#uhhhh this is long and maybe no one cares

[gojorgeous]

"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!” 

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said. 

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind. 

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers. 

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.” 

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path. 

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back. 

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket. 

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.” 

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?” 

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t. 

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s. 

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?” 

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying. 

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong. 

~

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches. 

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment. 

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you. 

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike. 

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now. 

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him. 

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside. 

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it. 

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet. 

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face. 

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease. 

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo. 

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night. 

“Yeah. Long day at work.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?” 

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you. 

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there. 

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.” 

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?” 

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.” 

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life. 

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight. 

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder. 

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines. 

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs. 

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.” 

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool. 

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone. 

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride. 

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention. 

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish? 

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman. 

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself. 

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive. 

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?” 

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.” 

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps. 

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says. 

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet. 

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.” 

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?” 

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?” 

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like. 

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then… 

“So, what’s your technique” 

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual. 

“Bet I could find out.” 

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.” 

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…” 

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.” 

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks. 

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job… 

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.” 

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?” 

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth. 

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing. 

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?” 

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal. 

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.” 

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to. 

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit. 

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now. 

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone. 

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid. 

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines. 

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle. 

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans. 

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever. 

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles. 

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to. 

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs. 

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now. 

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please… 

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework. 

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly. 

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight. 

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it. 

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better. 

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?” 

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over. 

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.” 

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls. 

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.” 

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see. 

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs. 

Your lips part. “You knew?” 

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?” 

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him. 

But you have one thing on him. 

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.” 

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.” 

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.” 

You freeze. He notices. 

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?” 

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.” 

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo. 

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?” 

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced. 

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display. 

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin. 

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes. 

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?” 

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree. 

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…” 

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides. 

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone. 

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again. 

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.” 

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.” 

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased. 

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.” 

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.” 

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue. 

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right. 

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you. 

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault. 

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. 

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away. 

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?” 

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick. 

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole. 

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.” 

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages. 

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.” 

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut. 

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.” 

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.” 

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you. 

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth. 

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him. 

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.” 

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same. 

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant. 

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs. 

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind. 

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be. 

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you. 

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death. 

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest. 

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?” 

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.” 

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?” 

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe. 

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.” 

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?” 

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been. 

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free. 

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position. 

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind. 

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you. 

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.” 

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?” 

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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[nyarumie]

hii dropping by to say i love your works sm !! since you mentioned abt narumi requests, id like to make one :3

how aboutt narumi randomly feeling hungry during his game night and when he goes to find food he sees reader! so they end up making/getting food tgt all domestic and fluffy (if you’re cooking bro is definitely not thinking abt wifing u up uhhhh), feel free to create any setting you’d like for the scenario hihi

(also this might or might not be an excuse for me to ask u to become moots aha)

Food Impact! (Oneshot)

narumi gen x reader — pure fluff, more fluff, and even more fluff! sweet and gentle narumi, established relationship, the kitchen staff are eavesdropping on them, spoiler alert: they made a mess in the kitchen.

Author's Note: Readers, please search up the food name references I included here to get the entire picture of what they're trying to make <3

Author's Reply: hi, rye! I think we're already mutuals (at least, it's what my notif bar says? i know im already following u tho! i love your works too <3 it inspired me to write and post too, to be honest) thank you for this request i totally had fun writing it and helped me with my writer's block (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ id love to interact more too!

Cross-posted on ao3. Ask box is open, and masterlist can be found on my pinned. Have fun reading, everyone!

The sight that greeted Hasegawa has an unusual factor.

Stacked yamazon boxes, check.

Littered cans and bottles, check.

Neglected blankets and pillows, check.

An unbothered Captain on his futon playing his BS5, gone.

Or maybe he's just being dramatic. Narumi is actually there, albeit not stuck in front of his huge ass TV for once. Rather, he's shockingly seated behind his office table, adorning a serious expression while giving his laptop an intense focus.

His Vice Captain is rendered speechless. Was he seeing things? The First Division’s Captain… is actually doing work?

“Hasegawa. What is it? I’m busy here.” he said, hands busy on his laptop.

Oh, he's been staring at him for the past 5 minutes, mouth agape. Regaining his composure, he stated his business. “Your presence is requested for an interview. I believe I sent you the notice first thing in the morning.” But is it right to be disturbing him when he’s finally working—a rarer than once in a blue moon occasion?

“Requested, not required. Don't care, won't care.”

“...Then I’ll ask her to do it in your stead.”

“Don't. She's helping me with my work.”

Sighing, Hasegawa turned around to leave, surprisingly not picking Narumi up like a helpless cat to make him attend the interview.

Once Narumi heard the door click, the corner of his lips turned up, unable to stop the smug, triumphant grin from forming. “Hah, too easy! I’m busy working alright, my ass is practically burning from sitting here all day!”

In truth, the laptop Narumi specifically requested when he was promoted as Captain is a gaming laptop. He had somehow convinced the higher ups that its specifications are far greater than anything most officers can handle and is fitting for his position as Captain. Not that they know what it really is, of course.

He has been playing Jenshin Ympact the moment his office shift started. You had practically begged him yesterday to grind for you, saying that you’ll handle his paperworks worth a week’s job as long as he gets your desired character and weapon. “Why won’t she just top-up on this game? We have all the money to get every single character. What a bummer.”

Not that he understands why you’re willing to shoulder his paperworks over playing a game. Nothing’s enjoyable about paperworks at all! But you complained that your back was hurting from grinding, and who was he to reject such a good offer? That means a grumpy Hasegawa would appear less on his doorstep.

Complaints can be heard from him as he speedruns a side quest, mumbling about how the NPCs are too helpless. “What the… why do most NPCs ask for food here? What kind of adventurer doesn’t bring any food with them?”

Karma seemed to have hit him, his stomach growling too loud for his liking.

Ignoring it, he continued, still insulting every single unimportant character here and there. “Boo. Shut up. Don't like you. Go away. I hope you get eaten by a slime—”

And an even angrier sound came from his stomach.

“Fine! I’ll grab something to eat.”

What he meant by grab something to eat, is grab you to get the both of you something to eat. He refuses to eat anything without you, finding it more enjoyable doing mundane things with you around. His stomach has been empty since morning, wanting to get an early start on his grind.

He sulkily made his way towards your own room, knowing that you've been just as cooped up as him in your respective offices.

Not bothering to knock, he calmly opened the door, instantly finding you still working on his paperworks, desk situated across your door.

His familiar presence caught your attention, eyes lighting up in joy at the sight of him. “Gen! What brings you here? Do you need anything?”

Without a word, he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you up, making you drop your pen in the process.

Confused, you tried calling him again. “Gen?”

“Mhm… heard you. Just come with me.”

“Alright.” You smiled, his uncharacteristically calm demeanor endearing you. He was often like this with you, as if your very existence is his source of peace.

A comfortable silence lingered as you let him lead you to his your destination. Halfway there, you finally recognized the route to the cafeteria.

‘Oh, he's just hungry.’ you thought. ‘But wouldn't he prefer instant meals or deliveries instead of going all the way here?’

But instead of going straight to the self-service counter, he turned and made his way to the kitchen instead. Wait, are you even allowed there? Sure, he's the Captain, but he's not a cook!

He finally let go of your wrist, unceremoniously opening the large door, earning shocked stares from the kitchen staff and making them pause their job.

You pulled at his sleeve. “Gen—”

“Is there an available cooking station here?” he asked.

The staff looked at each other, obviously baffled. “Uhm, Captain Narumi, sir; there is. But it's at the far end of the Kitchen…” a cook said, pointing towards the station.

“Good. We’ll be using it undisturbed.”

Gen continued making his way forward, with you holding the cuff of his sleeve to ease your nerves. You offered an apologetic look at every person you made eye contact with as you both made your way through. He still hasn't said anything as to why you're here of all places, confusing you further.

He came to an abrupt stop once you reached ‘your’ station. It's time to get to the bottom of this.

“Gen, did you say we'll be using this cooking station? Are we actually cooking?”

He faced you, his arms crossing. Suddenly, he looked a bit bashful. “Yeah. That's what I said.”

Raising your brow, you tried prying more information from him. “And what exactly are we gonna cook?”

“Ahem. So I saw this food while playing Jenshin Ympact…” He pulled out his phone, showing you a screenshot of the food.

Invigorating Kitty Meal.

Giggles threatened to spill from your lips. No wonder he wants to make it yourselves.

He swiped the photo to another screenshot. “And there's this other one. You love mushrooms, I thought you'd want something simple to eat.” Milky Mushroom Crisp Tower. How cute, he was also thinking of you!

“They look pretty fun and easy to make. However… Both of us don't know how to cook, Gen.” you frowned.

“But you just said it looks easy to make. There's two of us, that should be good enough, yeah?” he pouted.

Fondly, you sighed. He’s being too adorable right now, you just can't say no to him. “Alright, we’ll try. If it turns out good, you’ll marry me, won't you?” you joked.

He brightened up at this, pushing his hair back, determined to make his kitty meal. “Consider it done.”

After thoroughly examining the screenshots, you personally approached a few people stationed in the kitchen, asking them which ingredients would best suit your planned meal. With a couple of pieces of advice here and there, you and Gen started to put the plan in motion.

He passes you a rather large bowl full of rice, busying yourself with shaping it to form a cat, filling its inside with mayo tuna. He tasked himself with (trying) to cook the steak while watching the eggs boil, which you doubted at first, earning you a complain from him (‘Hey! You're on the same boat as I am; can't cook, can't question!’)

Cooking the steak is quite the task, so you decided to handle your mushroom toast yourself.

You poorly sliced up the mushroom and tossed it in a small pot filled with a cup of thick cream and easily melted cheese. Not hard at all!

You leave it be and checked on Gen, who you find struggling with not burning the steak. “Need help?”

“I’m fine! It's just that this is totally not beginner friendly, that's all!”

“...Gen, the eggs are overcooked.” A series of curses left his mouth as he hurriedly took them off the boiling water, and his nose scrunched up on the smell of something burning.

“Your mushroom! The heat is turned all the way up!” Now it was your turn to panic.

After a couple of errors from both your ends, it was safe to say that you've finally reached the final task of your newly found skill.

You were carefully carving some seaweed, cheese, and ham as the final touches to his rice kitty’s facial features. Gen was standing behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he watched your art, humming to himself. He seemed pleased despite the mess you both made.

“Let's cook again someday.” he said.

You snort, “Speaking too soon? You won't say that if this turns out bad.”

“Nahh. Not if I’ll marry you.”

You laugh, taking it as a joke. You feel him perch his head on your shoulder, face turning into a frown. “I wasn't joking! Here, have this.”

He took your hand, putting a seaweed ring on your finger. You giggled again, your heart can't take him sometimes. “I didn't mean to laugh at you. You're being too adorable today! Let's eat these right here before they spoil.”

He looked too sad to see the kitty get devoured, sulking despite how good it surprisingly tasted. And yours wasn't too bad either, glad that you were able to salvage whatever was left from the burnt mushroom sauce.

“ ‘M definitely gonna marry you someday.” he suddenly said.

Your head whipped towards him so fast, only to find him munching on his meal, face serious. “Food so good it got you saying that again?”

He shook his head. “Don't you want me as your husband?” he whined.

You felt your face flush, suddenly aware that he meant what he said. “Go put on a real ring on me first. Then I'll take you as my husband.” you teased.

Looking thoughtful, he hummed. “I can wait just fine. It arrives tomorrow.”

Wait. What?

“What arrives… tomorrow?”

“The ring.” he said, matter-of-factly.

You faced him fully, mouth wide open. He’s dropping this information way too casually!

Sensing your stare, he also turned to look at you, food still in hand. “What? If you're worried about the size, I got it covered.”

“You're crazy. When did you purchase it?”

“Hmm… a couple of weeks ago. When I heard you scolding Hasegawa for disturbing me, saying I needed rest for carrying No. 1’s eyes on a daily basis. No one dares to scold him like that! So I decided to promote you as my wife!” he proudly said.

You tug at the front of his clothes, pulling him closer. “I want to kiss you right now.”

He set his food down, placing his hands on your waist. His eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth. “Then, as the Captain of the First Division, I grant you special permission to kiss me.”

And with that, you closed the distance between you, feeling the both of you smile in your kiss.

Bonus:

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the kitchen staff were eavesdropping the entire time. Who would’ve thought that this is how good their Captain's romantic life is?

You two were so absorbed in your own little bubble, failing to notice the suppressed squeal from a staff that was tasked to spy on you when you kissed. Seems like you forgot there were other people around you.

The staff went back to the others, meeting their expectant gazes. Wordlessly, they gestured their ring finger and acted out a kiss. It was comical, but the message was well-received nonetheless. It became an unspoken rule to keep what happened that night amongst themselves, wanting to respect your and the Captain's joyous moment.

[gravehags]

how to adopt and care for your ghouls

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x f!Reader (Curator Reader)

Rating: EXPLICIT

Words: 1,966

Tags: established relationship, hijinks, fade to black (mostly) smut, ghouls doing ghoul shit, ghouls imprinting on reader like a bunch of feral kittens, copia going through it, hint at potential future uhhhh ghoulette/reader action maybe?

a/n: this is so stupid i'm obsessed with it

~~~

“That’s all the new ghouls settled in the den, then,” you announce, tired but accomplished. You shut the door with your hip and toe off your shoes before launching yourself into the arms of your beloved who is currently seated on the couch.

“Oof! Bene, bene, thank you for taking this on, amore. You know I could have had a sibling do this, si?”

“Yeah,” you say, wiggling your way under the blanket and looking at the TV, currently on mute and playing some reality show, “I suppose but I don’t know, this is a huge step you’re taking and I wanted to support you in any way I can. Almost like I love and cherish you and want your success, as wild as that may sound.”

“You…love me?!” he scoffs, reaching to the side and hauling you on top of him as you squeal inelegantly, “I see why you might. I am very handsome, and smart, and successful, and did you know I have a band, bella signorina?”

“No!” you gasp, “A band? You? You never mentioned that to me, not even once, not even a little bit. I just thought you were some hot weird priest and well, I have hierophilia, so naturally–”

He shuts you up by firmly pressing his lips against yours, both of you giggling in between kisses. When you pull away and push yourself off the couch, backing up towards the bedroom he follows, stalking you with a sinister grin.

“Hierophilia, eh?” he purrs as you bump into the doorway and lean against it, “Does this agnellino require penance for her sins?”

You take your lower lip between your teeth and smile.

“Your Eminence, I’ve never seen you without your cassock before,” you murmur, eyes raking over his t-shirt, the red sweatpants, and the lovely, familiar tent in them that has your mouth watering, “It makes this so much easier.”

When you slowly lower yourself to your knees as he approaches, you hear him chuckle before sliding a bare hand into your hair.

“Go on then, ragazza mia,” he groans as you lower the waistband of his pants and take him out, “Show me how that–ah–pretty little mouth can atone.”

Your lips slide off the head only for a moment, your hand wrapped around him and stroking lazily.

“Thank you, Your Eminence.”

By the time the two of you crawl to bed, you’re both ruined and exhausted and entirely satisfied.

–

“Cazzo!”

You hear the curse loud and clear through the door to the rehearsal room and wince, your hand on the doorknob. The shouting continues as you cautiously open the door and eight heads swivel over to look at you. Your beloved looks exhausted and red faced, hair disheveled and midway through gesticulating wildly when he immediately drops his hands and his anger and scuttles over to you.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt,” you say, watching Copia attempt to push back the strands hanging in his face.

“No, no,” he waves, turning to cast his gaze behind him at the seated ghouls who still watch you intently. “I, eh. Amore can you–can you watch them for a moment? Five minutes, maybe ten? I need to uh…recompose myself. These fucking ghouls will not listen.”

The last part is hissed out as you cup his cheek, nodding.

“Go, take as long as you need.”

He turns his head to press a swift kiss to your palm before stalking out. A silence rings out as you turn to look at the infernal beings staring at you like raccoons caught in the garbage cans.

“Hey…guys,” you begin, slowly walking over to them. “I don’t know if you remember me but–”

“Of course we remember you,” the shorter ghoulette whispers, her tone reverent, “You’re the one who took care of us after we were brought here.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, surprised, “I-I mean I just made sure everyone got settled. You know, made sure everyone was comfortable. I don’t even think we know each other’s names.”

So you tell them yours.

And they tell you theirs.

And from there it’s a blur.

You don’t know who pulled you into a chair first - maybe Swiss? But all of a sudden you’ve got ghouls draped all over you, their tails wagging gleefully as they gaze at you with adoration.

“Are you the Cardinal’s mate?”

“Your eyes are so pretty.”

“Can you tell the Cardinal to stop calling us ‘piccoli stronzi’?”

“Are you single?”

You’re not sure who said what but that last question you definitely know is from Swiss by the way he grins at you and winks before being elbowed sharply in the ribs by Cirrus.

“Ok first,” you say, your heart full as Aether shifts to lay his head in your lap, “Tell me why Copia was shouting. What did you guys do?”

“Ugh,” Cirrus says, crossing her arms and canting her hips, “That. He’s pissed because he was trying to tell us how to do our jobs.”

“Well…” you say, “That’s kind of his job, isn’t it?”

“He’s no Papa,” Dewdrop huffs, slumping in his chair. You eye the scarring on the sides of his neck from his elemental transition and your heart hurts for him. Copia was deeply aggrieved about that particular ritual and though you weren’t present for it like you were for the summonings, hearing about it from him was enough to understand the brutality of it.

“He may not be Papa,” you begin carefully, “But he summoned you. Well, most of you. There is no Ghost project without him but also without any of you. You all have a symbiosis with him and…he just wants everything to go right. To be perfect. Surely you understand the stress on his shoulders to not fuck this up, yeah?”

Aether grunts from your lap.

“Wish you were the head of the Ghost project,” Rain murmurs, while towering Mountain nods in agreement. You laugh.

“None of you want to hear me sing, trust me,” you say, idly dragging your fingers through Aether’s hair as Cumulus and Cirrus watch with poorly concealed jealousy, “but my beloved has so much to give. I just ask that you give him a chance. For me.”

You don’t get a response as you hear the door shut behind you.

“Amore,” Copia says, looking a great deal more relaxed but wary as he beholds your captive audience, “This is an…interesting turn of events.”

When a disheveled Aether lifts his head off your lap and gives Copia a lazy grin, you have to bite your tongue to keep from laughing.

“She was giving us a pep talk,” Cumulus chirps, rocking back onto her heels, “Really motivational stuff.”

“Uh-huh,” Copia says, still cautious.

“Ok everyone,” Cirrus claps sharply, “Back to your instruments. We got an album to learn. Right, boss?”

The ghouls all look to Copia, but Copia is too busy looking at you to notice. You smile and shrug.

“I’ll uh…leave you all to it,” you say, standing up and walking over to your love to plant a soft kiss on his cheek, “See you later, hon. And…be sweet to them, hmm? For me?”

It’s the last time you hear Copia shout in that practice room.

–

You’re nice and cozy in bed, nestled against the pillows and watching stupid cat videos on your phone when there’s a soft knock at the door. At first you think maybe Copia forgot his keys but surely he would have texted you? You throw the covers back and slide off the mattress to pad over to the door. When you open it you expect to see your beloved, perhaps one of the papas, but instead there are…two ghouls.

“Hi,” the taller of the two says, trademark grin on his face. His companion stands silent, shoulders squared and arms behind his back.

“Hey Swiss, Dewdrop,” you say, smiling at them. “If you’re looking for Copia he’s–”

“We’re not,” Dewdrop says flatly, and his tone makes you laugh against your better judgment.

“Oh! Okay. Are…are you looking for me?”

Swiss nods eagerly.

“We uh,” he starts, rubbing his palms, “don’t feel good.”

Dewdrop shakes his head solemnly.

“Uh-huh,” you say, crossing your arms, “I mean, the infirmary will probably be able to help you better than I can but I’ll try my best. What’s up?”

“We can’t sleep,” Dew pipes up.

“Nope, not a wink,” Swiss confirms.

“I mean I’ve got some sleeping meds - can you guys take sleeping meds? Oh God, I don’t want to kill one of you I–”

“Can we stay with you?” Dew asks quietly.

You smirk.

“This your clever way of getting into my bed?”

Swiss coughs and Dew grins, teeth sharp.

“I mean, you said it, not us,” Swiss laughs, “but since you offered–”

You make a quiet noise of protest as the ghouls sidle into Copia’s living room, looking around. You shut the door, shaking your head.

“No funny business, my loves,” you coo, walking back to the bedroom with them on your heels. 

“Oh we wouldn’t do that to Cumulus and Cirrus. O-or the Cardinal.”

You spin on your heel.

“What was that about Cumulus and Cirrus?”

“Nothing,” they say in unison, faces unreadable.

You eye them both suspiciously before climbing back into your now cold bed, scooting to the middle.

“Well, come on,” you say, waving them over. Swiss climbs in on your right side and Dewdrop on your left, snuggling into you. You’re not sure if it’s just your imagination but you swear Dew is emanating warmth. It makes your eyelids heavy and you yawn so deeply your jaw cracks.

“Alright you two bozos, time for bed.”

“Thank you Lady Copia,” Dew says, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Christ, please don’t call me that,” you sigh, tilting your head to rest on Swiss’. As your companions drift off a steady purr begins to rumble between the two of them, lulling you to sleep.

“What the fuck?!”

Your eyes snap open and you choke on your gasp upon seeing a figure in the dark and a glowing white eye staring down at you. The light comes on not long after, and you blink up at your love.

“Hey, hon,” you say, your voice hoarse. “What’s wr–oh.”

The two ghouls are still in your bed, eyes shut. Swiss has his leg slung between yours and both have their arms wrapped around your waist. 

“At the risk of sounding like a cliche,” you murmur, yawning, “it’s not what it looks like.”

Copia glowers down at the three of you.

“Is that right?”

He’s being so very loud, your beloved.

“Shh bello mio, they’re sleeping.”

“In my fucking bed,” he hisses. You know he’s annoyed but you’re just glad he’s being quieter about it now. He throws his hands up and starts muttering in furious Italian. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell them to move. Guys,” you say, nudging them gently, “guys you gotta get up. Copia thinks we’re having a torrid affair.”

Neither of them stir but Swiss starts snoring loudly and you swear you hear a snicker from Dew.

Copia looks incensed.

“I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t even move let alone make them move.”

“Stronzi,” Copia growls, “get out of my bed and your hands off my love or I will send you back to the fucking pit.”

There’s definitely no mistaking Dew’s laughter this time and you have to bite your lip to muffle your own as you look up at your furious lover. He hovers over the three of you, fuming for a minute before turning on his heel and stomping off to the living room to fling himself onto the couch. As you fall back asleep, arousal stirs in your belly imagining the ways he’s going to make you pay. 

You hope it involves penance.

[zo3mess]

Too Bad At Goodbyes | Part 3 to Bitter-Sweet

Summary: Officers from other towns were reassigned to help the understaffed police force in Evergreen after the butterfly massacre. The good old game of cat and mouse begins with Vigilante continuing his shenanigans and one police officer determined to catch him. Except it is not entirely clear who is chasing whom.

Warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it, you know that all too well), handjob, oral (reader receiving), edging, tits worship, hint of sadism?, knife play (to some extent), handcuffs, theft of panties mentioned, enemies become lovers (Who would have thought), female reader, no Y/N

Minors do not interact

Word count: 6.4k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist of my works

Note: This is the final part, guys. I’m sorry it took so long to write, but my brain was completely dead after 2 seminar works I had to write last second. Long live the procrastination! Anyway, I hope you will like this and once again thank you for every interaction on any of my posts, I love you all <3

Day after day, week after week, you were slowly but surely realizing you might have overestimated your abilities. You believed you had the guts to catch villains like Joker or Mad Hatter, even your family and friends encouraged you. And you believed their words, you believed yourself. Leaving your town and heading to Evergreen as some sort of bridge to your goal. However this? This wasn’t what you thought it would be like.

Doing minor police work, failing miserably all the time, having a weird relationship with the one person who would get you a ticket to your dream. Hells, you were in charge of fetching take-out every Friday for your coworkers, like a dog playing fetch.

Your office decided on Fennel Fields this time, the most distant restaurant from the precinct.

The noise in the restaurant had been overwhelming, voices chattering all over, glasses clinking, utensils scraping plates, until one guy managed to drown out everything with a simple question “Anything else I can help you with?”

Wait a minute…

You know that voice, you’ve heard it somewhere, no? But where? One simple look at the source and gears in your mind started turning. It was the busboy asking some family a few tables away from you. Nothing out of the ordinary, maybe you misjudged it.

And then the guy turned. Smiling at his coworker that just passed by him with an awkward ‘hey’. That smile. Dimples. Brown hair poking from under his hat. And most importantly two small hickeys just under his jaw he clearly did not care enough to cover in any way.

That’s curious, you left similar marks on Vigilante a few days ago, when you had another run-up with him late at night. He tugged you behind a dumpster and kissed you like a man possessed. And you were feeling bold enough to suck on his tender skin for the first time.

At first, it wasn’t a plan to mark him up, so you can by chance recognize him in public. You marked his neck for him. Eventually, he would tug off his mask, become a normal citizen again, but the prize he got as Vigilante would stay. He would remember you even after the morning sun rose.

Oh dear God…

A smile dropped from your face, eyes widening in disbelief. And you just could not stop staring. As you watched him leave to refill the water pitcher, every noise quieted down.

Vigilante.

That guy was Vigilante. He must have been. What a weird accident would that be, right? Right?

He seemed so sweet though, bright eyes were shining under wire-framed glasses. He looked all shy and nerdy. Fennel Fields busboy could not be the one killing criminals under the moonlight and drawing hearts with blood for you.

“Cash or card?” The cashier’s voice interrupted your inner monologue when he put your take-out in front of you.

“Card, please. Uhhhh…” You squinted at the nametag and continued, “Tyler? Could you do something for me?”

It was not hard finding out the busboy’s name, all that needed to be done was to battle your lashes and sweetly ask the cashier. That guy was more than happy to provide the name of his least favorite coworker. The good old sabotaging in work, how lovely.

So… Adrian Chase. The poor boy is either an unlucky victim of your search or he is Vigilante. Chances were not even 50/50, you were sure. Almost sure. Like 70/30 in your favor.

Finding his address was even easier. God bless the police database. You ought to pay him a visit. By now you knew Vigilante had a habit of going out on Friday night, leaving a fresh new corpse to bask in the morning sun most of the time. Meaning that if you, by any chance, knocked on Chase’s door, he would not be home.

Around 10 p.m. you arrived at the apartment complex where Vigilante was supposed to live. With unsure steps, you made your way through the staircase, stopping once you saw the apartment number you’ve got written on a piece of paper.

However, knocking and neither ringing the bell resulted in open doors. As far as you could tell with ear pressed against the door, no movement was possible to be heard inside.

You could not get discouraged, you were too far to stop. Another plan was the fire escape stairway leading around the building. You sneaked around until you found his living room window, relatively hard task to locate the right apartment. With a quick look, you knew he wasn’t at home. Maybe if you tried to open the window…

Bingo!

For a guy bragging about how he crawled through your open window, he didn’t care enough about locking up his. You carefully crawled into the dark room and a thought passed by that this is so wrong.

But you’re already there, might as well look around to confirm your suspicion.

Cliché of villains living in the lair was wrong this time. His apartment looked well-kept, almost too normal. With a quick rummage you found out he kept knives and guns around, tucked away under the coffee table in the living room, in a cupboard next to cereal in the kitchen. Vigilante’s paranoid.

When you entered his bedroom, the last and only room you had no chance to search, you immediately noticed the peculiar mess. For his respectively clean apartment, his bedroom gave the impression that it was blown out by a bomb. Clothes on the floor, as well as empty water bottles and candy wrappers, messed up bed covers, half completed Lego set scattered over the floor.

A familiar object caught your attention in all that clutter. A piece of lacy blue cloth lying on the floor, oh you knew what it was in an instant. You pocketed it and headed back to the living room, stretching out on his couch. How ironic.

And you waited and waited, losing the track of time, clock was ticking, cars speeding outside, it almost lulled you to sleep. Then all of a sudden you heard the rattling of keys outside of the front door. Bang of doors being shut. Footsteps in the hall. And finally, the living room doors swung open.

It was your time to scare him in his own home. How the tables turned.

“Jesus-“ Adrian all but jumped. Even though he found it weird you weren’t skulking around the streets looking for him, he would have never guessed you would be standing in the middle of his apartment instead. Now you were even at last.

He was not wearing his suit and it took you aback for a split second. If he wore it you would be 100 % sure he was Vigilante, this way there was still some space for doubts. But the way his eyes got stuck on your frame gave him away.

In case you misguessed your deduction and he was, in fact, a normal guy, he would have looked far more shocked, scared even, since a stranger was walking around his apartment. But this look? Oh you knew this look all too well.

“Adrian Chase. It is a pleasure to meet you,” You kept your voice friendly, with an equally complimentary fake smile. “I hope you don’t mind me visiting you. After all, you have been in my house several times and you never invited me to yours.”

“What? No? I’ve never- I have never been in your house. Stranger.” He stuttered right off the bat, that was adorable.

“Stranger? Come on, Vigilante. Don’t lie.”

“Vigilante? I have no idea who that is and even if I did, I have no idea how you might think that I am him. Or her. Or them.”

“I just find it curious you have a familiar hickey on your neck. I left one like this on Vigilante myself.” You never thought you'd find out his secret identity like that, and neither did he, otherwise he wouldn’t let you bite his neck.

“These? Those are not hickeys,” He pointed at his neck and shook his head a little too fast to appear calm “I had an accident”

“Let me guess, you fell on someone’s lips?”

“Happens more often than you’d think.” Ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous.

“Mhhmm, sure.” You fought an emerging smile so hard. You had this idea of confronting him sternly, confidently, and most importantly with a totally cool attitude. That plan was falling apart, whether it was from the happiness of finding out who Vigilante was or his dumbstruck expression, did not matter at the end of the day.

“And this…” From your pocket, you pulled out a bunched-up piece of cloth. Lace panties in the signature teal color. “You have no idea how my underwear got into your bedroom, right?”

“Those are… Mine?” You wondered how this guy never gave away his big secret. He has been living double life for so long and yet he never learned how to lie properly.

“Just because you stole them doesn’t mean they belong to you,” It was a perfect trap. You knew some perverse side of Vigilante would not resist stealing your stuff, especially if it was in the colors of his suit “I bought them specifically to catch you in the act and kept them on top of my drawer. In case they disappeared I would know you were in my house again, rummaging through my stuff.”

“I’m not some pervert that steals panties.” He dramatically gasped and put his hand on the chest to be a tad more theatrical. You completely dismissed his defensive words.

“Give up, Vig. I got you.” Such a bold statement. You knew who he was now, that wouldn’t stop him from killing you right there on the spot, since your goal was to put him behind bars. Would he be able to sleep peacefully if he truly got rid of you? Even if it was for the ‘greater good’ and protecting his identity?

“Are you here to arrest me?” After a beat of silence, he spoke with uncertainty and you weren’t able to pinpoint the emotion that washed over his face.

A triumphant smile dropped from your face with the question. Were you? You had handcuffs in your jacket, all this time they were waiting to be put on his wrists.

But was it what you truly wanted?

“Adrian Chase, Vigilante, you are under arrest.”

His confused face was everything. Every millisecond it lasted was golden. Truth be told every grimace he made was making you happy. You could see his whole face and that was priceless. But aside from his bedazzlement, his lack of resistance was something you had not expected. He simply stood there, turning his back on you and putting his hand behind his back without hesitation.

Adrian knew he was running around on borrowed time. One way or another, today or tomorrow he would be caught or killed. Of course, he prayed that day would never come, but if Vigilante should end, should be caught, he was glad it was you. He would gladly rot in jail with peace of mind if he knew you had fulfilled your dream and made it to Gotham.

“What for?” He asked with a sigh and flinched when the cold metal handcuffs wrapped around his wrists.

“Multiple counts of murder, assault, breaking and entering, obstruction of police work and personally I would like to add theft.” Quite a long list of crimes and misdemeanors.

“What did I steal? Aside from your lingerie?”

“My dignity. My pride. My mind. My-“

“Heart?” He peeked over his shoulder, but it wasn't his usual goofy smile that was distracting you. It was his eyes. He looked right into your soul and searched for answers you didn’t even know you had.

Quiet so loud it almost deafened you. You had no words suitable for a swing back. Instead, you tugged Adrian by his cuffed hands and he obediently backed in your steps all the way to the couch, where you pushed on his shoulders as a sign to sit down.

He did so with such a stoic expression it made your mind wonder what was he feeling. Regret? Sadness? Rage? Admiration perhaps? After all, you found him on your own without the need to snatch his mask like you tried the first time he made his presence known in your own house.

Only heavy breathing filled the room, temperature growing hot with Adrian’s burning gaze. Did it make your cold heart melt or was it already soft when you saw him for the first time without his mask? And did his eyes always pierced your skin with such cruel intention or was it just because he was afraid for his future?

Goddamn the things he made you do.

You found your favorite position on his lap again, straddling him in a hurry before the logical part returned to take hold.

You pressed an open-mouthed kiss on his neck, just under his jaw. After so many make outs you finally got a chance to kiss his pretty neck properly as his collared suit wasn’t an obstacle now.

Adrian saw it the same way, he had waited long enough to feel your warm lips caress his skin once more.

And right here and there he knew you had gone soft for him. He could not control himself and bucked his hips up to yours with an eager whimper.

“It was only a kiss.” His reaction made you chuckle. Power rushed over your body, now that you knew how sensitive he was to your touch.

“Are you quoting Mr. Brightside?” His head cocked to the side with a cheery smile. You wonder what is going on inside his head all the time. Probably a cymbal-banging monkey and Wii music playing in the background. Or in this case, his brain might be playing Mr. Brightside.

“Why would I be?”

“Your voice cracked a little, I thought you were about to sing the rest.” His smile was contagious, you could not help but grin at him in retaliation.

“You’re handcuffed and can’t move, if I started singing it would be officially considered torture.” He deserved to be tortured though, at least a little bit. For all the trouble he caused you, for making you doubt your intentions.

“But you sing for me so prettily. Especially when I stuff you full of my cock. I’ve been hearing your moans in my head for days after our first time. Shit, I had to jerk off all the ti-“ Before he could chatter further you pressed a palm over his mouth. Does this guy ever shut up?

You bowed back to his neck, continuing your work of peppering kisses over his throat, biting and sucking from time to time. But Adrian kept firing words against your hand, every thought he wanted to share with you was muffled and lost.

The other hand slid from his chest down to his jeans. He looked so alien like this. You imagined his face all the time, but he always had his suit. This time he wore simple everyday clothing and it felt wrong in the weirdest way possible.

Palming his bulge through his pants was not enough for Adrian, whines buzzed against your palm more frequently, hips chasing your touch, if he had his hand free you were sure he would be pawing at you in an instant.

You granted him freedom of speech because your hands had more important task than silencing him. Freeing him from the confines of his jeans. Unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped in milliseconds. So fast he lost the words.

Two fingers were shoved into his mouth, his glassy eyes looked up to you with shock. “Suck.” You told him sternly and he wasted no time to obey. Tongue swirling around your digits was a bit distracting, despite his eagerness you managed to shove down his boxers and let his dick spring free against his stomach.

He looked so pretty like this. Unable to move his hand, unable to talk, red and throbbing cock already spilling precum and the brightest eyes pleading for anything you were willing to give him. If anyone told you this is how your rivalry with Vigilante would end, you might have been nicer to him from the start.

Properly wet fingers were pulled out from his mouth and made their way down. Wrapping around him, stroking slowly but tightly, smearing the saliva all over his length. His eyes silently pleaded for more, but his mouth had trouble forming the words.

“Can I suck your tits?” The attitude of that man.

“Wow, so straightforward.” Most of the time you two were together, clothes covered your bodies. You’ve felt his dick more than you’ve seen it. The fact he was now asking for more of your body just turned you on more.

“You’re the one to talk. You come to my apartment, handcuff me and go straight into jerking me off.” He explained with a strained voice and his eyes flickered down to your hand.

“And snappy.” You grinned at him some more before you removed your hand from him, just to unbutton your shirt and shift the cups of your bralette to the side.

Adrian licked his lips once he saw your breasts spill free, barely blinking, not daring to break the gaze he held with your nipples. After his brain finally realized what was before him, he latched his mouth onto you. Licking, sucking, biting. 

Your hand returned to his cock, settling on a nice steady pace that made him groan against your skin, while you, yourself, softly moaned out. It had been too long since someone paid such attention to your chest.

He lapped at your nipples with ferocity, switching from one to another. Tongue drawing circles, teeth pricking the sensitive skin. He was seconds away from straight up motorboating your tits.

Adrian chased your touch, whining and wriggling when you moved your hand faster and faster. So desperate to touch you he had to chase his need away by digging nails into his palms.

Your focus was lacking due to a hungry mouth sucking on your chest, but it did not take a genius to notice the change in demeanor. Eyes tightly shut, breath shaking, needier moans. He was close to bursting in your hand.

“Motherfucker!” He yelled out in frustration when you snatched your hand away and his release with it.

“That’s not nice.” God bless your sarcastic tongue, it drew out the worst in him and what was there not to love than seeing a riled-up man pouting and squirming.

“Sorry, babe, every nice word leaves my mind when I see your face.”

Fingers latched on his face, squishing his cheeks with one hand, tilting his head directly to you. A warning to play nice. But when you saw the realization in his eyes, you kissed the pout formed on his inviting lips.

“Uncuff me,” He demanded with a bratty frown. “Uncuff me and I’ll show you something better than nice words.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it either, you’re mean to me, but here we are.” Did he really just tell you that you don’t deserve it? He just played the same card against you with no shame whatsoever.

Not a single word was said when you stood up from his lap, not even an objection or whine from Adrian when you left him in the living room and with a sway of your curves made your way to the bedroom. You were sure that horndog wouldn’t resist running after you with hands still handcuffed. To your surprise, he didn’t even trip over his own legs when he caught up with you entering the messy room.

After all, you were merciful and quite frankly curious. He promised you something and wanted to get it. So when he awkwardly stood before you, watching you with puppy eyes, how could you resist granting him the freedom he craved.

“Strip,” He said sternly and rubbed his wrists while you were putting away your restraints, but the sharp look you gave him made his voice soften. “Please."

Both undressing while the other watched every move, every piece of clothing being dumped on his already untidy floor. Once you stood there revealed to him, except for your underwear, and Adrian to you, there was no doubt your heart stopped for a second.

Vigilante was a real person…

You could touch him, run your fingers across his chest, into his hair, and he wouldn’t disappear. You knew it before of course, but the true realization hit you the moment you saw his bare skin. Littered with a few small scars, bullet wounds, and fresh bruises ranging from blueish purple to faded yellow.

One of the most beautiful paintings you have ever seen. As most of the masterpiece, this one was also created with madness. Hand in hand with lunacy, paranoia and often a crippling sadness.

There always was and always will be a profound beauty in tragedy. All of this was your tragedy. A story of ambitious woman fighting her way through to success, just to have rug swept under her feet and knocked down by a crazed man.

Maybe you did not find what you initially looked for, success and glory in the work field, but you’ve found something else. A long lost piece. You were fitting together like a puzzle that was finally given a chance to create a bigger picture. Something achingly beautiful.

It seemed Vigilante didn’t have similar thoughts stopping him from doing anything, soon he was on you again. Cradling you in searing hold and kissing you like there was no tomorrow. Maybe he was afraid you would disappear too, he had to make sure to burn the softness of your body to his mind. The addiction of skin to skin, heart to heart.

Shortly after he stole your breath straight from lungs you found yourselves lying on his bed. Little shakes of excitement accompanied by growing anticipation.

He crawled on top of you like a predator. He got his prey all sprawled out, tense, ready to jump out of its skin, yet ready to jump his bones a second he allowed it. The wandering mind naturally remembered something else, resting in the upper drawer.

Adrain reached across you and started digging through the mess in the nightstand. Baring his pearly whites with a winning smile.

And he was still grinning brightly when he showed you what he fished out. A knife. Out of all the things he could have gotten, it was a knife. You quickly got up to rest on elbows and an inner voice told you to prepare for take off.

“Any reason for that?” You lazily pointed at his hand.

“There might be.”

Few people saw red as a color of passion, and few as a color of anger. Years on the police force taught you to see red as a sign of blood or injury. And Adrian? He connected this color with the suit of his best friend Chris. Seeing you in red panties, Peacemaker’s color, made him literally see red. You’re not Peacemaker’s, you belong to Vigilante, you belong to him.

Adrian wanted to make sure you would remember it. The knife slowly slid under the cloth on your hips. With a clean swipe, he sliced the expensive lace and moved to the other side. Once it didn’t hold together he tore away the last piece of clothing covering your body.

“Fucking four-course meal. I just want to eat you,” A gush of realization hit him in the middle of admiring your naked body. “Eat you out I mean. I’m not a cannibal, I feel like I should clarify that when I’m holding a knife.”

He swiftly tossed the knife on the floor and before you heard clinking of it hitting the ground, he was prying his head right between your thighs.

Adrian had a bad habit of not eating properly. To be fair it was hard for him to notice the hunger when his mind was running at full speed, swarming his head with millions of other things than basic human needs. But when a feast was laid out before him? He wouldn’t leave a single crumb.

The second he buried his tongue in between your folds, you became his favorite dessert. And the second you felt him suck on your clit, you realized his tongue would go to waste in prison. You made the right decision, he was much better off there, worshiping your body.

Delightful pleasure blossomed in your pussy and stretching to the very end of each of your limb and swarming your head. Not even all those nasty noises could not take you out from the heaven you lingered in.

Warm tongue nudging your clit with short flicks before switching to lick a long strip all across your cunt. Prying deep into you for another taste, sucking on your labia, occasionally biting your inner thighs. Adrian was having time of his life while you clutched on the bedsheets and moaned in retaliation.

Completely and utterly consumed… Barely feeling a hand sneaking off your thighs and making its way to your dripping hole. Two fingers were pushed into you with no restraint while Adrian’s tongue continued his work on you.

With trouble you lifted your head from his pillows and looked down just to find Adrian looking at you half-lidded, smirking against your clit when your gazes locked. Then he went for a bold move, latching on you, sucking harshly and shaking his head, which resulted in a bolt of shivers down your spine.

This was too good.

He felt your pussy clenching, arousal seeping down to his bed, legs shaking on either side of his head, and the moment your head got thrown back and moans pitched he withdrew his mouth and fingers from you, letting you tether on the edge.

“Shit!” You yelled out upon being denied your bliss. How did he dare.

“That’s not nice” He repeated your previous words with a grin and playfully slapped your outer thigh.

“Go fuck yourself!”

“I’d much rather fuck you, but if you insist.” His hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking himself above you in an obscene demonstration accompanied by over-the-top moans.

You lunged at him and caught his hands before he could continue. This time he resisted having hands restricted, trying to twist his wrists out of your hold with a frown.

“Let go.” There was a hint of dominance in his voice, but what person you would be if you crumbled under every little threat.

“No.” The hold stayed strong and you had no intention of letting go.

Adrian didn’t appreciate your decision. Deep inside his heart skipped a beat every time you did something defiant. When you cursed in his name, when you threw that metal pipe at him, when you refused to let him go. All that presented a challenge and Adrian’s no quitter. But now? He was pent up and when you just delayed the moment he got to be inside you once more, he had enough. And if that meant he had to fight dirty, so be it.

Your breath almost got knocked out of your lungs when his whole body fell on you, successfully pining you to the mattress. Mouth pressed against yours to prevent you from objecting. You would call him out, just for the sake of it, but his whole weight on you, acting like a weighted blanket, was more than welcome.

You did not even notice when you loosened the hold on his wrists, which Adrian quickly took advantage of. You were too busy kissing him back with the same amount of fierceness and before you could notice, you were the one pinned down by wrists.

And that time, when Adrian was above you, his hands on each side of your face, holding you down like a feral animal, yet staring at you in awe, you realized his eyes were green. So beautifully green. After all that time of wondering what color his eyes were, you finally had an answer.

He shifted your hands together above your head, which allowed him to hold you down with just one hand while the other guided his cock into your sopping pussy. Before he pushed in, you were given a soft kiss, a beautiful contrast to previous actions.

You moaned in each other's mouths when he finally entered you with one stroke. You were a sucker for the feeling of fullness only he was able to give you and after not letting you cum on his mouth you were in need to feel him deep inside again.

“You look so pretty like this.” His hand found its way to your chest and pressed right in the middle, feeling your beating heart. He had a weird fixation with it. Sweet nevertheless.

The hammering heart reminded him no matter what was before and what came next, it was beating for him and him only in that moment.  

He drove into you slowly as he basked in the opportunity to feel your walls constrict around him after such a long time. All those wet dreams about you could never replace the real thing.

“I always look pretty.” You smiled at him before he brought his head down. Nice kiss soon turning into a messy one. You could still feel yourself on his tongue when he pried it inside your mouth.

“I can’t argue with that.” He chuckled at your remark after pulling away from the kiss, a string of saliva stretching between you before Adrian wiped it away. With that you rolled up your hips, urging him for more as you fucked yourself on his cock.

Lewld sounds of skin slapping, creaking of the bed, squelching of your wetness and moans and whimpers followed what started as a nice and solid pace and soon turned into the good old savage fucking. And in the meantime he allowed you to run your hands over his body however you wanted.

With Vigilante, with Adrian, it always had to be a lot. No one would hear you complaining though.

With a new vigor of Adrian’s hips slapping against yours, well-kept nails colored in bloody red as you scratched his back in the last hopeless shot to hold on. Deep hurtful marks were left all along his tensing muscles, he didn’t mind it one bit. The idea of being marked in the heat of passion was encouraging at last.

He just wished it would be permanent, a forever reminder of you, that would nudge his memory every time he saw it in a mirror. Whenever this would get a good or bad ending, you were a person who woke up emotions he thought he had lost or hadn’t felt so strongly in a long while.

His hold shifted to your waist, sliding to your hips. Clutching onto you so tightly on purpose to create bruises in the shapes of his fingertips and similar to you, pressing his nails past the barrier of sensitive skin. Hoping it would leave a long-lasting mark. You wailed in response, it hurt so good it made a mush out of your brain.

Yet a dark thought crossed his mind. Getting the knife lying on the floor to carve his initials on your shaking body. That would be the permanence he craved. Painful wounds would turn into nasty scars not allowing you to forget who he was to you for the rest of your life.

But he couldn’t pour all his frustrations on you, all this anxiety and fear of abandonment. He couldn’t do that to you. The truth was you made his blood boil, brought out the worst in him, made him doubt his motivation, terrifying him with arrest, but you had reasons to. It wasn’t accidental or illogical. He could never hurt you for doing the right thing in the eyes of the public even if it meant the worst for him.

If he couldn’t make you remember him with scars on your body, he wanted to make sure you would never forget that night. Pour out a part of his anger on you in the best possible way.  His thrusts were merciless, making his cheap bed shake and headboard slam against the wall. Too late to think about the neighbors, your moans and whines were already loud enough to alert everyone in close distance.

“Fuck! Don’t stop!” You screamed out and it only encouraged him to go on, fingers sneaking down your body to rub tight circles on your clit with threatening precision. The sole thing that mattered was to make you cum on his dick.

“You’re doing so well,” He whispered into your hair with a calming voice. You had to tuck your face to his neck, hiding your red cheeks and muffling piercing screams of pleasure with his silky skin. “Cum for me, baby.”

And you did. Hot burning pleasure shot across your body, all the way to your fingers holding onto his back, to toes on your straining feet, your back arched, chest pressed against his, white flashed in front of your eyes.

Adrian slowed down and fucked you through it while muttering sweet words to your ear. Hands slid under you to cradle you in a hot sweaty embrace.

You came down from your high soon after, but his own was awaiting him and he wanted to reach it too. Let his mind shut down.

The way he picked up pace again made you whimper in overstimulation. His body pinned you down, cock sliding in and out of your spent cunt swiftly, quick moans filling your ears, sweat mixing with his deodorant was suddenly so vivid. Adrian won over your senses in every possible aspect.

He was already so close with how your pussy clenched around him when you came. There was no chance for him to last long like this. Not with how his hips bucked like a wild animal.

“Look at me,” His warm hand cradled your cheek, bringing you to reality. “Please, look at me. I want to see your eyes when I cum.”

The plead sounded so broken and urgent, you had no other choice than to comply. You opened your eyes and saw his green ones, staring back at you while his brows knitted together. Eyelids barely resisting the urge to close.

They might have been right when they said eyes are the windows to the soul.

Whispers of his name on your lips broke something inside him. Pushing him over the edge with a shaky moan. His forehead pressed tightly against yours, panting in your open mouth as he pumped his cock into you for the last few times. Hot thick cum coated your already oversensitive insides and you clamped your walls around him to prolong his orgasm.

Not for a second you dared to close your eyes. He asked you nicely, it wouldn’t be fair if you defied. But since when did you care to listen to his pleas?

He stilled his hips when his cock stopped flaring inside you. However, his eyes opened after quite some time, after he gathered enough power to stop his shaking. Maybe you weren’t the only one fucked completely dumb.

He caught your lips in a soft lingering kiss, his thumb stroking your cheek in such loving manner. It spread warmth deep in your chest, so genuine and adoring.

Vigilante, the concept of a person, of a maniac, dragged you through hell. The way he was laughing in your face, the way you stomped in anger like a little child whenever he escaped, only fueling the fire.

But Vigilante you now knew? Adrian Chase? He took you to Heaven. His words made you feel like the most important person, his touch left goosebumps in its way, and the way he treated you after almost fucking your brains out he made you wonder about the remaining sides of him that you haven't had the chance to see so far.

The million-dollar smile he gave you was comforting, you could get used to it. Addictive as much as everything else about him.

Adrian carefully pulled out and rolled to the side, hissing through his teeth when the pain of scratched back hit him. Both of your bodies tiredly rested on his messy bed, heavy breathing joined the ringing in your ears. Long silence haunted the room, you were afraid to say anything, not wanting to disturb the peace between you two, and Adrian had no words to say as it seemed. Until…

“You won’t leave for Gotham, right?”

Oh, he wanted to keep you.

“Well, I promised myself I would not go to Gotham unless I catch Vigilante. But gosh darn, is he one slippery motherfucker.” You turned on your side to face him properly, corners of your mouth twitched upwards in contrast to such ‘hopeless’ statement.

He smiled at you, eyes twinkling with optimism. “I guess you have to stay a little longer. Before you catch him, of course.”

His hand reached out for yours with uncertainty, but once he saw you didn’t pull away, he intertwined fingers with yours in a tight hold.

“Stay.”

Such a simple word, yet it contained his whole heart. Would it be possible for Vigilante, despite his claims that he doesn’t feel emotions, to feel something? And would it be possible for a police officer, despite her claims of hate towards him, to feel the same?

You silently nodded. There was no use for words when the look you shared said everything that needed to be said.

Was it hatred? No, at least not the serious kind. Was it love? Far from it. Maybe what you two shared could not be named.

You would still throw a metal pipe on his head without a second thought and Adrian would trip you with pleasure whilst running away from you. He would stick out tongue on you if you screamed obscenities at him, but he would also kiss your cheek in the morning if you decided to stay the night and you would straighten his glasses for him when needed and tuck away hair from his face.

Both of you would exchange bloody red roses, sweet looks, and bitter words until fate decided otherwise.

[transmascaraa]

Reader being sad cause they can't have an animal they love, and they need comfort cuz big sad awehh :(

(example - reader wants a cat but has cat allergy)

multiple characters headcannons!

not allowed.(not a tv girl reference btw)

characters: lyney, gaming, wanderer x gn!reader

author's note: WOAH I GOT THE MOTIVATION TO WRITE SOMETHING. anyways basically your parents don't allow you to have a pet of your choice blah blah blah yk how it is i hope🤷‍♂️ ENJOYY

๑ Lyney

-he will literally want any animal that you want just because it's you who wants it.

-and after seeing you come to him on a random sunday at 16:07 seemingly sad about something, he immediately welcomes you in his home and lets you get comfortable.

-he doesn't rush you or anything, he'll let you calm down first.

-he's gonna bring you a cup of water, or tea, or coffee, whichever you prefer.

-after you talk vent to him about what's worrying you, he's quick to think of a solution.

-"awh.. your parents really are strict... hmm.... how about.." and then it's almost like a lightbulb appeared above his head.

-"i know! i'll buy you the pet that you want, and it'll stay at my place, how does that sound? your parents don't have to know A SINGLE THING." he really wanted you to feel better.

-"but what about Lynette and Freminet-"

-"they'll get used to it eventually!"

-there's no point in arguing with him, he'll do it anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✧ Gaming

-now, if you came to him to tell him about your situation, the outcome would be pretty similar.

-he'll welcome you with open arms inside the warmth of his home.

-he will bring you something to drink, something to eat, preferably some small snack or chocolate bar, as he patiently waits for you to calm down.

-as you finally finish and feel calmer, you tell him about your situation and tell him that you're looking for a solution in some way.

-with that, he puts his hand on his chin and thinks thoroughly about the problem.

-once he comes up with an idea, he will explain it to you in great detail.

-"hmm... maybe you could keep the pet at my place? y'know, it would probably get along with man chai, so it wouldn't be lonely! and of course, whenever you wish to visit, know that it'll be well-fed and never be bored!"

-after a bit of thinking, you finally speak.

-"that's... a good idea, gaming. sure! thank you so much! you're a lifesaver!"

-he hugged you softly.

-"of course, [name], as long as you're happy!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

♡ Wanderer

-uhhhh idk what to tell you at first

-he's gonna be confused at first as to why you're so sad over to being able to have a random animal as your pet

-more importantly confused as to why you're coming to him out of all people

-but okay.

-he will listen to all of your vents and rants intently, waiting for you to finish.

-"okay. and what am i supposed to do about it?"(he was half-joking)

-"are you gonna help me in any way? can i like- buy the pet and you keep it at your place? you'll have to take care of it but i promise i'll come over as much as i can!"

-"are you insane-"

-"PLEASEEEE-"

-"FINE."

-"oh my archons, thank you so much, wanderer!" as you hugged him tight.

-"well, it's the most i can do i suppose. by the way, what's your parents' address?-"

-"NO."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i really like this one

i hope i'll have more motivation soon lmfao

doesn't matter hopefully y'all liked this lol

| @keeyisbored | @mariaace <3

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Just A Kiss

Joining the congrats train for @withacapitalp, happy birthday Liam! You're not escaping the frog theme and cursed Steve, not on my watch.

"Look man, I don't really care if you're actually a prince, a model or a lying hobo, the answer is still no."

The frog looked at him with so much sass Eddie actually considered caving in, but...nah. It was disgusting. Even though it looked kind of cute with that weird pattern on its head that looked like a really fluffy mane of hair, light brown eyes and slight pout. "Like it's going to kill you, man," it croaked out and Eddie took another drag from his cigarette. Talking frogs. Yep, just another normal day in Hawkins.

"Look, even if I wanted to, which I don't - zoofilia isn't cool under any pretense, just for your info - I'm pretty sure I'm just high as a kite. You're a frog, which duh, you probably know that, but...uh. I don't want to wake up in the morning with the unsettling knowledge that I smooched some poor non-consenting animal and all I got from that was some rash on my mouth. Hey, can animals even consent? That's...no, you can't." One more drag of his cigarette. Maybe two. Make it another cigarette, shit. He didn't think that one joint was so strong.

The frog rolled his eyes again. "I'm not telling you to go and such face with a dolphin or something. Plus animals don't give consent because they a) can't talk, b) aren't cursed human beings. Like yours truly."

Eddie bit the filter in a futile attempt to sober up. Didn't help. "So you've said. Cursed human. Sorry if I don't believe you, froggy."

"It's Steve."

Eddie snorted out the smoke through his nose. "Steve. A frog named Steve."

There it was, that adorable eye roll again. "It's a temporary frog, otherwise full-time human Steve." It even tried to put its...paws? No, not paws, frogs don't have paws, legs? Front legs? Cute legs. Those, on its...hips? Eddie didn't know enough about frog anatomy but hell. It was adorable.

He giggled, brushing back his hair. "Sure, full-time human Steve. Is this a part-time job, then? A hobby?"

"A fucking curse, that's what it is." The frog almost growled, except it ended the annoyed tone with an unintentional ribbit. "Shit. Have you ever had hiccups? This - ribbit - oh god fuck why - ribbit - is worse."

Eddie just shook his head, wondering if he'd remember this trip the next day. He hoped so. "You'd think it would be natural to you." When the frog - sorry, Steve - just stared, he corrected himself. "For a frog, I mean. Which you're obviously not, except now you are-"

"Which part of a it-was-a-curse-from-an-old-hag-my-dad-pissed-off-a-few-decades-ago don't you understand? Ribbit, god make it stop-"

"Pretty much everything that wasn't a ribbit, pal," grinned Eddie and lit another cigarette. But it was a bit too quiet and when he turned to part-time-frog Steve, he wondered if maybe the trip was finally going away, if he'd just been chilling with an innocent frog for which his nerdy brain made a full page of lore, except- "What?" he asked the frog who was eyeing his smokes.

The frog groaned and tried to rub its still-not-sure-if-leg-or-paw over its forehead. "Look, if you're not willing to put me out of my misery either by - ribbit fuck this - stepping on me or giving me an absolutely consensual kiss, at least give me a cigarette. After the day I've had, I really need it."

"Uhhhh..." Eddie thought for a moment. Was it animal cruelty if he lit up a cigarette and put it next to a frog? The frog didn't have to smoke it, right? And he had no way of verifying if the frog was a minor. In...frog years or whatever.

The frog narrowed its eyes at him. "A kiss or a cigarette, dude. Choose now."

"Geez, so demanding for such a little guy," grumbled Eddie but obliged, lit another cigarette and handed it to the frog...the frog who grabbed it with both palms and took a long drag from it, closing its eyes.

"I really, really needed this," it muttered. Eddie wondered it being a frog would help him save on the smokes. It looked like its lungs were fairly small, one cigarette would last him for ages, but how would he buy them? So many questions...questions interrupted by Steve blowing a tiny puff of smoke from its - his? - mouth and looking at Eddie. "Don't you have better things to do than smoke with a temporary frog on a Friday evening?"

Eddie rolled his eyes. "I liked you better when all you could say was ribbit. But actually no, I'm waiting for a few of my friends."

And wow, could that frog smirk. "Can't wait to meet them."

Eddie was still pretty convinced that kissing a frog was off the table. But when a familiar pizza van parked next to him, Jonathan and Argyle jumping out, he found himself reconsidering. Just a little. Because it would have saved him from the following conversation.

"How are you doing, my man?" smiled Argyle and pulled Eddie into a hug, cracking his spine in the process. Argyle's bear hugs tended to do that.

Jonathan just stood there, staring. "Is that frog smoking a cigarette?"

The world slowed down and Eddie was just about to explain that the weed was a bit too strong this time and he might have hallucinated that the frog was talking to him, but then it blew another cloud of smoke from its tiny mouth and glared at Jonathan. "You've got a problem with that?" it asked in a dangerous croak.

"Oh yeah," offered Eddie weakly, "guys, this is Steve. Steve, this is Jonathan and Argyle."

And Argyle, bless his perpetually stoned heart, just walked towards Steve and shook his front leg/paw/hand/whatever. "Cool, nice to meet you, dude! Hey, do you just smoke cigarettes or are you in for some Purple Palm Tree Delight?"

Full time Steve or whatever just gave a pleased ribbit. "I thought you'd never ask."

And that's how Eddie, Jonathan and Argyle ended up stoned out of their minds...along with a frog. The nights were warm and they ended up napping next to each other in a patch of grass next to the Lover's Lake, setting tiny stoned Steve to the side to make sure no one crushed him in their sleep. And Eddie, in his blissed out state of mind, really didn't look forward to the next morning. Froggy Steve was fun. He liked Steve. He didn't look forward to the moment he'd have to accept that Steve was just a shared hallucination between the three of them.

Except...

Except in the morning, he got woken up by someone cuddling him. And that wasn't unusual, Argyle was a cuddler, except he was wrapped around Jonathan like a very dependent octopus. Maybe it was the blanket. Yes, definitely, the blanket must have fallen off him and crumpled behind his back and-

And the blanket snored.

Flipping around, he found himself face to face with an absolutely gorgeous young man. The bitchy slope of his eyebrow, furrowed in sleep, the numerous moles...Eddie's breath hitched.

Before he realized what was happening, his eyes opened and the lazy smile he gave Eddie made him want to jump in the lake and swim to the other side and back. Just to cool down a little bit. "Morning, Eddie," he yawned and Eddie recognized that voice. With or without the ribbit.

"...Steve?" he tried, and the smile just widened. "Oh god, this is going to sound so weird, but I was really convinced that you were a frog when I met you yesterday."

Steve just stretched those biteable arms above his head and groaned, closing his eyes again. Only then did Eddie notice he was wearing his spare clothes, a bit too tight and mismatched, but it was all he had in the van. "I was a frog, man. Is your memory usually this bad?"

Eddie's mouth hung open. Oh okay. That explained everything. Except it fucking didn't. "Uhhhh...no. I mean. I remembered you being a frog so it's a good thing, no?" Squinting at Steve, he slowly added, "how come you're not a frog anymore?" It sounded stupid, even to him.

But Steve just rolled his eyes with clear affection. "It's what I told you when I met you. A kiss."

"Did I kiss a frog? I mean, you?!" he blurted out before he could catch himself, unsure which one of those two things shocked him more.

One more disapproving head shake. "Shit memory, told you. Nah, it was Argyle. We were high, I mentioned the curse thing and Argyle just said "anything for my bro" and kissed me. I turned back and you...uh. Kind of freaked out because I didn't have any clothes on, so you raced back to your van to get me something. Then we smoked a bit more and went to sleep."

"Oh." Maybe the weed really was stronger than usual because Eddie's mouth had no filter that morning, even more so than usual. "Is it weird that I'm kind of jealous of him?"

Steve opened one eye and smirked at him. "What, you dream of kissing frogs often?"

Eddie hit his shoulder and laughed, mindful of the sleeping pair next to him. "Nope, but sure will dream of kissing you, pretty boy. Unless that would turn you back. Would it?"

There were hands on his hips pulling him down, back to the inviting grass and towards Steve's warm body. "Only one way to find out," he grinned.

[j0kers-light]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Broken Dolls - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A STORY UPDATE!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That unfortunately made you a target.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever that meant.  

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

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

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

“Listen to the pipes on that one.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The gentlemen sitting before you did not jog your memory.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were chained to something.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was the only reassurance you had.  

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

That became your routine. Time held no value anymore.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not anymore.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit up.” 

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

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

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

“Lemme help you.” 

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

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

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

Somewhere along the way Joker lost focus of the mission.  

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

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

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

Your rant fizzled off as you stared at Joker.  

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

You feared what his thoughts could lead to.  

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

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

“I can feed myself.” You grumbled.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now that was out of Joker’s control.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are ya gonna behave doll?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The hallway was dark and ominous before you.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Frost merely shrugged his shoulders and followed his Boss.  

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

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

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

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

 Never did he imagine he would return to this. 

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

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

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

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

You mumbled something inaudible and curled up into a ball.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All hope was not lost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt. 18

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Implied torture?

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

----

Nat had let a small amount of relief fill her when you answered the phone only for it to vanish when all she heard was a startled “umph” before the phone hung up. 

She tried not to assume the worst. She’d been in situations ten times as dangerous and intimidating so why did this feel like the most stressful situation she’d ever been in?

Was it because she couldn’t do anything but sit and hope Peter got to you on time?

With nothing but frustration and anxiety coursing through her Nat began beating herself for not being able to help you. She let her adoration for you cloud her reason and now look at you?

What if the person following you was one of her enemies? She’d been taking every precaution in keeping you a secret from everyone but Clint but maybe she’d slipped up. It was just so easy to forget that she was an Avenger when she talked to you. Easy to forget her past and her duties. 

She felt this overwhelming warmth and excitement about you. It scared her but at the same time she figured it was about time she let herself have something good. Something to look forward to after every mission. Something to worry about, to care for, to spoil. 

A profuse longing filled her heart as she thought of you these days. An urge to wrap her arms around you for hours on end. To run her hands through your hair. To hear your laugh and be the one causing it.

She wanted to take you on better dates than Leon and spend quiet nights talking in the dark about nothing until the two of you fell asleep.

Maybe she’d even slow dance with you like Steve always talked about.

But she might not ever get that with you.

For the first time in years, she felt a profound fear overtake her. Her blood running cold and her heart pounding so hard it was all she could hear. She felt scared and frustrated at the same time. 

Her throat felt so tight she felt like she might choke and tears threatened to form in her eyes.

Taking a deep shaky inhale she shook her head and tried to clear her mind.

She pressed the call button again, hoping to whatever God Steve believed in you picked up.

Your phone went to voicemail immediately.

She let out a defeated sigh just as Peter’s contact photo popped up.

She hit the accept button with the anticipation that he’d found you and you were safe.

“Tell me you’re there Peter.”

“Uhm,” his breathless voice came through “ I lost her phone’s location, it must have shut off or something but Karen remembers where it was and I’m almost there”

Shit, so your phone did turn off. There’s no way you would’ve voluntarily turned it off at a time like this. 

“What is- Hey!” Nat could only listen as Peter shouted and his body thumped as he hit the ground

“Peter? What’s going on?”

“There’s someone on the ground over here”

Nat nearly choked, running another hand through her tussled hair she shook her hands a few times to try and get rid of the numbing that was crawling up her arms.

“Is it a woman?” she tried her best to keep her voice even, she didn’t need Peter to know how terrified she was.

“Uhhhh-” Agonizing seconds drew on as the sound of Peter’s heavy breathing was all she could hear. The sound of an older man’s voice was distant on the other side of the phone “No it’s a guy, smells like he’s drunk” Nat could picture Peter scrunching up his nose in disgust. “There was a girl here earlier though but she ran when she heard me”

Nat let herself relax a bit, checking her phone she saw that a police station wasn’t too far from your location. You would undoubtedly go straight there.

“Uhm Miss Romanoff I think you should see this”

Her phone pinged with a photo and she sucked in her teeth when she saw it. 

The photo was a picture of a darkened street, a grocery bag with a pint your favorite flavor of ice cream was melting on the ground and a few splatters of blood decorated the space around it.

She hoped it wasn’t yours.

“Oh shit! Miss Romanoff this guy’s bleeding. It looks like he was stabbed”

Surprise filled her at the revelation. Had you fought back and managed to get the upper hand? Was that his blood splattered on the floor?

“That fucking bitch tried to kill me!” The distant slurred voice spoke up again and Natasha’s jaw set. An icy cold rage overtook her once again as she thought of all the ways she could kill this guy. It helped ease her mind.

“What should I do Miss Romanoff?” A breathless boyish voice questioned

“Bring him in Peter.”

Peter agreed and told her he’d be back as soon as possible before hanging up. 

Nat set her phone down and slumped on the edge of her bed. Staring at her gray sheets that you guessed correctly all that time ago. Your phone must have gotten roughed up during whatever happened and that’s why you couldn’t pick up. Still- that grunt that you let out before your phone turned off… she hoped you were okay.

Now that she knew you were on the path to safety she switched back to spy mode and tuned in to the police radio.

“Requesting immediate medical attention, I need an ambulance to Station 314. We have an unconscious injured female. Laceration on the shoulder and bruising on the arms, she’s lost a lot of blood” 

Nat reached over and grabbed her laptop, opening it up to follow the ambulance that was headed your way.

You would be fine. The police could handle your wound until the ambulance got there. She didn’t know when you were stabbed but the time between when she called and when you arrived at the police station allotted enough time for you to not lose too much blood. The shoulder was a better place to be cut than the stomach or other vital organs. But she wasn’t happy that you were even hurt at all.

For the next 20 minutes, she listened to the ambulance arrive and transport you to the hospital. Tapping into the paramedic's phones and then the nurses as they rush you to a room. She ensures that a doctor will treat your wounds immediately and then switches the information over to her phone when Friday tells her Peter is back.

On her way down to the interrogation room she re-opens the tab with your favorite flowers that she never dared to purchase and clicks the order button. She has them scheduled to be delivered to your room just as the elevator dings on the underground floor of the compound.

Peter is standing there rocking on his heels and he waves when he spots Nat. 

“Thanks, Peter”

He smiles and bobs his head once before turning to look at the guy in the holding cell.

“Do you need me to stay, Miss Romanoff?”

She shakes her head and checks her phone again. The doctors deduce you’ll need 6 stitches for your wound which means the knife cut at least an inch deep. 

Nat clenches her jaw and tightens her grip around her phone, barely looking up she speaks to Peter

“You should probably get back on patrol before Stark throws a fit.” 

The Young Avenger agrees and heads off with a quick ‘good luck’. She finds it cute that he thinks she’s the one who needs luck.

Typing in the code on the keypad, she checks your condition one last time before entering the cell.

Face blank and demeanor cold she thinks Peter really should have wished this guy good luck. 

Pt.19

A/n: Nat is about to fuck this guy up- anyway I have the ending for this story planned out and I promise their first meeting is literally right around the corner!! ~ Starry

---Taglist--

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish @natashaswife4125 @elenimoris @how-to-disappearrr @screechcat @toouncreativeforausername @ordelixx @autorasexy @blacklightsposts @vmpnano @jono723 @sylencr @saraaahsstuff

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

HI HI DOVE :DD im so excited for the event!! your writings always make me kick my feet and giggle c:

so yk my undying live for the one and only jade leech ^^ (even if the bitey bastard refuses to show his face in gacha >:0) and i see [fairytale scene] fits his love for nature C:

jade and cottagecore hmmmmm 👀 well there goes my brain and my spine—

REMEMBER TO HYDRATE AND UNSHRIMP YOUR SPINE TOO DOVE :DD

Fairytale Scene; Jade Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, mutual pining, yearning

Content Warning; Some swearing

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I don't even know how I ended up with this, but it's cute! Hopefully, this makes up for the bitey bastard refusing to come home!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You felt like you were living in a dream, a picture-perfect dream that only existed in fairytales. How else could you have ended up alone in a quaint cottage on the edge of the sea with Jade Leech; the man that had captured your heart since day one? And despite Floyd and Azul basically making the two of you pack up your bags for a week-long vacation with the crush that you swore was secret — as you hadn’t uttered a word to anybody — you found yourself and Jade alone with just each other for an entire seven days. One hundred and sixty-eight hours, ten thousand and eighty minutes, alone. Scratch that, maybe not a dream, this seemed more like a plot of some cheesy rom-com where both of the characters confessed their love to each other on the beach. But there was no chance that Jade, the Jade Leech would do that… right?

“You seem distracted, Prefect.”

You jumped and hit your head against the hanging flower bed since the two of you were doing some sprucing up in the garden. You were fine, but your clumsiness sent a pot crashing to the ground, leaving you more embarrassed than anything. “Nope! Perfectly fine!” But the rise in octave betrayed you.

If it were anyone else, Jade would have found it amusing, which he still did, but instead of just chuckling at your misfortune, he helped you get out from under the flower bed, and made sure that you weren’t hurt. “Hmm, are you alright, my dear,” he hummed, looking you over for any cuts.

I’m not okay, no, especially with you looking at me like that and calling me dear. I think I’m going to have a stroke here. “Yeah! Just my own clumsiness is all—” you stopped mid-sentence, and stared at Jade. 

The mid-afternoon sun cast him in a warm light, turning his eyes into a glowing gold, and highlighting the olive of his right eye. The ocean glittered behind him. He had a few leaves stuck in his hair, and some dirt on his face, so unlike his clean and refined state that you usually saw him in. And the look he was giving you… it was so soft, so full of worry, concern, and love. 

Perhaps you had hit your head hard enough to give yourself a concussion, with your luck it was more likely than your feelings being reciprocated. 

And Jade’s staring at you was not helping the manner, he was looking you straight in the eye, and you couldn’t look away for some reason. You two hadn’t even been here for a full day yet! How could you expect to survive an entire week of this?!

You weren’t, that was the entire reason the both of you were here. Azul had grown tired of seeing Jade get distracted on the job, and Floyd was getting bored of seeing the two of you do nothing. But you and Jade didn’t need to know that, even if the mer-eel knew what Azul was plotting with this ‘vacation’. This was all a set-up for the two of you to confess, and what a fine set-up it was.

“You need to be more careful,” Jade breathed out, finally putting his concern at ease when he couldn’t find anything wrong. 

There he was, giving you that look again. “Uhhhh, okay,” you said eloquently. Who could blame you really? 

Jade chuckled softly as he helped you up, brushing some dirt off your shoulders. And before you knew it, you were rubbing off the smudge of dirt that was on his cheek, and he froze, looking at you with a curious look.

Shit, did I cross his boundaries? SHIT-

“You are full of surprises,” he murmured, taking the hand you used to smudge the dirt off his face into his, before placing a kiss on your earth-stained knuckles. A week alone, that’s rather unfair of you Azul, but no need to worry, I shall use it to my advantage. And he then placed a kiss to where you had bumped your head. “Hopefully that speeds up the healing process, my dear.”This is a dream, a fairytale scene. This can’t be actually happening… right? But the lingering sensation of his lips on your cheeks was very much, not a dream.

~~~~~~~

Tags; @aqua-beam @azulashengrottospiano @eynnwwyjth @hisui-dreamer @hydra-sea @identity-theft-101 @krenenbaker @officialdaydreamer00 @savanaclaw1996 @silvers-numberonefan @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[risathefairyofshampoo]

Hi! I’m here for your new tarot game:) Happy 1 year anniversary btw 🩷

Your blog definitely reminds me of the song fairy of shampoo by txt, and because of that, I also think of Soobin from txt lol

I wanted to ask what jaehyun from nct’s ideal type is if that’s alright?😊

Jaehyuns ideal type 2024 ୨୧

(Done on the 5th of August, 2024)

Disclaimer: Everything is based on tarot and my intuition. I don't know these idols personally. Take everything that I say with a grain of salt. Let's get started! :)

Note: Ahh Soobin! He is so cute!

This took me a while. He wasn't that communicative. Also I used 2 tarot decks for this reading! Please enjoy ;)

Personality

6oS H, 2oC R, 6oW R, 7oC R, The Magician, 10oC, 5oW, 8oP; 3oC

Uhhhh!!! The energy I'm getting is literally HOT GIRL ENERGY! 🔥🔥🔥

Jaehyuns ideal type isn't an idol. Maybe not famous at all! A more private person! But Instagram comes to my mind... Maybe his ideal type would post a lot on social media (but maybe has a private profile?? 🤔) or maybe an influencer? It's just that he likes it if his partner wouldn't be as successful as him. Of course, they should have their goals and put effort into getting somewhere, but they shouldn't be on his level! Jaehyun also likes smart people! People who you can talk with about everything. Literally basic knowledge about everything! Also, fast thinkers and people who can hold a conversation and that talk very nicely (not necessarily as in what he wants to hear but just very well spoken). He likes someone who is clingy but not all the time! Sometimes, being physical is fine with him, but he doesn't want to be hugged and followed all the time. That's just not what he likes! When it comes to the relationship, Jaehyun isn't the type to be all lovey dovey! I mean, he can have feelings, and he CAN love someone, but the thing is, he wouldn't like a serious relationship that much. Of course, he would like a partner that he likes and they should like him too, but he doesn't like it that much! He also likes his partner to be a little tough... Like just energetic and powerful! His ideal type is also very social! A lot of friends and very outgoing!

The Star R, AceoS R, AceoP, The World, Temperance

Here, the energy is sweeter haha! 🍧 Idk why, but this is lowkey giving 'mommy' haha. Jaehyun likes someone very beautiful like very attractive! I'm being honest with you the energy is very feminine! Like 😅 I'm very sure that he is into women. He likes a woman that also takes care of him. That is there for him. Again, someone that is smart and that can use their knowledge. He might also like someone that is kinda insecure/unsure sometimes so that he can be the one TO HELP HIS PARTNER OUT! I think this does soemthing to his ego. Like look at me being such a good partner.

Visuals

8oS, QueenoP R, QueenoS, The Hanged Man

He likes someone very tall!!! Not that cute looking! Sexy! He likes longer hair and also curls! Jaehyun is also very into natural beauty. Although he has a certain style that he likes he is open to a lot of people! He doesn't mind that much

PageoP R, 7oP R, 4oC, 8oS; The Tower

Again, I think he is very open to a lot of people. His ideal type is there, but he likes to have his options open. Again tall but also skinny/healthy weight. He is very much into pretty people! Like general public pretty! He has high standards for his ideal type! He cares a lot about one's appearance.

Long legs, tan, foreign, general public pretty, big ass, big boobs, skinny, toned, glasses, nice lips, long hair. Tyla is very close to his idealtype/style!!!

୨୧

© risathefairyofshampoo

[cybrs4pphic]

69ing with ellie omggggg 🫣

I ALMOST WROTE THIS LAST NIGHT😭😭

anywho 18+ mdni. fem!reader, pussy eating (both receiving), 69ing (obviously), uhhhh spit i uh um

when u n ellie 69 you’re always on top. you’d have to beg and beg and beg her to let her sit on ur face while she eats you out. but once you actually get ellie on top of you, it’s like entering the gates of heaven.

she’s straddling your face and you can just see how wet she is, glistening, so you do what any sane person would you— you lick a long stripe from her clit to her hole making ellie shudder. she takes that as her queue to start and begins to kiss your inner thighs inching closer and closer to your weeping cunt, but never really getting there. ellie would tease you all day if she could (she does). she just loves seeing you writhe and whimper out pleas for her:“pleaseplease ellie need your mouth please”

and she obliges, brushing her lips on your clit, starting to lap at all your wetness leaking out of u n u just grab her hips and pull her down onto your face finally getting what you’ve been begging for forever. as you take her clit into your mouth, all you feel is a glob of wetness hit yours as she goes in to finally eat it. “did yo-did you just spit on it?” you dont even really mean to say it out loud, but all you get is a muffled “maybe” sending vibrations straight to your core. all you can do is just moan against her causing her thighs to clench around your head.

though there’s music playing, the sounds of both of you eating each other out makes you both lightheaded with pleasure. you can tell she’s close by the way she’s pushing down onto your face and she can tell you’re close from the way you’re practically just using her mouth; she has her tongue out just letting you grind against it. she doesn’t even bother to hold your hips down like she usually would— too dizzy with pleasure she physically can’t do anything but focus on the way you’re lapping at her clit with intent. soon you’re coming on her tongue and she takes this opportunity to push your hips down and continue sucking and licking you through your orgasm til you’re twitching in sensitivity, attempting to close your legs moaning into her cunt.

once you’ve finished all your attention goes straight to ellie’s pussy. eating it like your life depends on it; her slick running down your face and neck and she’s so close by the way she’s letting out a plethora of moans and whimpers covering her mouth to try and muffle them, but you just continue if not more intensely that before. you feel her legs close around your head starting to inhibit your breathing but you dont even care you have one goal: make ellie come. and she does. ellie swears she died and went to heaven with how hard she came she doesn’t even hear you say, “how was that?” with the biggest smile on your face.

i wanna eat her out so BAD

[nachosforfree]

Do you have any tips or tricks for animating? I’ve been wanting to try getting into it but find it overwhelming to start

An easy way to cut corners is to just copy a frame and move things slightly

with the last two frames, theyre almost the exact same, except I've moved CC's head, arms, and hair all slightly, so when playing it, while not as smooth as it may be if i actually made a full inbetween frame, it still gives the look that he was transitioning from one pose to the next

When it comes to lipsyncing, it might be tempting to try and put all of the mouth shapes and syllables you know would be there in real life, but a lot of the time in animation, especially with fast speaking/singing, doing so looks odd, too slow, or too much on the eyes. having a program that can show you playback of your animation + audio while you're working on it can help you figure out if you might be making things take too long mouth wise.

Generally, these are the shapes I tend to go for when lipsyncing

A lot of looking natural may come down to making sure your proportions stay consistent (not accounting for squash and stretch frames, which will stray from proportion on purpose). a good way to prevent your character from starting long and ending short is to start with keyframes, and slowly work your way inwards with inbetween frames. but i am a naughty animator and often find this process boring, so i sometimes just do straight ahead animation where i figure it out as I go. this is probably a bad idea but i dont really care that much, sometimes having fun is all I'm looking for out of a drawing experience!

speaking of squash and stretch, they can matter a lot and are kind of similar what I did at the beginning with my CC frames. squash frames can give your character the illusion of weight, and stretch frames give the illusion of moving quickly

theyre a type of "smear" frame, but smear frames also come in more traditional, euh, smeary looking ways

uhhhh im not sure if any of this is properly explained, as I'm certainly not a professional, but I hope you can find it less of an overwhelming process! I think a good thing to do especially as a beginner is to start small. maybe even just practice ball drops and head turns before getting into anything with a huge amount of movement

[drewsbuzzcut]

https://www.tumblr.com/drewsbuzzcut/737096003153461248/nick-and-dallas-have-a-lot-of-morning-sex

Can we get a blurb

Love In The AM

nick moldenhauer x dallas blankenburg

a so it goes blurb

warnings: SMUTT

The insistent pounding of Dallas’ bed frame hitting the wall and Nick fucking her into her mattress is enough to wake up anyone else in the girl’s apartment. Good thing Sienna is always leaving early to start her day- she’d be scarred.

Dallas is clung onto Nick, arms looped around his neck and legs haphazardly wrapped around his waist as he holds her by her hips to fuck into her with a controlled ease. Their morning usually starts like this- Nick nestled in her pink blankets and her hands wandering all over his bare chest until he wakes up to satiate her.

“Fuck. Fuck. Oh my god, Nicky. I’m going to cum,” she whines, body arching up off the bed.

Her fingernails start to dig into his skin, and Nick feels the tightening of his balls as he feels his orgasm start to approach. When Dallas finally gains some control over her pleasure, she raises her body as much as she can so she can attach her lips to his neck. She sucks his skin into her mouth, nipping and licking at him until he’s whimpering just as she is.

“Cum baby. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so tight and so wet. I love it,” he moans, a stray finger circling her clit, making her writhe and cry out as she finally cums around his cock.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” she begs, hips meeting his movements- thrust for thrust.

He grabs her hands, pinning them down next to the pillow below her head, his hips moving at a sickening pace. She continuously flutters around his length, her cum dripping onto the bed sheets.

“Cum in me. Please, baby. I want your cum,” she releases her hands, locking them around the back of his neck as she whispers hotly in his ear. Her bare breasts press into his chest, and he can feel his sanity start to slip away.

He quickly pulls out, ripping off the condom and flipping them over so he’s on his back now.

“Uhhhh, you’re so big. I feel so full,” she whimpers when she sinks down on him, feeling his thick head prod at that spongy spot.

“If you keep squeezing me, I’m not going to last too long,” he warns her.

“I don’t care. Cum in me, baby,” she responds, rocking her hips back and forth with her hands pressed to his chest.

She knows he’s close, she can tell by the slight trembles in his body and the way he keeps tilting his head back. She grabs one of his hands, placing it on her lower abdomen, so he can feel just how full she is.

“You feel that, Nicky? That’s your big cock making me feel so full. Now, I just need your hot cum filling me up, marking me as yours. I’m yours, always, but just think about the way I’ll be dripping. When you’re at practice, I’ll be here in bed, in your shirt, dripping your cum from my pussy. Cum in me, baby,” she leans down, whispering in his ear and kissing down his neck.

His hips drill up into her, getting off on her cries and moans. He keeps her still on his length as he paints her insides, feeling another orgasm start to bubble with the way her pussy contracts around him.

“Oh my god,” he breathes out, forehead lined with sweat and a spent Dallas draped over his body. They’re both boneless.

“You’re so sexy,” she says, picking herself up with a wince at the feeling of his half hard cock stirring inside of her. She cards her fingers through his hair, leaning down to kiss his lips.

“I don’t think I can go to practice now. There’s no way I’m moving. Not when you’re warming my cock, and definitely not when I know my cum is inside your pretty, little pussy,” he says in between kisses.

“We should start every morning like this,” she suggests playfully.

“I’ll get kicked off the team,” he retorts.

“I don’t know. I think I’m worth it,” she muses, rocking her hips at a teasing pace.

“Hell yeah you are,” he agrees, flipping her back on her back, ready to go another round until his alarm clock eventually goes off. Maybe then, he’ll peel himself away from his insatiable girlfriend.

a/n: I really love this! Enjoy!

[motherjoel]

something special (part 2) (joel miller/reader)

part 2 to something special!! i recommend reading that first but tbh it doesn't matter too much

wc: 5.3k

warnings: fluffy and maybe a teensy bit angsty. uhhhh smut? oral f!receiving and pee pee in wee wee

a/n: omg like i wrote part one of this so long ago but I was struck with inspiration and horniness so I made a part 2!!! i hope you guys like this, it was really fun to write lmao BUT PLS don't be mad if its a little ooc and also ignore marias whole backstory cause reader is her sister and they didn't have parents so Jackson wasn't created by their dad idk the logistics just bear with me here.

PART ONE

-

His tongue skated lightly over your neck, his left hand resting firmly on the back of your head and his right on the sliver of bare skin between your t-shirt and pants. The kitchen counter was cold against your back, the granite digging into your spine. You let a soft moan escape your lips as he sucked a particularly sensitive part of your neck, prompting him to move his lips to your own with a growl. His hands migrated to your hips, tapping them to urge you to hop up onto the counter. As you move to slide up, his hands grip your waist and lift you the rest of the way. 

 You briefly break the kiss to situate yourself before diving back in, your core now warm against his stomach. You work to lift his shirt off, him returning the favor. Then, the doorbell rings. He doesn’t acknowledge it, but it doesn’t stop. You both try to ignore it, though it's persistent in its ringing.

You wake with a start, sweat now cooling on the back of your neck that makes you shiver. Your legs clench together in the aftermath of your dream, the telltale signs between your legs indicating what had just happened. You smile to yourself, noting that this is the first time you’ve dreamed in months. You’d much preferred this to the screaming and blood of your nightmares.

The doorbell continues to ring, and after a groan into your pillow, you stand and rub your eyes. You can’t tell if the dizziness you’re feeling is a consequence of the drinks you’d had or the dream you’d had. Either way, you push it aside to open the door.

“Jesus, you look like shit,” Maria chuckles as she pushes herself inside your house, carrying a heavily packed tote bag. 

“Thanks, it's a new look I'm trying,” you turn away from her to head to the kitchen for a glass of water as she makes herself comfortable.

“Well I’m sure Joel would love it,” she smirks, seating herself at the kitchen table. You blush at the thought of the man you’d been dreaming of moments before. 

“God, last night was…” you shake your head, “did I embarrass myself?” you ask with a wince. Maria snorts a laugh.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I think you made… quite the impression. Or at least, that's what Tommy said,” she begins to unpack the bag she brought. Inside is the biggest breakfast sandwich you’ve ever seen and some coffee grounds. You’d told Maria you needed more just yesterday, and her thoughtful ass just had to get you some. You almost rolled your eyes at the level of thoughtfulness.

“Wait… Tommy? Did he talk to Joel? What did Joel say? Does he… what does he think of me? Did I embarrass myself? Oh my god, Maria, he probably thinks i'm crazy,” you rant, waiting for her to interrupt you. She watches, almost too amused to stop you.

“Yes, yes. Tommy talked to Joel... which I’m not happy about, by the way!” she pauses to give you a look, but you groan, urging her to continue. “Okay, okay. He said… he said something about you being ‘special’. Tommy thinks he’s a goner,” Maria scoffs and moves to the old coffee pot you have on the counter to make a fresh pot. 

“Oh… thats… wow,” you can’t quite find the words you’re looking for. You feel like a blushing schoolgirl. 

“Yeah, well…” Maria pauses, both of her hands on the counter as she thinks. She turns back to you. “Just… be careful, yeah?” you furrow your brows at her words.

“What do you mean? I’m a grown adult, I think I can handle myself,” you feel yourself getting frustrated at her words, as if she doesn’t have any confidence in your own abilities.

“I know you can handle yourself. You’re an independant badass, we’re all aware,” she raises her hands in defense as you give her a small smile. “I just mean… It's Joel. Tommy told me some things about him… things he did before he came here, and-” you cut her off.

“Alright, I don’t need to hear this. Maria, seriously, we all did things to survive! I’m definitely not somebody to judge,” you lower your head, flashes of pre-Jackson floating through your head.

“I know, I’m just saying. Be careful, alright?” you nod before grabbing your sandwich and sitting at the table.

“Alright,” you take a bite of the sandwich and let out a moan. “Fuck that’s good. Okay, so what else did Tommy say?”

-

Joel forgot what a hangover felt like. He’d vaguely remembered the head-pounding nausea of his youth, but a memory is nothing like the real thing. The real thing was much, much worse.

As he lies in his bed, thumb and pointer finger pinching the bridge of his nose, he recounts the previous night. He remembers the vitriol spewing from that man's lips and he can't help but mentally thank him for facilitating your encounter. He remembers the bottle of pinot noir, particularly the way it tasted on your tongue. He smiles to himself, the unfamiliar butterflies in his stomach unsettling him as much as exciting him. He needed to see you, and soon. Maybe if he got the courage to leave the house.

Before he can make up his mind, his doorbell rings. With a groan, he stands from his bed. Damn knees. After taking a moment to steady himself, he makes his way down the stairs. He glances at his coffee pot, noting the lack of coffee grounds. He softly curses to himself, realizing he’ll have to figure out how to get some. Tommy had given him a tour of the town when he first arrived to officially settle in, but he’s realizing just how little he’d absorbed. 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he swings open his door to see you. You, with your shy smile and your bright eyes. You wear a loose-fitting flannel, and jealousy tugs at his gut as he thinks about who’s flannel that could be. Butterflies soon replace the jealousy as he imagines that it’s his own. His own, meaning he could probably take it off himself. You open your mouth to speak, cutting him off from his thoughts.

“Here,” you stretch out your arm. Joel notices, for the first time, a mug of black coffee in your hand. His mouth opens a bit as he gasps softly, hoping that you didn't hear. “It’s a bitch trying to get coffee grounds around here, but I figured I’d share my stash,” you shrugged, still holding the mug out with an awkward smile. He reaches for it, your fingers grazing as he grabs the warm mug.

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, taking a small sip and rolling his eyes back into his head. “Jesus, that's good,” he chuckles softly before taking another sip.

You watch him drink, his throat bobbing as he sips. His lips glisten with the coffee, and it takes all of your willpower not to taste them yourself. You look down to the white t-shirt he’s wearing, tufts of hair poking out of the top. His flannel pajama pants make you giggle- he looks like someone's father. Someone's sexy father.

“Something funny?” he raises his eyebrow before taking another sip, savoring the bitterness he’d missed so dearly.

“No, nothing it's just… you look cute when you wake up,” you blush, eyeing the way his hand rests on his hip. His shirt rides up under his hand, the small sliver of skin like a car crash you can’t stop looking at.

“Cute? I look… cute?” Joel raises his eyebrows more, if even possible. He can’t recall a woman ever calling him cute. Certainly not a woman he was… interested in. 

“You know what I mean,” you nudge his arm before pulling your hand back, crossing your arms so as not to touch him more than you already had. Joel didn’t really know what you mean.

“Well, you do, too. Look cute, I mean,” he scratches the back of his neck, studying the freckles on your face. The way they move when you talk and smile. You’re gorgeous and it makes Joel realize just how out of his element he is. He feels himself grow cold, ice freezing over the warm puddle you turned his heart into. “I have to, uh,” he points his thumb inside, desperately thinking of an excuse to get away from you so he could calm the beating of his heart. He fails to think of one.

“Oh,” your face falls a bit but you quickly plaster a smile on your face. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” you turn on your heel, the warmth of embarrassment creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks. 

Jesus, what were you thinking? This man has a daughter and at least 10 years on you. Those things didn’t matter to you whatsoever, especially now, but they probably mattered to him, right? You shake your head as you approach the stables, ready for a day of work. As much as you love human interaction, you really loved working with the horses. They obviously can’t judge you, so you tell them all of your problems as a way of working things out. 

You approached Jessa, a filly born about a year ago. She was completely brown except for a few white spots on her head and around her ankles. You call them her boots. 

“What am I gonna do here, Jess?” you frown, opening her stall and taking a seat on a milk crate next to her. She whinnies softly. “I know, I know, I’m crazy, right?” Jessa huffs. “We were drunk, Jess. It was a mistake, I guess,” you stand, pet her head, and leave her to see Joel standing awkwardly at the front of the stables. Your heart drops at the possibility of him overhearing you. He fidgets before speaking up. 

“I’m supposed to meet Tommy,” he murmurs, looking anywhere but you.

“Oh. What for?” you ask, noting the accidental edge in your own voice. Joel's eyebrows pinch together at your tone.

“Uh, patrol. Training,” he clears his throat. “About, um, earlier,” he starts, taking a small step closer to you. Before he continues, Tommy enters. 

“Well, hello there, lovebirds,” Tommy strides through the stables confidently, a stark contrast to his brother. He ruffles the hair on your head and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes at his brotherly nature. You choose to ignore his nickname for the two of you, opting to help them get their horses for patrol.

“So, you trainin’ him?” you ask, reaching to grab the saddles from the wall. Joel doesn’t miss the way your shirt rides up. 

“Yeah, gettin’ the old man ready to start pulling some weight around here,” he smirks when Joel visibly rolls his eyes. 

“Ah, well, good luck out there,” you smile and hand Tommy the reins, ignoring Joel completely. Tommy raises an eyebrow but chooses to stay silent, thanking you and leading Joel to the gates.

-

Joel was never a smooth man. Even in his prime, he didn’t date much. It's not like he had much of a prime, what with having Sarah so young. He wouldn’t have traded her for the world, but it's a simple fact. Joel was out of his element. He’s kicking himself from the second you walk away. How did he fuck up so badly?

As he shuts the door, he turns to see Ellie at the kitchen table, watching his every move.

“When the hell’d you get here?” he starts, eyeing down Ellie who is currently staring him down with wide eyes.

“Like 20 minutes ago, you walked right past me,” she shrugged and took a bite of the granola bar in front of her. She speaks before swallowing “the fuck was that, by the way?” she questions. Joel grimaces.

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth. S’impolite,” he walks past her to sit on his couch, mug of coffee in his hands. He studies the mug, ceramic and plain for the most part, aside from the brown owl on the front. He wonders if he’s going to give it back to you. 

“That was Maria’s sister, right? The one from last night?” she smirks at the shock on his face.

“How the hell’d you-” he starts before she cuts him off.

“Come on Joel. First of all, the front porch? Not exactly a private venue,” she starts, shoving more of the granola into her mouth. Joel groans in annoyance. “Second, my friend Dina told me she saw you guys at the Tipsy Bison. She said there was totally some chemistry,” she laughs.

“Friend? Who is she? Can I meet ‘er?” Joel perks up at her words, excited that she has a friend, but also trying to get out of the conversation they’re having.

“Yeah, she's really cool. I met her at movie night, she- wait, no you're not getting out of this!” She stands from the table to join him on the couch.

“There is no ‘this’. I’m pretty sure she wants nothing to do with me now,” Joel traces his fingers over the grooves in his mug. Your mug. Ellie rolls her eyes.

“What do you mean? Y’all were totally getting it on,” she laughs, as he shoves the side of her arm, trying to hide his smirk.

“Y’all? What’re you, a cowboy?” he huffs a laugh. 

“Learned from the best,” she gives him a cheeky grin. “I think… maybe you should talk to her. Adults are so dumb, like, half of the world's problems could be solved by just talking to each other,” she furrows her brows for a moment. “Well, except for the whole ‘infected’ thing. That’d probably take a bit more.” Joel can’t help but laugh at her train of thought. 

“Maybe I will,” Joel pats her knee and stands up, setting the mug in the sink. He’d probably give it to Maria to return to you. 

He didn’t plan on trying to talk to you again. He’d just screw it up, he thought. Images of you were scattered throughout his mind all morning, and he was kicking himself for his lack of social skills. Before he could kick himself anymore, he saw you. He’d had no idea you ran the stables. If he’d known, maybe he could have prepared himself. Maybe think of a few words to say. Instead, he was his usual, awkward self. 

The patrol goes how he’d expected it to. Tommy notices he’s quieter than usual, which is saying a lot. The route they took was empty except for a small group of runners that they took out with ease. Joel just wants to be in his bed, asleep. He doesn’t want to have to think. He’s afraid he won't be able to get back as soon as he’d hoped, Tommy leaving him alone at the stables to return the horses. Tommy had said something about ‘getting home to the old ball and chain’ that made Joel roll his eyes, but he relented nevertheless. 

His heart pinches in worry when he doesn’t immediately see you. He figures it's for the best- the horses are already in their stalls, and maybe he can just sneak out without checking in with you. He’s about to do just that when he hears raised voices coming from your small office. He quietly walks closer to the door, trying to listen in.

“I told you, I’m sorry!” he hears a male voice echo under the door, and it’s familiar. He wracks his brain to figure out who it was.

“Justin, I told you it’s fine! I don’t care! I’m sorry, but I’m not interested anyway,” he hears your voice now, smooth as silk. His heart skips a beat.

“You’re only saying that because you don’t know me, baby,” he feels disgust at the male voice now, recognizing it as the man from last night. He fights every urge inside of him to not burst inside that room right now. 

“Hey, get off me!” he hears you yell. His fight to suppress his urges is completely gone as he hears you in distress, slamming the door open to the sight of you pinned against your desk, this ‘Justin’ guy grabbing your wrist with a bruising pressure.

“The hells goin on here?” Joel asks, chest heaving.

“None of your business, old man. We were just… talking, right?” Justin smirks to you. Joel notices the fear in your eyes and his heart cracks a bit.

“Um… right, yeah. It’s fine, Joel,” you say, unconvincingly. You widen your eyes to urge him to leave. As if he ever would. 

“How bout we all go home, yeah?” Joel asks, taking a step closer. Justin takes this as a threat, releasing you to turn to face Joel.

“And what if we don’t want to, huh?” Justin crosses his arms. Joel looks down at him, grateful for the 2 or 3 inches he has on him.

“Oh, I think you want to,” Joel says sternly. Justin takes this as an opportunity to push his shoulders, slamming him into the wall behind him. Joel is taken off guard, but he can’t help but chuckle. “You didn’t want to do that, kid.”

“Seriously, man? All this for some bitch who doesn’t even put out?” Justin smirks as if he’d won the argument. Without skipping a beat, Joel's fist is in his face, knocking him to the ground. You yelp, jumping out of the way.

“Fuck, dude!” Justin yells from the ground grabbing his bleeding and possibly broken nose. Joel shakes his hand, stretching his fingers. His knuckles fucking hurt, but its hard to focus on that when he sees the way you’re looking at him.

“Get the fuck out,” you robotically say to Justin.

“But- h-he-” he tries to speak.

“I said get the fuck out!” you raise your voice, pulling him off of his feet and pushing him out the door. Joel watches him like a hawk as he leaves, ready to punch him a million more times if he needed to. The two of you stand in silence for a few moments  before you decide to speak up.

“How was patrol?” you ask, fidgeting with your hands. He huffs a laugh, taking you by surprise. “What?” you smile slightly.

“Nothing, it's just… after everything that just happened, you’re asking me about patrol?” he looks into your eyes, noticing the heat in them. He’s sure he has the same look in his own.

“Are you… okay?” you ask, ignoring his question. 

“You’re asking me if I’m okay?” he asks, incredulous. You nod, with an mmhmm. You bite your lip and Joel isn’t sure if it's the adrenaline or if he finally grew some balls, but he surges forward and in a single step, he has your face cradled in his hands. 

“I-is this… okay?” he whispers against your lips, feeling your hot breath on his own. You nod before reaching up to clutch his flannel in your hands, pulling his lips to your own. Joel unwittingly moans into the kiss. He fucking moans. He’s almost mortified. Almost. When you moan in response, he’s only urged on further, slowly walking you backwards until your ass is pressed against the desk. He taps the side of your hip, motioning for you to hop up. You separate for all of 3 seconds, settling  on the desk, when his lips are back on yours. 

You whine into his mouth, spurring him further. He fiddles with the bottom of your flannel, itching to rip it off but maintaining some restraint. Before he can think too deeply, you reach out to the bottom button of his own flannel. 

“S’this- this ok-kay?” you ask between breaths. 

“More’n okay, darling,” he smiles softly, leaning down to kiss your neck while you work on the buttons. You giggle at the sensation. “What?” Joel asks with a small smile.

“It’s hard to… focus… when… ahhh,” Joel reattaches his lips to your neck with a smile. He feels like a teenager again, kissing his crush in secret. It’s thrilling to him, really.

You’ve never been more turned on in your entire life. You thought that dream had made you insanely wet, but Jesus, this was something else. You do finally manage to get his shirt off, leaving him in a white t-shirt. He continues to fiddle with your shirt, causing you to pull back for a moment. He furrows his eyebrows, wondering if he did something wrong. You whip your shirt over your head, leaving you in only your plain black bra. You wish you’d worn something lacy and pretty, but considering there wasn't a Victoria’s Secret nearby, you weren’t that upset. 

It’s been a very long time for Joel. Though he was out of practice, he was pretty sure he remembered what to do. He certainly didn’t have a hard time showing how much he wanted you, his erection painfully strained against his pants. Women liked that, right? But, you weren’t just any woman. You were… something else. At the sight of you in just your bra and jeans, Joel knew he was done for. And your smile, that damned smile… it felt like worship in a world without faith. 

You wanted more, so you took it. Reaching to the hem of his white t-shirt, you lifted to pull his shirt off so that you’re skin to skin. The first thing you notice is how fucking warm he was. The next thing you noticed was his scar-riddled chest. You trace them softly with your fingers, the raised skin smooth against you. He looks down at you, his eyes softening as you observe his body. 

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, looking up to meet his eyes. He laughs softly.

“You’re one to talk,” he says before taking your lips against his again. He feels spurred on by your words and actions- he now has no doubt now that you want this as badly as him. 

“Take my pants off, Joel,” you smirk, unbuttoning them yourself to give him a head start. He laughs before pulling them down the rest of the way leaving you in your underwear and bra. He reaches his hand forward, mouth slack as he presses his hand against your core, palming you over your underwear.

“Mmmmmfuck,” you moan, head bobbing onto his shoulder.

“This alright?” he asks, restraining a moan at the dampness of your underwear.

“Please, keep going,” you grind into the palm of his hand.

Without hesitation, he traces his hand up your mound, purposely putting pressure on your clit, before reaching the hem of your underwear and sliding his fingers under, finally feeling you. He moans at the wetness collected between your legs, amazed at how turned on you are from him. He collects that wetness and brings it up to your clit where he rubs in painfully slow circles. You buck your hips into his hand, and he chuckles- its low and gravelly, his own arousal preventing him from putting on a steel front. 

“Fuck, darlin’ you’re so wet,” he whispers into your ear. You can barely hear him, your own heartbeat thrumming in your ears. As you’re about to speak, he slowly slips a finger inside you. You let out a loud moan, biting your lip to stifle the noise.

“S’okay baby, make some noise for me,” his movements maintain their place as he drops to his knees. You stiffen.

“J-Joel, what’re you doing?” you pull at his hair so he looks up at you. It gives him goosebumps. 

“What’s it look like I'm doin’, sweetheart? Need’ta taste ya,” he licks his lips as he looks at your core, knowing he’d never see anything as beautiful as this again in his life. You freeze at his words.

“Oh, you don't have to…” you look away from him shyly. He stands at this, hand still moving between your legs.

“Oh, I want to. Please, baby, I want to,” he says to you, pleads almost. Guys had never asked to go down on you before, and you’d never pushed for it. It was nerve wracking- you considered telling Joel this. But the look on his face was enough- you can’t help but relent. 

“Mmhm, okay,” you nod and he smiles, sinking to his knees again. 

He doesn’t even notice the way his knees creak or how uncomfortable the hardwood floor is on them. He just needs to taste you. The moment his mouth is on you, he moans. The vibrations cause a jolt of lightning up your spine. 

“Fuck, s’good,” he says against your thigh before kissing it and diving back in. This time he lifts one of his hands to slip a finger inside, the sensation causing you to lift your legs to rest on his shoulders. You hoped you weren’t squeezing too hard, but the thought was fleeting as his free arm shot up to wrap around your thigh and pull you closer.

The familiar sensation of your core tightening and your vision blurring hit you like a truck. No man had ever made you come before, and certainly not within less than 10 minutes of seeing each other. The orgasm swells to a peak, your thighs clenching on either side of Joel’s head as he moans into you. The aftershocks hit almost as hard as the initial shock, and you don’t realize it's over until the overstimulation of Joel sets in. He was still going absolutely crazy, drinking you in like his life depended on it.

“Ah, fuck,” you hiss at the oversensitivity and he immediately pulls away to ask if you’re okay. “I’m fine,” you laugh. “I’m perfect, actually. Jesus Christ,” you laugh again as he stands, pulling you to the edge of the desk so your clothed core is pressed against his jeans, leaving a dark spot over his crotch. “I’ve never… done that,” you confess shyly.

“Done what?” he asks, cocking his head.

“Been eaten out. And also, I guess, have a man give me an orgasm,” you giggle, mind loose. His expression hardens.

“Wait… what?” he looks at you, concern in your eyes.

“I mean, no guy has ever wanted to before. It’s no big deal,” you shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“Baby, it is a big deal. Because how any man could deny that… there has to be something wrong with him. A big deal of something wrong with him,” Joel laughs with you, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Can you please fuck me, Joel?” you ask with a cock of your head and a pout on your lips. Joel almost trips in trying to take his pants off and you can't help but giggle.

“Oh, you won't be laughing soon, darlin’” he chuckles before pulling his cock out from his underwear. It’s huge, obviously, because why wouldn’t it be. It’s the biggest you’d ever seen, and you can't help but lift your hand up to grab it, stroking it to the tufts of hair at the base. “Won’t be lastin’ too long if you keep that up,” Joel grimaces with a hiss. You smirk as you grab him and lead him to your entrance, pressing the tip to you.

“Start slow, okay?” you ask, worry filling your gut. It had been awhile, and with a man as well endowed as Joel, you couldn’t help but have some worries. 

“I promise,” he chuckles before pushing it in, just the tip. The two of you gasp in harmony, your arms shooting to wrap around his shoulders. “Y’okay?” he asks, bringing his hand up to your cheek. 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, “keep going, please.”

“Okay, baby, I gotcha,” he pushes himself further, and before you know it, you can feel his tufts of hair against you as he bottoms out. He’s breathing heavy and ragged as you lean up to capture him in a kiss. He tries his best not to move, to let you adjust, but his restraint is like a rubber band about to snap. Before it does, he feels you move closer to him, urging him to start moving. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

He begins slowly, moving his hips back and forth. You squeeze him perfectly, your wetness allowing him to move with ease. His hands moved to your hips, then your breasts, your face- he was all over you. It took everything in you to keep your eyes open, but the eye contact he was making was worth it. When he wasn’t kissing parts of you, he was watching you. Whether it was your eyes, your lips, or your breasts, he was watching you. He only closed his eyes when he blinked. You were used to guys digging their faces into your shoulder and finishing in 30 seconds. Everything about Joel was… so much more.

He flattens his palm on your stomach above your mound, feeling himself inside of you. Slowly, he moves his hand up your chest to squeeze your nipple. You unexpectedly gasp and arch your back, urging him to continue. His other hand snakes from your waist to your clit as he begins to rub in circles.

“Need’ya to finish with me, darlin’” he whispers in your ear.

“O-okay. M’close,” you manage to squeak out, his hands doing so much to you. 

“F-fuck,” Joel lets out a groan as he tries to maintain his pace to get you off. The second he feels you clenching around him, however, he speeds up. As he’s about to come, he quickly pulls out and spills onto your stomach, chest heaving as he leans over you. He wishes he’d had a camera to capture the view in front of him right now

You’re breathless and sweaty beneath him when you come to. His length lay on your stomach, twitching as he came down. The two of you remain this way for what feels like an eternity before he stands up fully, grabbing a box of tissues from your desk and proceeding to clean you up.

He reaches his hand out to you and you take it, hopping off of the desk. Grabbing the discarded clothes from the floor, he motions for you to lift your arms over your head so he can slide your flannel over you. Only it's not your flannel, but his. He doesn’t comment on this as he puts your flannel on himself, the usually oversized fit you’re used to fitting him perfectly

You reach up to fiddle with his hair, the curls messy atop his head. His lips part but he stays silent, watching you bite your lip in focus.

“There,” you smile. “Better.” 

Joel isn't sure what to do with his hands now, the soft ticking of a clock on your wall filling the noise. He feels heat creep up the back of his neck when he recounts what you’d just done. In public.

“Coffee?” you ask, playing with the hem of your new shirt.

“Hm?” he snaps his head to you, daze broken. 

“I said ‘coffee’? Like, the drink?” you giggle.

“What about coffee?” he asks. He knows you’re probably inviting him over, but he just wants to hear you talk. 

“Ugh, just come home with me, Miller,” you laugh and grab his hand, leading him out of the stables. 

He follows you to your house, your hands intertwined the whole walk. Neither of you acknowledge this as your conversation flows as easily as if you’d known each other for years. He stays at your house for hours, enjoying his coffee almost as much as he’s enjoying you. You both realize around the same time just how enamored you were with each other. Though neither of you are sure how to feel, Joel knows now that he can’t lose you. Ever.

[aquaquadrant]

Why do I feel like Etho and Patho would actually really get along well. Like there'd be a minute of "oh shit" then they'd be making some weird machine together.

Also any chance you would be willing to share the story about Patho's clock and maybe info on Hels Bdubs?

(honestly? true. patho isn’t bothered enough w the concept of being a doppelgänger so he’d be chill w etho if etho was chill with him. and etho’s like. always chill. anyway idk if this’ll answer ur questions but here’s uhhhh something)

~*~

patho pauses at the top of the netherrack hill, boots hissing briefly as he shifts off a magma block.

xyz: -12,485.167 / 67.09835 / 253,295.942

the coordinates ever-present within his field of view tell him he should be another hundred or so blocks away in the z axis, but he can already see the jungle’s grown since his last visit. it’s been slowly overtaking the neighboring nether waste biome for a couple decades, now. rate of growth has held constant, unchanging. that's something, at least.

patho slowly scans the horizon. words and numbers flash across the left half of his vision as his cybernetic eye rapidly processes new information based on visual input: netherrack, netherrack, crimson nylium, grass, jungle wood, jungle wood, jungle leaves, weeping vine. light level 3, 3, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4. there's a lava pool eleven blocks over in the x axis; light level 15.

he starts walking again.

153 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 23/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 18 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -12,487.331 / 65.21091 / 253,375.987 block: -12,487 65 253,375 chunk: -780 15 7,835 facing: south (towards positive z)(1.5/5) client light: 5 (0 sky, 5 block) biome: error:nether waste local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 5/247 + 0/8

the data shifts with every step. he's learned to tune most of it out by now, only paying attention to the biome indicator as he crosses the chunk threshold.

biome: error:crimson jungle

particles and sounds immediately jump up a couple degrees. glowing red specks dance slowly in the air, mingling with the ambient noises; hoglins rooting around in the brush, parrots calling unseen from the canopy above, lava bubbling in a pool nearby.

p: 35 sounds: 23/247

the temperature is warmer here. patho shrugs off his jacket, letting it hang at his elbows as he picks his way through the jungle. he doesn't even need to think about where he's going, coordinates left ignored at the edge of his vision. he's taken this path many times before, and he never has to wander very long.

his boots crunch softly on the nylium and grass terrain. jungle leaves and crimson fungus alike brush at his shoulders as he ducks underneath branches, taking care not to get tangled in weeping vines.

this is his favorite jungle. it's not the only crimson jungle he's ever come across- not to mention the warped jungles- but out of all the biomes he's seen, it's the one with the greenest leaves. something about this jungle sustains the normal trees just as well as it does the fungi, allowing the grass and leaves to stay bright and full instead growing in wilted and brown. it makes a lovely contrast with the blood red fungi.

not for the first time, he's thankful that the jungle is far enough away from spawn to be left alone. if other players knew about this place, with its well-sustained passive mob spawning and greenery, they'd destroy it for resources for sure. but he never worries too much about that possibility, because no mob or player sets foot in this jungle without permission from-

a weeping vine suddenly sprouts from the ground and lashes around patho's leg.

it's quickly joined by several more, snaking out from the undergrowth to wrap around his other limbs. before he can blink, he's lifted off the ground and pulled up into the trees. he doesn't struggle, doesn't panic- this is nothing new to him. the vines string him up among the highest branches, where a familiar figure is crouched in front of him, nothing but a pair of glowing red eyes beneath a heap of moss.

<player>dat -7063fdce-39ac-4a12-d836-a990c45b2bb0

"hey, dbubs," patho says casually.

the figure straightens up, hood falling back to reveal his face. his huge red eyes are sparkling with excitement, despite the dark circles lining them, and his mouth falls open in a wide, sharp-toothed grin. vines of varying shapes and sizes curl lazily around his body, small tendrils sprouting from the mossy cloak he wears. a couple veins of red discolor his skin, crawling up his neck and across his face. his messy hair is a bit whiter than the last time patho saw him, tinged red at the roots. a clock hangs around his neck, to match the one hanging from patho's hip.

"patho!" dbubs practically shouts, throwing his arms out.

sounds: 24/247

before dbubs can say anything else, patho asks his usual question. “what’s your name?”

“what’s my-” dbubs blinks, works his jaw for a second. “GODSLAYER666,” he proclaims loudly, puffing his chest out. then he pauses, frowns. “wait, no, i- i don’t know why i just said that. uh…”

it’s somewhere in the middle, then. not as bad as his worst days- at least he’s aware he’s lying, even if he has no control over it. and patho has to admit, that's one of the most entertaining responses dbubs has ever given to his little test.

"uh huh." patho shifts in the web of vines. they're holding a bit tighter than normal. of course, he could still easily break out of them. if he wanted to. "did you miss me, dbubs?" he asks instead, his voice teasing.

dbubs throws his head back to let out a sharp laugh, sending a shower of red particles fluttering through the air. "what?" he demands incredulously, his eyes blown wide. "miss you? i d- eugh, n'you stupid- i- i didn't even notice you were gone!"

patho hums with amusement. "then you don't wanna, like, kiss me or anything?"

"no," dbubs insists stubbornly, even as he comes closer. he steps boldly into patho's space, hands coming up to grab his face. "no, no of course not, i don't..." his long eyelashes flutter as he looks patho up and down. he smells like moss; like old vegetation and decay. there's soil and dried blood caked under his fingernails. "why would i- you ha- you have a lotta nerve..." dbubs tugs at the left strap of patho's mask, tilting his head. "do i- uh, do i get to see ya?" he asks, expression suddenly eager.

"yeah," patho chuckles.

dbubs grins widely, pulling patho's mask down. for a moment, he just looks at him. his calloused hand scuffs along the metal parts of patho's face- the entire ramus of his left mandible and most of his cheekbone, lost in the explosion that took his eye. the remaining skin is rough with scar tissue. dbubs strokes his thumb along that, too.

"i lo- um, i- i hate your stupid face," dbubs mumbles before he finally kisses patho. he seems to process his words a second later, breaking away with a small gasp of "oh! i d-", but patho simply leans in again, reclaiming his lips.

he knows what dbubs meant.

~*~

dbubs spares patho the trouble of walking, simply having the vines carry him to the hideaway. it's a difficult base to categorize: part tree house, part nest, part garden. in some places the floor is made of wood- in others, just a thick layer of leaves. there are potted plants and hanging vines everywhere, interspersed among stacks of barrels and moldy bookcases. little red mushrooms sprout from walls made of thatch and tree trunks. a couple of shroomlights provide gentle lighting as glittery particles drift through the open air; red, from the biome itself, and green from the spore blossom that patho brought him last year.

the vines unceremoniously drop patho onto the makeshift bed- a mat of moss and old, shredded banners. he's barely gotten settled, pulling his mask up and pulling his jacket off, before dbubs flops onto him with a heavy wuff.

"so!" dbubs starts loudly, propping his elbows up on patho's stomach. "what brings ya to see ol' dbubs today, huh?"

patho huffs a laugh. "what, i can't just stop by to say hi?"

"oh sure, okay." dbubs rolls his eyes, one of his vines flicking through the air dismissively. "you j- yeah, okay, be all secretive, then! see if i care." his haughty demeanor doesn't last long, though, as he shimmies up a little further, arms folded on patho's chest. "d'you- uh, do you wanna hear what i've been doin'?"

patho sighs good-naturedly, shifting so he can tuck his arms behind his head and lean back against the wall. "alright, go ahead."

dbubs beams at him and immediately starts telling lies. he tells patho about all the amazing things he's built (the jungle looks the same), all the incredible battles he's fought (no one's entered the jungle in years), all the wonderful places he's gone (he can't leave the jungle).

but patho doesn't mind that it's all lies. he's content to listen anyways.

they carry on like this until dbubs suddenly pauses, scrambling for his clock. "uh oh! gotta schreep."

patho glances at his own clock; dbubs is right on time, as always. that's one thing he never lies about. "okay, okay," he says, pushing dbubs off- he hits the moss with a soft thump. "lemme get my anchor."

"well, hurry up already!" dbubs shouts impatiently, vines swatting at patho's arm as he pops down his ender chest.

after placing the anchor and setting his spawn, patho reaches up and presses his finger directly into the center of his left eye, shutting it off.

he doesn’t regret putting a data processor into his cybernetic eye; the information it’s given him is invaluable. but every now and then, he needs a break from it. even when his eyes are closed, the display is still active, showing blank values on the back of his eyelid. turning the eye off is the only way to make it go away- of course, at the price of half his vision. so he only does it if he’s sleeping somewhere fully secure, and if he’s alone.

the jungle is an exception. dbubs has full domain out here- no mob or player can come close to his home without him allowing it.

"finally," dbubs huffs as patho settles back down. he's quick to cling with both his arms and assorted vines.

patho can't help but chuckle. "what's that you said about not missing me?"

"oh, shut up!"

~*~

patho abruptly reenters consciousness, emerging from a deep, dreamless sleep. with a soft groan, he fumbles to turn on his cybernetic eye, wincing at the sudden influx of data.

149 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 1/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 52 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -12,587.412 / 96.77253 / 253,401.623 block: -12,587 96 253,401 chunk: -783 15 7,845 facing: north (towards negative z)(1.5/5) client light: 7 (0 sky, 7 block) biome: error:crimson jungle local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 27/247 + 0/8

"goooood morning!" dbubs calls, over on the other side of the little nook. he's busy rummaging through barrels, perhaps trying to find some breakfast. it’s unlikely he has any food stored; when he’s hungry, he hunts, and the jungle always provides.

"mornin'," patho says, rubbing his face. he sits up- and then pauses. there are weeping vines wrapped tightly around his legs. he sighs. “dbubs, you’re doing it again.”

“what?" dbubs manages to sound surprised. "no! no, i’m not, i’m- i’m just over here, minding my own business, crafting a loom.”

“a loom,” patho repeats flatly.

“yes! for um, for banners.”

“do you even have any wool?”

“do i ha- uh, of course! yes, of course i do.”

“can i see it?”

“no. no, i- i just ate it, actually. um-”

“you ate it?”

“yeah. sorry.”

patho sighs again. he kicks the weeping vines away. "i uh, i didn't mean to be gone for so long," he says, rising to his feet. "but, you know, i- i got held up with a job."

"a job?" dbubs glances over his shoulder at patho, squinting. "what kinda job?"

patho stretches his arms above his head, hearing both his natural and mechanical shoulder joints pop. "some guys out west are tryin' to make a portal out of hels."

"a portal?" dbubs's mouth falls open. "oh, for goodness sakes- and you call me a liar!"

patho knows better than to take offense. "it's true. they've got a player who came here from another world."

"uh huh." dbubs scoffs, but he can't quite hide the anxious shimmer in his eyes. "yeah, yeah, sure... so- i mean, did you do it, then? make them a portal?"

"basically." patho shrugs. "i uh, i told them everything they needed to know, to make one."

"right. you told th- okay." dbubs nods, bites his lip. "um- you didn't stay? to see the portal? or, uh…”

patho chuckles, crossing the distance to put his arms around dbubs's waist. "nah. i mean, come on, you know me, dbubs. i'm a- i'm a hels player, through and through. what's the rest of the universe got that's better than this place, right?"

dbubs grins at that, slotting his arms through patho's. "oh, you- you're such an idiot! y'know, i uh, i've been outside'a hels before and i- um, let me tell ya, you're missing out!"

"mhmm." patho smiles even though his mask is on. he knows dbubs can tell.

"yeah! "dbubs nods vigorously. "and, uh, there's- i got a whole world that's just mine!"

"is that right?" patho rests his chin on the top of dbubs's head. "tell me about it."

"it's a beautiful world, of course. my perfect builds, i ha-"

"of course."

"- uh, hey! quit interruptin'!"

"sorry, sorry."

"i di- thank you. so i um, i built a big ol' crastle, with a- hyeugh, a sorta um, horse course... y'know, with th- with the fastest horses anyone ever saw, one-stick horses, and- and uh, everyone was really impressed…”

this won’t last forever. it’ll only be a matter of weeks, months if they’re lucky, before patho won’t be able to ignore the itch to wander again. before the comfort and familiarity of the jungle becomes unbearable. before dbubs grows so used to his presence that the jungle itself tries to overtake him, the way it has dbubs- vines and veins of red.

he’ll leave without warning in the middle of the night, while dbubs is sleeping, because trying to leave while dbubs is awake never ends well. he’ll leave without a word and try not to think about the frantic whispers he knows dbubs sends him on lonely nights, despite knowing patho will never receive them (it’s the only time he regrets fusing his communicator with his arm- but how was he supposed to know he’d hear it in his mind? how was he supposed to know that disabling the chat was the only way not to lose himself completely to the endless flood of data?)

he’ll stay away long enough for dbubs to shatter apart, losing himself to the wildness of the jungle, and come back together. he’ll wait until dbubs has recovered from his grief, so that the next time dbubs sees him there will only be joy. because no matter how many times patho hurts him, dbubs always forgets it eventually.

“… so, you see, ol’ dbubs been workin' on a new technique, using the uh. grade- uh, gradient? block palettes... to create depth. ah hah! so- so listen, now, to teacher! it all starts with the color scheme..."

this won’t last forever. so for now, patho closes his eyes and listens.

error fps t: b: tx rx c: (s) d: , pc: , pu: , ab: e: , b: , sd: p: t: error fc: xyz: / / block: chunk: facing: ( )( / ) client light: ( sky, block) biome: error: local difficulty: // (day error404 not found) sounds: 1/247 + 0/8

~*~

[falling-star-cygnus]

Heard you’re suffering artblock and want requests so uhhhh—

Alastor helping Lucifer with molting season?

i love you for this, dewflake :0

uhhh, i wrote this and then reread your ask and only just now realized it says art block and not writers block... hope you don't mind?

your pfp tho oml <3

{Alastor sneezes.}

{The feather that had drifted past his nose, tauntingly red, marks for the third occasion he's had to bat one of those blasted things away. Once he could dismiss as an accident, two an unfortunate coincidence, but three?}

{Why, it was practically a challenge!}

{Though... admittedly a messy one. Not to mention sloppy. You didn't see Alastor leaving the velvet from his antlers everywhere, now did you?}

{...that wasn't a bad idea actually. Not everywhere, of course, the Radio Demon had class. But maybe a hearty covering over a certain king of hell's pillow would be enough of a deterrent.}

{Why was Lucifer leaving his feathers everywhere? It was hardly his usual go-to for irritating the deer demon. Before he could dwell too long, however, a familiar chipper voice breaks into his thought process.}

"Oh! Alastor!"

{Charlie, he notes. She's carrying a stack of boxes that's leaning just a little too far forward for comfort and Alastor can't help but use his microphone to tilt them back into her hands properly.}

{Purely so it wouldn't fall on him, of course. Not because he didn't want the princess to hurt herself. That would've made excellent entertainment if he was standing maybe a foot to the left. That's what he'll tell anyone that asks. Until it's true}

"Ack- thanks, Al!" "No problem at all, my dear Charlie. May I ask why you're carrying such a heavy load? With no help for that matter."

{Alastor would've thought her little girlfriend would've leapt at the chance to help. Especially considering he could tell she still carried the guilt of keeping what she truly was a secret.}

"It's no worries! Juuust busy somethings around in storage. Oh, oh! Actually- do you mind checking on my dad?"

{The Radio Demon tilts his head to the side, wondering why in high hell the darling princess thought that that was a good idea. He goes to say as much when-}

"Please, Al? For me?"

{He chokes on static. Somehow, Charlie had managed to peek over her stack of luggage and flash the most horrendous pair of puppy dog- ugh dogs- pair of doe eyes at him}

{It's shameful how fast it works.}

"...obey the five-foot rule." "Yay! Oh, I could hug you right now!" "Do not."

{Charlie giggles, hefting her haul back into the crook of her arm with a nod}

"I would go myself, but this could be a good bonding opportunity for you two! He always gets like this this time of year..." "Oh? And here I thought he was a hermit year round, hahah!"

{Alastor doesn't stick around to see her expression.}

{Unsurprisingly, the feathers become a more and more common occurrence the closer he gets to Lucifer's gaudy apple tower. He'll have to loose Niffty in here sometime soon...}

{The deer half-debates just leaving, the king of hell is more then old enough to take care of himself. But- no, he gave Charlie his word. Not directly, there was nothing making him do this actually. So why does he want to...?}

{Alastor knocks}

"Huh- Uh.. who is it?"

{The door is opening before he can answer.}

"Now, now, your highness, you didn't even let me introduce myself!" "Ughh, what do you want, Alastor?"

{There's something itching at the back of his brain at the sight of Lucifer's unkempt wings. The way the feathers puffed and clumped up in some places, the ceiling high piles of red and white... hm.}

{He invites himself in}

"Wh- hey!" "Our dear Charlie sent me over, of course! Something about your current issue being a yearly problem?"

{It's highly amusing to watch Lucifer waffle around for an answer, starting one sentence just to abandon it for an accusation. It almost makes him laugh as he watches over his shoulder. It's only after a minute of watching that he realizes the king is shirtless.}

{The final piece clicks into place.}

"Oh, I see. You're molting, aren't you?" "How did you-" "I suppose this goes to show even the most powerful of beings have their troubles, hm?" "So you admit I'm stronger then you!"

{Alastor's eye twitches}

"You mean you were doubting it?"

{Lucifer scowls}

{The micro king of hell manages to keep the staring contest going for about 10 seconds before throwing his hands up to viciously scratch at one of wings. The rough movement has the deer cringing and smoothing himself out before Lucifer rounds on him again.}

"Can I help you?" "On the contrary, maybe I can help you."

{His royal shortness barely has time to blink before Alastor is shadow slinking behind him.}

{The Radio Demon shoves at his shoulder until the little king is face down on his bed and ignores whatever noises of protest he manages to make at the sudden treatment.}

"What are you doing- oh. Oh, that feels nice."

{Alastor had sunk his nails into the clump of loose feathers closest to the middle of Lucifer's back and begun to gently scritch at the muscle underneath it; effectively, the feathers ready to fall were taken care of.}

{It feels like hours later of this rinse and dry process before the purring King speaks up}

"You're good at this... you done this for that bartender of yours or something?" "HAH- no."

{The deer contemplates leaving it at that, keeping whatever this calm air is between them going and stable and safe. He's not sure why he doesn't.}

"My ma- my mother used to look after the ducks that came by the pond."

{If Lucifer notices the correction, he doesn't say anything. No, he stays quiet as Alastor dusts his loose feathers into an idle pile.}

"She taught me how to do it." "...she sounds nice."

{The Radio Demon hums, a familiar song drifting through his microphone. He vaguely remembers it as something that would play in the kitchen all those years ago. Hm... didn't his maman say that molting fowl needed more protein? Perhaps then he'll make jambalaya for dinner tonight. Just in case.}

"...she was."