legs straighten and contract on either side of him. “You want to be my good girl…” A pop echoes and his cock suddenly weighs in his hand like a weapon. You’re salivating...actually salivating. He pumps slowly back and forth, jaw clenching, his eyes hard as flints. “Don’t make me finish myself on your traitorous face.”

“Mercy,” you gasp. Loki’s grin widens and it touches his eyes. He licks his lips. “Do you want me to stay in character?” he asks quietly as his clothes disappear- everything but the horned diadem on his head.

His shoulders roll and every muscle in his torso tightens, thighs bulging as he clenches against the punishing grip of his fist. You bite your lip, nodding. His eyes flash. “Well chosen,” Interrogator Loki says. The hard edge in his voice has returned with a vengeance and he melts the leather binds holding you with a wave of his hand. “I trust my faith in your repentance is not misplaced,” he says as he crawls up your body with intent. Loki’s hair swings around your jaw, the scent of him, the weight of him. His length presses like metal against your throbbing clit and you buck your hips, trying to catch him. Every thought in your head evaporates as Loki of Asgard buries himself inside you with a shuddering exhale. Your legs wrap around his hips, forcing his ass down, pushing him deeper.

There’s a thud, and then another one; the curve of his horns beating against the headboard. Loki deploys a wolfish smile as his fingers curl around your wrists. “Can’t take any chances with my minx of a prisoner,” he whispers against your cheek. “No mercy,” you moan into his open mouth. It’s a request he understands as he delivers another targeted roll of his hips. “No mercy,” he replies.

A/N - Have I told you guys how much I love you recently? Because I really do. I hope you know that. x

Tags ( in comments - all of you, soz. Normal way is not workinnng)

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader #lokismut #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki marvel #loki oneshot

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blanketswitches · 2 years ago

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#Manufacturer Of Electric Bed Warmer Controller India

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pinkrelish · 2 years ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶It's Christmas morning at the Munson's and Adrie has a small request.✶

NSFW — slow burn, fluff, lovesick yearning, very light angst, 18+ for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 7/20 [wc: 3.4k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 7: Breakthrough

Dreams of sleeping in were crushed one tiny footstep at a time.

Morning broke through the burgundy bed sheet hung as a curtain in the window. Slivers of blue fought away the slumbering gloom clinging to the peeled wallpaper, invading the small bedroom in drowsy clock ticks. Murky wine-colored shadows caressed the bundled comforter, crowded the pillows, soothed closed eyes into sweet dreams. Darkness cradled his head and sold him a lullaby fantasy. An aching yearn of a dream where the cold penetrating the thin trailer walls was kept at bay by more than his own body heat. Arms encircling him, a kiss behind his ear, a gentle wake up call. An idyllic rapture easily woven from the fibers of his unguarded heart. An aspiration quickly escaping his wishful fingers at the sound of running, and the vibrations of the trailer shaking, and–especially–the little voice yelling at him his five extra minutes were up.

“Daddy! You have to wake up.” Adrie jumped knees-first onto the mattress, and bounced her way over to him. “It’s Christmas, you have to get up!”

He grumbled from his warm pocket of air under the covers, and she whined.

“Please,” she begged, crawling towards him.

He winced, and hissed, “Ow-ow-ow, watch the hair. Miss Mouse won’t like me if I go bald.” He dropped his head back to where she sank her mighty fists into his pillow, and she apologized by putting all her strength into shaking his shoulder instead.

Wayne called from the kitchen, “I’m gettin’ started on our famous Christmas casserole.”

“Now that,” Eddie said in an upbeat tone, “I’ll get up for.”

“You’re mean,” Adrie pouted, scooting until her knees dug into his spine, and added on to it by saying it wasn’t fair he was making her wait to open presents.

Eddie twisted around to see her manufactured sad face (practiced over the years to elicit the strongest pity in him), and he snaked his arm out of the blankets to hook it around her, bringing her wriggling self in for a sloppy kiss on her forehead. She made a ‘yuck!’ sound and pushed away.

“Go sit, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Willfully, Adrienne slipped from his hold and sprinted the length of the trailer, rattling the metal window panes along her way.

In the following moment of quiet, he inhaled deep, and sighed through his hands scrubbing over his face. The oil in the electric radiator popped. A bird chirped. Music blasted from a neighbor’s home. A faraway bike skidded, spitting up loose rocks from the trailer park’s entrance.

Eddie rolled onto his back, and blinked at the stained ceiling. He tried to not make a habit of sleeping in Adrie’s bed now that she was older, but sometimes his back cried for a break from the lumpy couch cushions.. His back, his hips, his knees, his neck. All of it. Every now and then he needed the relief, to flatten himself out on the mattress after several long days of work wearing down on his body, even if it was considered weird or wrong by others.

Swinging his legs over the short drop to the floor, Eddie straightened out his thick knit socks, sweatpants, sweatshirt. He rubbed his knuckles against his dry eyes, stinging a line of water along his lashes. Flipped off the switch to the heater. Ran his fingers through his tangled hair, mouth tasting of stale beer from drinking last night with Wayne.

He stepped out of the room that used to be his, and staring at him down the hallway, past the kitchen, at the other end of the lousy home, was his little girl. She sat crisscrossed at the stout tree smelling of fresh sap, illuminated by colorful strands of lights, and backed by old ornaments previously stored in cardboard boxes. Her eyes sparkled with silver tinsel happiness, and her springy curls bounced with the excitement of her wave.

Wayne wrung a damp dish towel around his hands as he and Eddie made their way to the couch, and he gestured at her. “Alright, darlin’, you can go.”

The sacrifices were worth it.

In this lousy home filled with overdue bills and underprivileged struggles, was an abundance of love and awe. Eddie sat at the edge of his make-do bed with scratchy cushions that chafed his skin raw, and brushed his shaky fingers over his lips. “Yeah? Is that the one you wanted?” he asked, grinning so wide his puffy sleep-deprived eyes nearly closed from the unbridled joy he felt watching his daughter tear into the Rockin Robot cassette player and recorder; a toy which had an attached microphone so she could record herself singing onto blank tapes. “Wanna make music just like me?”

“Yes! I love it!”

It didn’t take long for Adrie to open her presents in the established order–smallest to largest. Stocking stuffers first, which she dumped out onto the pine-needled carpet, and snatched all the chocolates to put on the coffee table next to the plate of cookie crumbs and empty Looney Tunes mug. Tossed the pack of new socks and dress into a pile, but wore her pink rain boots. The talking Barney the Dinosaur doll, cassette recorder, and Barbie Fold ‘n Fun play house were placed aside for assembly and batteries later.

Wayne gathered the ribbons and bows she discarded to be saved for next year, and said, “Okay, Miss Adrie. Looks like you have one present left.”

The forest green bag with a portrait of Saint Nick sat propped against the tree, nearly as tall as Adrie when she stood and grabbed the handles. She peeked inside, and in one motion, dropped to the floor, and dislodged gift after gift. An eight-page book with reusable stickers she could move around to create scenes of dinosaurs roaming the land. A big box of 64 crayons with two coloring books. A plastic jewelry making kit. A puzzle. Containers of Play-Doh. And the very last item, turned over and shaken out from the bag, was a unicorn.

Adrie squealed, and swept the stuffed animal into her arms for a merciless hug. “He’s so cute!” she said, burying her face in the powder blue fur.

Eddie stopped tracing his lips. Wayne tilted his head at the scene, confused.

Spotting a small red envelope amongst the torn newspaper her presents were wrapped in, Adrie picked it up, and mouthed out the handwriting she wasn’t familiar with. “Santa left this for you.” Adrie held it out for Eddie to take.

Prying his gaze off the unexpected hoard, he accepted the envelope with his name on it, not uttering a word, nor reacting more than necessary. She bolted for her toys, and Wayne’s scrutiny was hot on the side of his expressionless face, watching him slide his finger under the corner of the flap and break the seal gently, avoiding tearing the paper.

He pulled out the card to reveal an illustration of two cardinals in a pine tree flocked with white glitter snow with a generic greeting on the front. Certain words were underlined in pen afterwards.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas

He opened it to see if anything was written inside.

One glimpse.

He smashed the card closed and turned his face away from his uncle.

Collecting himself, Eddie sniffed and ran his knuckles along his jaw until he reached back and wrung his nape as he stood up, and walked to the coat hooks, slipping on his jacket and shoving his feet into his work boots without acknowledging his family.

“Where’re you–?” Wayne stared at his back in quiet bafflement.

“Goin’ out for a smoke,” he answered, and shut the door behind him.

~~~

Tree branches stilled after the delicate breeze knocking them together ceased. Hungry dogs went inside for kibble and warm blankets. Kids stopped riding their bikes when their moms called their names. Humidity dampened the crisp air. Everything hushed.

Eddie sat on the frumpy loveseat on the porch built onto the trailer. His forearms laid on his thighs, and the card remained clapped between his palms. He took a shaky breath. Exhaled. Or tried, anyway, to breathe despite his nose stopping up.

He opened the card again and read the message spanning the entire blank space available.

merry christmas eddie,

i hope adrie likes the gifts!

i know it’s hard for you to find peace,

so i tried going for quiet things that would

keep her busy, like the puzzle. it’s double sided!

that’ll keep her entertained. and i loved

play-doh as a kid, so i hope she does

too. & i can get her more coloring books if

she doesn’t like the animal ones. i know

Continued on the other side–

the bracelet kit says ages 7+ but maybe

you can supervise her. i remember having

one when i was little, before parents cared if

we choked on the beads.

SEASONS GREETINGS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR

if she’s not still in her unicorn phase, spare me!

it was too cute to pass up.

anyway, please get lots of rest over the holidays.

you deserve to relax.

–♡–

mouse

His daughter came dashing out the door, and ran up to him with her jacket flapping around her arms. He shoved the card under his thigh, and shifted his focus to zipping it up for her to silence his emotions from surfacing, not having the energy to risk shattering the facade of the morning by explaining why the unicorn she galloped up his leg meant more to him than it did her.

“You like what Santa got you?” he asked, running a heavy hand over her hair.

“He knew exactly what I wanted,” she rejoiced.

With the temperature dropped, and her boots shiny, she raced the stuffed animal up to his hip, and left him to babysit it while she played outside in the frozen-over yard.

Gladly, he tucked the unicorn companion under his arm as Wayne pushed open the squeaky side door and joined him.

Under normal circumstances, Wayne’s old man stoicism worked wonders on getting Eddie to talk. It was a sure thing. He’d see him come home with red-rimmed eyes, or that far away gaze on the worser days, and he sat in earnest patience, knowing his nephew needed the cool down time to organize his thoughts, and then he’d explain what had him upset.

It worked less well in the years following the incident which led to Eddie’s ostracization from Hawkins, but he just had to be patient. It would work. Eventually. Just had to be patient.

And when his nephew refused to speak, Wayne sparked up a cigarette, and ventured, “I don’t, uh, remember us buyin’ those last presents.”

“They’re from the receptionist at work,” Eddie stated. He didn’t move his gaze from staring holes into the worn down floorboards, but he did sink back into the couch, combing his fingers through the unicorn’s white mane.

“Oh,” Wayne said in genuine surprise. “That was nice of her.”

Treading carefully, his uncle spun his hand as he thought of the best way to approach the real conversation he wanted to have. “She seems nice.. To you, and to Adrie.”

That was when Eddie shook his head. “I know where you're going with this,” he warned, absent of any real threat behind the words.

He went silent in stubbornness.

But Wayne just had to be patient.

“She’s very.. uh.” Eddie sighed. He started again, this time looking up at the rusted awning as if it had all the answers to his love life woes. “She’s very vibrant, y’know? From the city, lives a big life, loves performing for people. She doesn’t need a gray cloud like me hanging over her.” He laughed a hollow laugh, and bumped his shoulder into Wayne’s, pretending their conversation was of the light-hearted variety. Like admitting these things aloud didn’t cause a devastating blow to his neglected self-esteem. “Doesn’t need someone like me tying her down to a place like this.”

Wayne scanned the same trailer park in the same small town with the same curse of bearing the Munson name, but he viewed them with less disdain. Less animosity. “You used to be vibrant too, kid. Used to always be talkin’ about your hobbies, playing music too loud, sittin’ out here with your guitar. Always bringing your friends over. What happened?”

Too many things happened, and they were not the kind he verbalized often, so Eddie chose the most obvious.

The corner of his mouth twitched at the joke flashing through his mind. He got in real close to Wayne’s face, raised his hand, and directed his attention. “My vibrancy’s currently ruining her new shoes.”

Tracking his finger, Wayne slowly turned his head in time to see Adrie crack the ice barring her from a puddle, and stomped it into smithereens, sending mud up her pajama pants and into her pretty pink rain boots. She jumped, and jumped, and giggled, and jumped, all over her dad’s heart.

Satisfied, Eddie hugged the unicorn to his chest after making his point.

“Have you considered maybe she likes gray clouds? Or she’s the type that looks forward to the rainy days?”

“We can drop the weather analogies, Wayne,” he said in a curt tone, cutting off his uncle's incessantness. “It’s not that, anyway. I know she likes me, I’m not that dense.”

Wayne didn’t put much effort into keeping the humor out of his voice, “Then what are you being dense about?” The contemptuous head tilt and accompanying eye roll were earned, but not regretted.

“She might be moving away at the end of summer.”

He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Might be?”

“She doesn’t know yet.”

He watched Eddie’s expression slacken to stark blankness again–face and posture wilting, weighed down by his fate–already resigning on a relationship he hadn’t yet given a chance. “Don’t you want to at least try? I mean, you never know. What if she–?”

“Don’t you think I’ve thought about that?” Eddie interrupted, growing annoyed at the topic and allowing it to seep into his temper. “Don’t you think I’ve sat here, day after day, and thought about it from all angles? Over, and over.” He became more animated as he spat out questions rapid-fire. “What if she stays? What if she leaves? What if things work out? What if they don’t? Do I deserve it even if it’s short term? Can I handle it when Adrie asks me why she’s not around anymore? Like, fuck. It’s all I think about. Constantly! Just again, and again. She could move back to New York and live her accomplished life without ever giving me another thought, but what if she doesn’t want to go back? What if she wants to stick around? What if she wants to work with me at the garage forever, and we get married, and buy a small house with a white picket fence, and live out our textbook dream together with 2.5 kids and a dog. Who knows!” Done ranting, Eddie ended it in a full bodied shrug, and collapsed into the cushions, releasing the most cathartic, yet dramatic sigh Wayne had ever heard. “She’s all I think about. Drives me insane.”

Wayne held out the pack of Camels to him, but it was rejected in a limp wave.

“I..” Eddie’s mouth hinged on the words, bottom lip quivering as the questions he posed washed over him as an exhausted, watery-eyed truth, “I didn’t even realize how bad the stress had gotten until she just..” He motioned. “Fixed it.”

Acknowledging the bitter reality, Wayne nodded. “You are much nicer to be around since you two started hanging out.. Adrie sees it, too.”

Not that Eddie meant to be an asshole, but after grueling hours of hard labor, he had little tolerance for the arguments before bath time, or the meltdowns before school. Months prior, he was alongside his daughter, crying harder than she did when the smallest inconvenience set her off, ending with both of them huddled on the floor; one of them screaming to be understood, and the other in a hopeless heap of a man who reduced himself to a shitty father who couldn’t do anything right, drowning under the pressure, anxiety, responsibility to not fuck up again.

Now, he was able to swim to the sun glimmering on the surface.

Wayne landed his rough palm atop Eddie’s untamed bedhead, and soothed him, “You should give yourself a chance at something great. I’ll be here to pick up the pieces if it doesn’t work out.”

Eddie sniffed, and wrung his lips to the side. “You gonna pick up Adrie’s pieces too?” he asked softly.

“I will, son.” Despite the rocky times in their relationship–the slammed doors, the yelling matches, the coming home with a newborn and no money to afford baby formula–Wayne promised him, “Whatever it takes to make you happy. I’ll do it.”

The egg timer in the kitchen dinged.

“Breakfast’s ready,” he grunted, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray, and giving the quick-nod-with-a-flattened-smile older men were known for after confiding in one another, and he went inside.

There wasn’t much time for Eddie to process the weight of his internal decision before Adrie was climbing onto the loveseat. And if she noticed she left a trail of mud up his pant’s leg on her way to kneeling beside him, she didn’t care. All that mattered was her icicle skin melting in the warmth of his heavy arm wrapped around her middle; and effortlessly, she fell into the comfort of his embrace while working her hands beneath his hair, untucking it from his jacket’s collar, and hugging him back.

Eddie stashed the card in his pocket, and grabbed the unicorn by the back of its head, putting the nose to her cheek and pretending it was giving her kisses. “Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Mhmm,” she hummed, pulling strands of his curls around her fingers while her cold nose was pressed to his throat. “Can Miss Mouse come over to play?”

“Not today. She’s busy with her own celebrations.”

It was weird how calmly he could answer her. No twisted tongue sitting in his mouth like lead, no tensed stomach from an assault of nerves, no racing thoughts of you and Adrie becoming too close before he was ready to disappoint her. The fear was still there, of course. But he didn’t dread it. He held his daughter tucked against his body, and whispered into the unruly hair she inherited, “But she will soon, okay?”

“Yay!” She showed her excitement by constricting her arms around him in a perfect vice.

He wedged the unicorn between them and scooped her onto his hip. “What say you, Princess Adrienne? Shall we go in for a bit of Christmas morning casserole, and partake in reindeer games after getting you into your winter attire? Hmm?” She wasn’t responding. “Adrie?”

Her mouth was hung open, and her hand out, palm turned upward, making a grabby motion at something over his shoulder.

Eddie listened to her, and turned.

Snow fell, fell, fell from the low hanging clouds smudging the sky in shades of gray, bestowing the trailer park with fat flakes drifting beyond the safety of the porch, melting onto the dead grass and brushing past his car’s mirror. Pretty, pretty things of childlike magic Adrie caught on her fingertips. Special things floating to the edge of the wobbly floorboards, and sticking to his hair for her to laugh at.

“I love you,” he said in a kiss to her bitter cold cheek.

“Love you too, Daddy,” she replied in the same fashion, with an additional kiss from the unicorn to the tip of his nose.

Doors around the trailer park opened. Wide eyes of wonder gazed up, and around, searching for friends to celebrate with. Eddie felt exposed in his all black outfit against the growing landscape of white. They were looking at him. Judging him. Munson. But, unlike any other day, the desire to bolt from their intrusive stares dwindled with each graze of his thumb over the card in his pocket.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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strangegutz · 7 months ago

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Hey what’s up, it’s just about midnight, here’s some information on CompanDroids and Eddie under the cut.

HEADS UP! Some mature/NSFW subject matter

Broad scope:

-CompanDroids were manufactured by Ramirez Robotics 83 years ago.

-They were created to be companions and caretakers, making them strong, soft, reliable, and people pleasers.

-There is a model for each letter of the alphabet, 13 male models and 13 females, alternating. For example, Eddie is a model E, his female counterpart would be the model F. Each pair “matches”

-Each model is based on a different celebrity, from actors, to models, to TV show hosts. For example, Eddie’s face-sake was a Mexican heartthrob actor, Navarro Riviera, and model F was a Mexican Miss Universe contestant.

-There were different cosmetic changes available for a handful of models in the form of hair colors or styles, particularly for those based on actors, styled after their various roles.

-ComDro’s were available in “Standard” and “Deluxe,” Deluxe packages allowed for more functionality, like eating, drinking, smoking, and for a few select models, sex.

-The contracts for these celebrities were murky, and many didn’t realize the full scope of how the androids would function or be used.

-Ramirez Robotics went under 20 years after the release of the CompanDroids (63 years before current)

-CompanDroids are extremely rare, as they were already very expensive, and now vintage.

-CompanDroids, as they are now, are more or less integrated into society as independent people, and mostly seen as an unusual novelty, though the greater public tends to only remember more salacious details about their functionality.

-They remain one of the most high tech inventions of all time.

Looking in:

-ComDro’s have their power bank located at the top of their spine. They run on electricity, and need to charge themselves via a port located on the back of their neck. Eddie has had himself outfitted with a nuclear battery, and has spares.

-They can get drunk or high, internal sensors detect the chemical composition of various substances and adjust function accordingly.

-They have a simulated heartbeat in the form of a faint vibration in the chest.

-A diagnostic panel is located in the left forearm, which has a screen, small keyboard, a few ports, and their serial number.

-The visible seam lines on their bodies are cosmetic, there are many more seams for access that are flush and hard to see.

-Standard models can upgrade to Deluxe models with a kit.

-Certain “involuntary” bodily functions, like becoming intoxicated, sweating, blushing, or arousal, can be manually controlled, or turned off all together by the android themself.

Eddie himself:

-Eddie was a pre-order, specifically picked to look like Navarro Riviera’s character, Sheriff DeLeon, in a romantic drama western.

-Eddie was originally a standard CompanDroid, but worked for and paid for his own upgrade kit as a free bot.

-Eddie’s serial number is E-013, he named himself after how his number would have read as a deluxe edition, ED-013

-He painted his eyes black the night he was “let go,” but didn’t swap to LED light eyes until later

-CompanDroids have feeling in their internal mechanics, Eddie finds the sensation pleasurable and erotic, though is very selective about who can touch his internals in any context.

-To avoid any uncomfortable situations, he toggles his “arousal” routines off during repairs or maintenance, but prefers to feel all sensations naturally otherwise.

-Being an old computer, Eddie is a bit “off” in the software, he is twitchy and violent, but is loyal and can be a great caregiver and people pleaser to his friends.

-Eddie’s CPU being overloaded will cause his voice to hitch and stutter like a computer’s audio would, as well as his eye LEDs flickering slightly. This would happen in an extreme stress situation, downloading large files of information, but most often when he climaxes in bed.

-Eddie has a very skewed sense of age, as he doesn’t age at all. He tends to always think of people having the same age and capabilities as when he met them, like continuing to see Zeki as a naive 23 year old.

I did not include every single one of my thoughts here but this is good enough for now I think! And if you have any explicit questions take them over to @strangeorganz !

#heartbreak gulch #eddie ramirez #eddie black eyes #strangetext

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sirfrogsworth · 1 year ago

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The reviews of the Cybertruck are starting to post today.

I think a lot of people want it to be extra terrible. And, like, everything that was clearly Elon's input is actually terrible. But the Tesla engineers tried really hard to put a quality, functional, electric truck inside of Elon's stupidity.

And I kind of feel bad for them.

It really seems like they did a good job considering the circumstances. But they were forced to put all of their engineering brilliance in a vehicle that looks like it was in the Super Nintendo version of Starfox.

Aside from the low polygon count, I think the most offensive thing about the Cybertruck is the official logo—which is plastered all over the truck.

Yikes.

The most concerning things about the truck that I could see are visibility issues. You can't see directly in front of you, which is actually a problem with a lot of oversized trucks in the US. And there is no visibility out the back either. There is a sliver of a window if you don't have the truck bed covered. There are rearview cameras, which are arguably better than craning your neck around, but screens and cameras can break or malfunction.

I'm also worried about the crumple zones. I just don't see how that is supposed to work with all the stainless steel panels. Crumple zones are probably one of the greatest car safety innovations along with seatbelts and airbags. Hopefully they found a way to make it work, but this car could be dangerous for the people driving it and the people this monstrosity collides into.

Also, don't ever dent or damage this truck. I have to imagine replacing bespoke stainless steel body panels that require special presses to manufacture is probably going to cost an exorbitant amount.

It's ugly and stupid and way more expensive than it needs to be and underneath... a decent electric truck.

And that is a shame.

An affordable EV truck which could be used by normal folks and not just Elon stans would have been a good thing. I don't think electric vehicles will save the planet. We should be building trains and more trains and then buses where the trains can't go. But that isn't happening, so transitioning to EVs is still *something.* Especially if they can be charged with alternative energy. If you are in an area with a coal plant and you charge your vehicle, the only benefit is not adding exhaust pollution to the area the vehicle drives. Which, again, is not nothing, but also not nearly enough.

The only good I can see in the Cybertruck is that some of the innovative engineering will trickle down into more affordable vehicles that normal people can buy and use. But that will take time. And they could have probably just made a simple, normal truck that costs half as much and sped that process up. Which is part of the reason it is clear Elon is not interested in saving the planet. He just wants his whims attended to.

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malcolm-reeds-pineapple · 7 months ago

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Recently my brother and I drove five hours to go watch the eclipse with our dad. Due to time, we had to go on a day where it was raining and we also had to take my brother’s POS car rather then my less POS car because I took the insurance off mine while I’ve been unemployed. Anyway, a few notes about my brother’s car:

We only have third about 75% of the time

Windows (for the most part) can only be rolled down by the driver because the electrical is kind of fried and the child lock engages and disengages randomly.

His radio worked for about 3 months after he got it and then it randomly shit the bed so he uses USB computer speakers because (amazingly) the USB port still provides enough power to run them (knock on wood)

A squirrel pissed in his air filter a few months ago and due to scummy manufacturing practices, changing the air filter requires taking off the entire dashboard with a proprietary drill head. So, naturally, we have not changed that air filter.

We have a cache of Mary Brown’s honey dill sauce tucked away for occasions in front of the display screen that used to say it was January first, 2012 no matter how you set it, but now due to electrical issues, it now eternally says that the passenger door is open.

So already off to a great start. However, as we closed in on our destination, about four hours in, blasting weird Quebecois folk music on our USB computer speakers, the driver side wiper flew off and into the middle of a four lane highway. At this point, it wasn’t raining too much, and the next spot that could possibly have a wiper was literally our destination, so we had to press on. We figured the rain was dying down, so all would be fine.

All was not fine. Gradually, the rain really started coming down and I began to plan how we would Not Die. I grew up watching a lot of both Top Gear and RedGreen, so I have a very creative approach to car trouble. When we eventually had to pull over to avoid vehicular death, I gave my brother my plan.

The plan was to move the dinky passenger wiper to the driver side and then to avoid the horrible metal on glass noises when we used the wiper, we would tie fabric onto the passenger wiper arm. He agreed to the plan and we got out to execute the plan. Thankfully, I pack for a weekend trip like I’m going to shit myself twice a day, so I pulled out two pairs of underwear that I wouldn’t miss if the plan failed. Then, we used the drawstring from a pair of sweatpants to tie the underwear around the wiper arm. On a side note, the only thing we had to cut the drawstring with was a small chainsaw we were taking to my dad’s to clean up a couple trees.

Anyway, allow me to introduce to you……………… The Panty Swiper

#captain’s log #this is probably the funniest thing to ever happen to us #we showed up to our dad’s house and he was so proud #we’re the Malcolm in the Middle breed of white #so dad was like you kids are JUST like me fr #dad’s the reason I’ve literally never paid for a chair in my life #the random chair distribution (spring/fall clean up garbage day) dictates that if you just wait a chair will find you #I found my dresser in the trash man I just chucked that bitch in the back of my Toyota matrix and headed home

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carevelmedicalsystems · 1 year ago

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goswamihospitech · 3 months ago

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#examination couch supplier #examination table manufacturer #gynae examination table manufacturer #ICU bed manufacturer in india #icu bed suppliers Indore #Five Function ICU Bed #five function electric icu bed #Electric ICU Bed

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summercourtship · 1 year ago

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stay to burn (only to drown instead): chapter five: sanity in the honeymoon phase [part II]

masterpost | ao3 link

jonathan crane x reader; bruce wayne x reader; edward nashton x reader | warnings: canon typical violence, sexual content | word count: 4937 words

DISCLAIMER: these chapters are not meant to be read alone. not every chapter has content for one of the three pairings listed. this is an ongoing fanfiction that I am cross-posting here on tumblr, not a series of one-shots.

chapter one | previous part

You woke up the next morning, somehow with Jonathan still beside you sleeping soundly, a newfound clarity in your thoughts. Like your mind had organized all of your thoughts while you slept and in doing so created a plan.

Snatching a T-shirt off the floor, you pulled it on as you left your bed. You gently opened the door, glancing backwards to make sure you hadn’t bothered him. But before you left, you grabbed your bookbag, needing something from inside it but not wanting to rummage through it with Jonathan still asleep.

The apartment was cold, the chill morning air seeping in through the cracks between your door and the floor, from in between window panes. Throwing a glare at the apparently useless radiator in the corner, you grabbed a worn cardigan off of your couch. You slipped it over your still tired limbs before sitting at your kitchen-catch-all table, moving the empty take out bag to the other side. You’d throw it out later.

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pen and notepad- the notepad, the one you’d had glued to your hand all through the Riddler’s crime spree last year. Flipping to a blank page in the notepad, you wrote at the top of the page, in all capital letters, EVERYTHING I KNOW ABOUT THE SCARECROW.

Skipping down a line you began scribbling some bullet points of what you knew about the criminal. It wasn’t much yet, but you were confident in your ability to find more information. For fun, of course. Targets Pharmaceuticals and chemical manufacturers- drugs? Out of public eye- motives unknown-- FIND OUT SOMEHOW?? Burlap scarecrow mask-- why?? What symbolism? Fear?

As you sat, staring at your minuscule list, trying to think of anything else that was applicable, the bedroom door opened again. Jonathan crept out, pausing when he saw you at the table. You wondered what he thought you’d be doing when he left the bed.

“What are you doing?” His voice was husky from his sleep, the lowered timbre of his voice sending a bolt of electricity over your skin. He moved closer, peering over your shoulder. You didn’t bother covering up your notepad.

“Just writing.” You slowly looked back over your shoulder at him, smiling softly before turning back to your work. “Things I need to get out of my head.”

“About the Scarecrow?” He cleared his throat quietly.

“Mmhmm.”

You didn’t know where this research- because that’s what you intended for this to become- would go. At the worst, you’d chalk it up as personal practice, a pet project. It would sit gathering dust in a folder, tucked away in a drawer like your other abandoned project.

You didn’t even allow yourself to consider what the research would be at best. It was barely an idea, anyway, dreamt up by your unconscious mind. Something to keep your mind occupied when you weren’t trying to finish your schoolwork.

“And this doesn’t have anything to do with what you were talking about last night?”

“I’m not becoming a vigilante if that’s what you’re asking me.” Cringing inwardly, you sighed. “I have no dreams about heroism, personally. You could say I’m just engaging in current events.”

Investigating. That’s the word for what you wanted to do.

“You should be careful where you stick your nose.”

An involuntary chill ran down your spine at his warning. He’s just looking out for you, you thought. But still, you shrugged the chill away, putting your pen down and slipping off the chair. You fitted yourself between Jonathan and the table where he had left just enough space for your body.

You could worry about the Scarecrow finding out about your investigation when it was more than words in a notepad. At that moment, you were more interested in Jonathan.

“And why is that?”

He was toying with a loose string on your cardigan, again throwing you that wry smile before he responded.

“Curiosity killed the cat.” You smiled back at his use of the tired cliche.

“But satisfaction brought it back.”

The kiss started gentle this time, a delicate joining of your mouths. But Jonathan soon leaned against you, his open mouth coaxing your own wider as he pressed you backwards. You threw a hand backwards, grabbing for purchase against the table and landing on your notebook. Involuntarily you clench your hand, crumbling your notes about the Scarecrow in your desperation to steady yourself against Jonathan.

Your hand traveled down his body, brushing over his slowly hardening length in his pants. He groaned against your mouth as you rubbed the heel of your hand against him, smiling into the kiss until he grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand away, holding it by your side.

“If I didn’t have somewhere to be, I’d fuck you on this table, right now.” He muttered in your ear, his voice low and grinding.

“Then don’t go.”

“I have to.” With what seems to be incredible self-control, he pulls away from you. His eyes are dark, pupils blown. He was still as hungry as he had been last night.

If you were more confident in your abilities to seduce a man, even one that was two inches away from taking you on your kitchen table, you would’ve pouted. Made yourself irresistible so that he wouldn’t leave you, aroused and waited. But you still had an inkling of insecurity that kept you from pulling that trick out of the bag, so you let him step away from you with a sigh.

“When can we see-”

“I’ll be out of town this weekend, and have a pretty busy next week. But the week after is spring break so we can do something then.”

“Alright.” You did your best to hide your disappointment.

“Are you going to be okay, today?”

“I still have a class today, you know.” You sighed, thinking about the cipher assignment you still needed to complete for your intelligence history class. “I’ll be fine. I’m beginning to think I didn’t even see anything last night. Maybe I just… imagined it. I was really tired from the library so it makes sense.”

A brief moment of confusion flickered across his face before it disappeared behind his composed mask again.

“Hallucinations aren’t good, either.”

You don’t tell him that it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d seen someone who wasn’t there, that day of the mayor’s remembrance ceremony flashing in your mind. But even though you’d said you imagined seeing the Scarecrow, you didn’t actually think it. You just didn’t want Jonathan to worry about you. It had been an impulsive lie, born from guilt at seeing his face mired with concern.

“I’m all good, trust me.” You looked down at your hand, the notes crumpled on the table before slowly turning back to him. “If you don’t want me to look into the Scarecrow, I won’t.”

Again, you were lying. You fully intended on gathering as much information on the Scarecrow as you could before he was caught, essentially heading up your own personal investigation into Gotham’s newest masked weirdo.

You’re sure that he didn’t quite believe this lie either but he didn’t call you out on it. You were only lying to get him to stop worrying about you, to stop thinking that you were intending on going out and hunting the criminal down.

Of course you weren’t going to. For one, as far as you or anyone else knew, he’d just committed a few robberies and frightened a few citizens (yourself included). For another, you weren’t exactly the type of person who could survive hunting someone else down.

You would leave that to Batman.

The week leading up to spring break was busy, though not because of work or even the few midterms you had to take or essays you had to turn in.

“Just this, thanks.” You placed the new, fresh notepad on the office supply store’s counter, watching as the teenage girl working the cash register popped her gum and lazily rang it up.

You’d bought a notepad for the Riddler. It only made sense to give yourself a fresh start for the Scarecrow. Because even though your initial notetaking session had been interrupted, you had the strangest desire to figure out the Scarecrow before everyone else.

But you weren’t planning on doing anything reckless. Nothing at all like what Jonathan had said that night. It was just research, after all. You had no dreams of heroism, no desire to become a vigilante or even do anything with the information you’d find. You were just going to write down some headlines, scour Gotham social media, keep an eye out for anything weird. Nothing that required you from leaving the safety of your home.

You would be smarter, this time.

You’re sure of it.

But maybe you were just kidding yourself.

If you had gone to college in a small town with a population of 80% college students, you probably would’ve noticed the absence of people during spring break. The streets would be practically empty, the stores like ghost towns.

But in a city of Gotham’s size, three-quarters of the student body leaving for tropical destinations or to return to a safer home for the week did nothing to relieve the claustrophobic population. Crowds still swelled the streets, the constant honking and screeching of cars still reached you from stories above it all.

Not like you would have really noticed, laying on top of Jonathan’s lithe body, breathing in his scent for the third day in a row, tracing random patterns on his chest. The first few days of your spring break had been bliss, tangling your limbs with his, mixing your breaths together for hours on end.

You both had other things to be doing. Yet the idea of separating from one another was blasphemous. And, as you had quickly learned, Jonathan would not stop until he was completely satisfied, though his desire was apparently insatiable.

Eventually, you would have to free yourself from his hold, escape from his bedroom back into the real world. You had school work to do, shifts down at the store to attend. But they were so easy to forget when his mouth traced open kisses along your body, when he was able to set your body alight with a flame you hadn’t known existed inside of you.

Slowly, you sat up, running a hand over your hair. You could feel Jonathan’s eyes on you but he made no moves, simply content to watch you.

Pulling the comforter back, you placed your feet on the cool floor, not bothering to grab a blanket as you left the bedroom. Jonathan didn’t follow or call after you.

You grabbed your work bag- which was what you had intended on working on when you’d come over to his apartment three days ago but had been quickly distracted by Jonathan’s fingers and tongue. And you had stayed distracted, too enraptured by his attention to focus on anything else.

Instead of sitting at his table to get your work done, you walked back into the bedroom and settled on the bed with your papers. You could feel him watching you as you pulled out the first paper and a red pen, beginning to grade.

You remained like that for a few minutes before you heard him moving around behind you. He pressed a kiss to the nape of your neck, and you could sense the smile he pressed against your skin, the curve of his lips stinging until he pulled away. He rested his head on your shoulder, looking down at the work you were doing. The work he could, technically, be helping you with.

“I am trying-” You threw a glance back at him, unable to stop the smile that crept onto your face, “to grade the assignment that you had due the class before break!”

He hummed, seemingly nonchalant, but you knew that he would be disappointed if you slacked off. Even if the reason was his own warmth beckoning to you from behind, a constant temptation to drag you away from the work you had to get done.

“I’ll take you down to Arkham tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question and it was barely a suggestion. There were no if that’s cool with you-s from him.

You put your red pen down, turning to look at him fully, your eyes roaming around his face.

“Are you sure?” It was redundant. If he was uncertain, if he was ever uncertain about anything, he wouldn’t bother telling you he was doing it. If you knew nothing else about him, it was that he was not the type to act when he was unsure.

He nodded, slow, his eyes dragging down your own face to your lips. You knew what the look on his face meant but you still put a hand on his shoulder to keep him at bay.

“I need to finish grading this.”

“It’s Tuesday, you have time.” It was a whisper against your lips, his hands moving to pull you closer to him from the waist.

“Hmm. I’m going to an asylum tomorrow, so I’m not sure if I’ll be available to work on it in the future.” But as you said it, you moved to straddle his thighs, linking your arms around his shoulders. You figured if you joked about heading down to Arkham, you’d forget to be nervous when it came down to it in the morning.

“Well, I know one of the doctors who works there. Maybe he can help you out.” Smiling at his response, you grinded down against his cock, which was quickly becoming hard from your sudden bout of attention.

You leaned backwards, grabbing your work and tossing it off of the bed, not caring when the papers scattered around his room.

“Oh, I’m sure he can.”

It was funny, you think, that the sky should decide to be bright and beautiful on the day you were visiting the darkest building of Gotham City. The waves crashed upon the rocks below as Jonathan’s car rolled through the main gates, gorgeous yet horrifying trees lining the drive to the main building. From your understanding, there were a few different buildings on Arkham's campus, including the old mansion and botanical garden. That was something the general public could come up and visit, situated far enough on the other side of the island that there was enough space to separate it from the asylum.

Staring out the window as the building slowly came into view through the trees, you fiddled with the visitor’s pass Jonathan had given you before you’d climbed in his car thirty minutes ago. Thankfully, it was labeled as RESTRICTED ACCESS, meaning he couldn’t take you into any questionable corners just for the sake of taking you there.

You should be flattered, you think. He wanted to show you his other workplace, let you see another side of his world.

But really, you were just nervous that this was going to somehow go completely wrong. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard of anything going right at the asylum, which was a dark blot on the city’s already dark canvas.

Arkham Asylum loomed over you like a giant, its gothic visage intimidating even in broad daylight. Maybe moreso, seeing that all the horrific elements of the asylum you saw in photographs weren’t due to nighttime shadows and rain. It was just what the buildings looked like, their entire presence spine-chilling. Worse when you considered who was locked up inside, perpetrators of some of Gotham’s worst crimes.

Finally, Jonathan pulled into his parking space, which was nestled behind the building.

You were torn between wanting to yank the seatbelt off of you, eager to get the visit over with, or to lock yourself inside so you didn’t have to leave the safety of the car. As you got out of the car, you looked over the roof to Jonathan.

“And you’re sure I’m allowed to just… visit? This isn’t just a trick to somehow admit me?”

Jonathan just hummed from your side, but you’re sure that your constant questions on the subject were becoming annoying. “I wouldn’t have brought you if it wasn’t allowed.” He began walking towards the door, briefly looking back at you. “And you’re not insane.”

“Thank you for the reassurance.” You responded dryly, fingers toying with the strap of your purse like someone would appear out of nowhere to snatch it from you.

You began the short walk across the wet parking lot, the smell of damp pavement and grass heavy in the air. Despite what you had expected, you heard nothing from inside the building. No screaming or shouting, no alarms or blaring announcements. It was absolutely silent, the only sound you could hear was birds chirping and waves hitting the lower rocks. And that was somehow worse than if you had heard everything that was going on inside the stone walls.

Jonathan pushed the door open, holding it aside as you stepped into the building before he followed you in, firmly closing the door behind you. It latched with finality and you took a deep breath, willing your nerves to calm down.

You were officially inside Arkham Asylum.

The entry room was small, a metal detector preceding the doorway into the next room, a guard sitting in a chair by a table with a radio that was playing a loop of guards calling in. Faintly, you could smell anti-bacterial spray underneath the overpowering scent of something sweet and floral from the air freshener on the table. A security camera was mounted in the corner, aimed directly at you. You looked at it for a moment before wrenching your vision away, allowing yourself to be escorted through the metal detector with little flourish.

“I’m not going to meet any of the inmates, right?” You whispered after grabbing your bag from the plastic box they’d put it in as you’d gone through the door.

“No.” He smiled wryly before he spoke again. “Not unless there’s a breakout just as we get in there.”

“Please don’t even joke about that.” It was a well known secret that Arkham was prone to the occasional bout of hemorrhaging its inmates but you really didn’t want to witness it first hand. It was nerve racking enough when you were in the city and got the alert on your phone, you didn’t fancy being stuck on the island while an escape was happening.

“I’ll just take you to my office, show you around the visiting areas… nothing that’s too restricted.”

“I would hope not, my visitor’s card isn’t good for that.”

“I’ve told you. People don’t say no to me.” He pushed open another door, this time leading you into a dimly lit hallway. “If I wanted to take you somewhere, I would find a way.”

Jonathan’s tour of Arkham consisted of nothing more than walking through hallways and pointing out various points of interest. The door that led to the cells, the door that led to the rec rooms, the door that led to the intensive treatment wing, the door that led to the medical wing. Oh, look, a window that overlooked the exercise yard where there were a few orange and white clad inmates shuffling around, if they were moving at all. That’s a change in scenery.

“Why did you want to bring me here, anyway?” You asked as you walked down another hall that was identical to every other one you’d been brought down. Most of the hallways were lined with dated tile, bars over any windows and cracks in the flooring. Lights were yellowed and flickering, dust and dirt gathered in the corners. His only response was a non-committal noise from the back of his throat. He was saved from further questioning when he stopped by an archway that led into a small room with an empty desk and two doors leading off of it. He brought you to one of them, a non obtrusive wooden door. His name was on the plaque that was attached to the door, followed by his credentials.

Pulling out his keys, he unlocked the door, revealing his office.

His office in Arkham was pretty similar to his office in the university, a dark wood desk sitting in between two large windows overlooking the asylum grounds and, in the distance, Gotham’s skyline.

“I have another one, in the basement. For obvious reasons, I will not be taking you down there.”

You looked at him from where you’d been observing a framed painting on the opposite side of the room from him.

“Why do you need two offices?”

“It’s a large asylum. Sometimes it's easier to keep patient’s records closer to where they’re kept in the building than here. And this office is better for visitors. The other one doesn’t have windows, which makes it well suited for sessions with the inmates.”

“Why-” But he quickly moved on, not letting you ask what he meant by his comment. From what you’d heard, direct sunlight was good for those struggling with their mental health, was it not? But, then again, you weren’t the one with a doctorate. You didn’t even have your bachelor’s, what do you know?

“The windows are nice, aren’t they?” You moved across the office to look out the windows, which were covered by half opened blinds which filtered the light into small lines across the room. His office, it seemed, overlooked the river, offering a decent view of the city. You knew that he was just pointing them out because he wanted to distract you from the question you’d wanted to ask. But you indulged him anyway.

“The view is good.” You moved away from the window but instead stepped right into Jonathan, who had moved to stand directly behind you. You adjusted your position slightly, allowing yourself to lean backwards into Jonathan’s body.

Then his hands were on your hips, brushing over the modest shirt you were wearing. For a brief moment, you regret wearing it, wishing you had instead worn something else, something more revealing or tantalizing. Then you remembered that you’d picked it out in the morning, knowing you were being smart by covering yourself up for the day’s visit. It wasn’t a club. It was a hospital.

With this in mind, you stepped away from him. Don’t fuck in his office, you reminded yourself. And when you turned and saw the familiar hungry look in Jonathan’s eyes that you’d been trying to sate for the past week, you simply ignored it. You knew that if he really wanted to bend you over and take you there, he would do it. But it looked like he also knew it wasn’t smart to try anything, because he simply took a deep breath and turned, leading you outside of his office again.

But instead of continuing back into the hallway, he stopped in the small room that connected Jonathan’s and another’s office to the hall. The desk that you’d noticed earlier was the only real furnishing in the room, but there was a dead plant in the corner. Nothing much to look at.

“Here is what I really wanted you to see.”

You craned your neck around his body, trying to see what he was looking at. You certainly couldn’t see it from where you were standing. But even when you looked around him, there was nothing else in the room. You looked at him, meeting his eyes before he pointedly looked at the desk.

The empty desk that was pushed against a wall. Its surface was covered in illegible etchings and it had clearly seen better days, the metal legs splotched with rust and the wood discolored.

You stared at it for a moment before looking back up at him, not getting the joke. But he was already looking at you and your breath stuttered before you caught it again, swallowing the sudden lump of nervousness that had sprung up in your throat.

“You brought me here to look at a desk?”

“The asylum has recently decided that I needed, or deserved, a… secretary. Receptionist. Assistant. Whatever you want to call it.” He prattled off the different names for the same job. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant by telling you this but you needed him to ask you.

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Don’t be stupid.” He admonished, so quickly after you’d finished speaking that for a moment you thought you imagined it. Heat blossomed in your cheeks and you’re not sure if your reaction was entirely because you were embarrassed at being chided like a child. “You’ve proven yourself a good assistant. You hate your current job. Come work with me here.”

You pursed your lips, a litany of questions springing up in your mind at his suggestion. Some completely rational questions, like what is the pay and what exactly would my duties be, and some a bit less rational.

“Would you be my boss, then?”

“Of sorts but not quite.” He leaned against the desk, which groaned slightly from just the light amount of pressure he was putting on it. If you accepted the job, you decided, you would need a different desk than the one in front of you. “Your superior, of course.”

How many different power dynamics did Jonathan want the two of you to be arranged in? You were almost tempted to ask if he wanted to also be your psychiatrist, just to get that one off the table as well.

“Does this count as an interview?”

“This is a job offer.”

“I’d at least want to finish the semester before starting up here.”

“That’s-” He put his hand on the small of your back, leading you back into the hallway and away from his office and your potential desk, “-fine.”

He began to lead you back through the maze of hallways he had taken you down when you’d arrived, clearly signaling that the tour was over.

“Is there anything else you’re interested in seeing?”

“I don’t think so.” You smiled, wanting him to see that you appreciated him taking the effort to show you around the asylum, that you weren’t just trying to get out of here as quickly as possible. You were still confused as to why he had brought you into the asylum to offer the job instead of doing it over dinner like any normal person would.

But, you thought, if you accept the job offer, you’d be coming up here all the time. So maybe it was to get a brief feel for the asylum before you accepted or denied him?

“Not unless you can show me the records room.” You laughed to show that you were joking, that you knew that no civilian would ever be allowed anywhere near the records of Arkham. Not to protect the patients, of course, but rather to protect the asylum and any of its secrets.

If you accept the job, you might get to go down there one day…

He pushed open the doors, leading you into the next hallway. He wasn’t speaking now, obviously content to take you out of the building and back home- he’d done what he came for. But maybe, you think while trying not to linger on the thought, instead of taking you back to your place, you’d go back to his apartment and you’d spend the rest of the day under his worship.

In the hallway next to the one you were walking down, separated from yours with a half-wall and row of windows, a line of inmates were being escorted in the opposite direction.

Don’t look, your mind whispered. But like there was something else you couldn’t quite hear beckoning you, you slowly turned your head just as an inmate on the other side of the glass raised his.

A startled gasp broke away from you, your eyes now locked on the very real figure of the man who had occupied your thoughts for the past year and a half. But where you would have expected to fall into your usual symptoms of anxiety upon seeing him, you almost felt disappointed. Like you were walking past an exhibit at a museum, realizing that the thing you had built up so much in your head was really, horribly… mundane. The man you had been so afraid of, had nightmares about, was just a man. A round-faced, almost boyish looking man, hair limp and lifeless, his clear glasses cracked on the left pane. But behind the glasses, his eyes were bright and intelligent, narrowed slightly at you as he examined you much like you were observing him.

Your foot moves, stuttering against the linoleum floor briefly, like it wanted you to step closer to the glass, to get a closer look at Edward Nashton.

It wasn’t until Jonathan called your name, clearly not seeing what had happened, that you tore your eyes away from the inmate’s and practically ran down the hallway, your visitor card swinging on your neck. Your heart was racing, yes. Not because of seeing the Riddler in the flesh, but because the moment had felt… intimate and the idea of someone- Jonathan, especially- seeing it was somehow mortifying.

But if you had turned around at any point in your dash down the hallway, back to the safety that Jonathan’s proximity lent to you, you would’ve seen that he was still watching you, only turning when you were completely out of the hallway, the door swinging shut behind you.

#stbotdi #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #my writing #my fic #batman x reader

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