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itwasthereaminuteago · 1 year

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|| Deadhead ||

Victor Zsasz (Gotham) x female reader

Tags/warnings: established relationship, bit of fingering and unprotected sex. Sort of angsty but sexy.

A/n: wrote this in 2019, it's on Ao3 already but thought I'd post here too. I love Gotham.

On nights when you had finished a job, you had a little ritual of cleaning your weapons in the kitchen just before bed. Your freshly oiled set of knives were set to the right, finished and gleaming. The parts of your gun were already laid out neatly to the left on the granite topped island on your cleaning cloth, the one with little skulls printed all over it, and you were just about to start cleaning out the barrel.

You didn't hear him coming in, you never did. It was the warmth of him pressing against your back, the smell of his leather coat, gunsmoke... and the metallic tang of fresh blood that crowded your senses all at once. His hands reached through under your arms, placing his twin pistols right on top of everything you had carefully laid out. As he drew back the lightest touch of his fingers dragged over and left a filthy black smudge on the formerly mirror-like surface of your favourite blade.

"Shit, Victor! I literally just cleaned-"

The rest of your words were lost in a moan as he slipped his hand as quick as anything past your silk robe and into your panties. You leaned back against him groaning and panting as his other hand pushed up your body to grasp and cup your breast, marking your skin and underwear with gunshot residue and whatever else. All the while he remained silent, he had got you so turned on and wet so fast, relentlessly pushing you to a shuddering climax in a couple of minutes.

You braced yourself against the countertop trying to recover and steady your shaking legs, the warmth of Victor's body faded as he moved away. He grabbed your wrist and you span round nearly loosing your balance as he pulled you along with him. Backing up to the couch he let go of you and threw himself down, quickly unbuckling his belt and pants, never taking his eyes from yours. You pushed down your ruined panties, stepping out of them and climbing on to his lap still dressed in your robe and bra as he bunched his own pants down and the thick length of his cock sprang up. Taking it in your hand you guided him inside and sank down, even though you were practically dripping wet with arousal you gasped at the sensation. Still he was silent, his dark eyes watching as you began to ride him. It must have been a Bad Day.

Victor was a showman through and through, he loved the theatrics of being an assassin, lived for the chase, the stalk, the cornering. He just didn't enjoy killing.

Incapacitating? Sure.

Torture? Fine.

But actually taking a life?

Sometimes the simple jobs went wrong. Marks would do stupid things, wouldn't listen to your instructions (threats), would ruin the game – get people killed that didn't have to be killed. Sometimes things went Really Bad.

Victor wouldn't talk about it directly, but sometimes when you were in bed and he thought you were asleep, he'd whisper it to the darkness. Most people thought he was emotionless, hard, uncomplicated, uncaring... sure he had a wicked sense of humour and a perchant for disco of course, but he only let you under his skin.

I love you. You'd breathe close to his ear.

It's not your fault. Was what he'd hear.

Afterwards, you led him to the shower, washing off all the grime, cleaning his wounds and smoothing your hands over the hundreds of scars. He sighed as you kissed the newest mark on his chest, a score across four that were already well healed.

In the morning you woke up alone. When you got up in search of coffee you found it sitting ready on the stove, your gun reassembled and knives clean.

#gotham fic #victor zsasz x reader #victor zsasz x female reader #gotham fanfic

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gothamslostboy · 1 year

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A Small Push

Zsasz x Male Reader

This was meant to be a small paragraph or two on my gotham blog, but I got so carried away

This is the first thing I’ve enjoyed writing so much in a while, so it’s going on the main blog

I didn’t proofread so lmk any typos

WORDS: 2107

YOU ZSASZ

Very little information is known about Victor Zsasz. Sure, everyone in Gotham knows to avoid him. They know he’s a sadistic assassin, loyal to his boss, and that he’s never been serious. The few who’ve survived him only bc the boss called him off report their pleas for life to be met with indifference, which always turns to a unrelated comment about what he’s doing later or asking about what his victim originally planned to do that day.

You see, the terrifying thing about Zsasz isn’t how great he is at his job. What sends chills down Gothamites spines at the mention of his name is how unbothered he is with human life. Where the rest of us see cold blooded murder, Victor sees Tuesday morning’s work. Nothing more important than an office worker doing paper work. Yet, no matter how perplexed a person gets, none of them have tried asking him why.

Until you came along.

It was a new day at work, having started at this diner earlier this week after police officers told you one of Gotham’s several psychos burnt down your last job. Lucky for you it was your day off, not so lucky for your coworker Lucas, but you hadn’t liked him much anyway. Despite it being a Friday, the diner was almost completely empty tonight. You had only had one customer, an older man who had been in a rush to eat. He tipped well, though his rambling about leaving before “Satan’s Strawberry Milkshake Meal” left an odd impression.

Confusion only grew in your mind when your supervisor asked if you could handle being alone for a couple hours, eyes quickly shifting between you and the clock. Before you could even finish nodding your head she pushed past you, almost knocking over the coat hanger by the door as she ran. Now you were a little pissed, not only for her abruptness, but at the fact she had been whispering to herself about “milkshake psychos”.

What was everyone’s deal tonight? Maybe you were missing some information about this side of town, you had only just moved over here for the job, starting your first shift immediately after putting the moving boxes inside your apartment. You’d have to ask the supervisor when she got back.

The bell above the door rang, and suddenly all the pieces clicked together. Victor Zsasz, cruelest killer in Gotham, had walked through your doors and was striding over to the counter. It was too late to pretend you weren’t here, his eyes had registered your paralyzed form quickly and he gave a short wave before sitting down.

Taking a deep breath, your feet moved before your mind and pulled you all the way to the backside of the counter. Now you were less then 5 feet from the man, his stare unnerving, only amplified by his almost innocently placed hands: fingers interlocked in an almost “prayer” position.

Hello welcome to Margret’s Diner, what can- what would you like this evening Sir- er, um, Mr. Vic- Mr. Zsasz? Your hand were shaking as you held your notepad, small damp marks at the end of your desperate fingers. You didn’t dare to make eye contact, not even as you heard his sudden chuckle.

Why are you so stressed? If anyone should be stressed it’s me, just had to flee a scene. And you don’t have to be so formal, it’s Zsasz.

A scene? Did he mean a crime scene- of the murder variety? Your grip tightens on the yellow paper below you, clearing your throat as if it would bring back the air squeezed out from your lungs. He lowers his head to try and enter your eyeline, obviously enjoying the effect his presence has.

I guess you- aha, you have a fair point there Zsasz. You let some pathetic chuckles fill the space in between your words, only continuing on when Victor motions his hand, amused but feeling a smidge of annoyance at your inability to speak. The adrenaline of being so close to a killer kicks in, forcing a wave of dangerous confidence to enter your system. So, Zsasz, your stance straightens and you grin a bit at his surprise when you look him in the eyes. What can I get you? From what others have said today I’m assuming a milkshake is on your menu? You can’t even believe your own words, and it seems neither can the assassin in front of you. He leans back in his chair, arms crossing as he shakes his head and smiles.

Bravo, his hands make the motion of clapping with out any sound before he leans closer, head resting in his hands. You take a tiny step back. When you picture Victor Zsasz: Gotham’s Greatest Assassin, you saw a serious man. One who would have already shot you just for making any sort of assumption about him. The casual man with a sort of relaxed beauty about him seemed almost unable to kill, but you knew better than to trust your unstable taste in men.

I had you pegged for a coward diner man, where did those words come from? What a surprise that is. His eyes are wide, too full of life for a man who just admitted to committing a crime, or at the very least running from one. You relax knowing that the annoyance he carried earlier seems gone, maybe even replaced with the same fascination for you that you had for him.

Don’t know, maybe I’m losing it. So was I right about that milkshake or what? Have my sources lied? If the pounding of your heart hadn’t been reminding you of your awakeness, you wouldn’t believe this was a real moment. Not a coward, but you’ve certainly never been a brave, confident conversationalist, and definitely not with someone so infamous as Victor.

Huh, guess I was wrong. Strawberry milkshake please, no cherry. Aren’t you a tiny bit scared I’ll kill you? He focused on you now, trying to discern any fearful tells you could have. Itching to see if you truly were insane. It’s rare he finds someone who can speak to him, even rarer that person seems to relax and enjoy the conversation. You speak over the rising sound of your heart, and scare yourself a bit by resting a hand on the counter and leaning towards the man dressed in black.

If you killed me, who would make the milkshake? You don’t know where the ingredients are and then you’d have a body in your way! Doesn’t seem ideal for a relaxing milkshake. You let a big grin cover your face when it’s apparent Victor enjoyed your answer, laughing and moving just a bit closer. He lets his head flop to the side, catching in in his right hand while pointing at you with his left.

Oh you are fun. Also new here. I come here every week, surprised no one told you. Kinda well known around here. He jokingly rolls his eyes as he finishes his sentence.

He meant it. You are fun, he’s gonna have to keep you around. No matter the cost. It’s obvious to him this is at least partially a front, your hand is more relaxed, but still shaking. But even still, he doesn’t meet people who joke with him on the day to day. Only other assassins, even then it’s typically not good natured, and they usually end up dead. But you. He doesn’t even know your name but he’s on the edge of his seat waiting for you to reply. You’re cute. You’re funny. And you’re blushing everytime he gets closer, Victor doesn’t think you even noticed that you were.

Zsasz made a promise to himself the day he realized he was different from those around him. The day he realized no one else enjoyed watching the pain of others, no one enjoyed causing it, when he observed quick movements in the opposite direction as he walked towards ppl, the day he pieced together it wasn’t normal to relish in that. Victor Zsasz promised himself that when he found someone he didn’t want to hurt, even a little bit, he wouldn’t let them escape. Lucky day, he found you. Even with his favorite torture methods & his favorite weapons, no scenario in his mind felt right, at least not the unconsentually violent ones. You’re voice fades into his mind. He hadn’t even realized he zoned out.

Zsasz? You ok there? What did you get shot fleeing? are you gonna die on me? Your real concern, hidden behind sarcasm didn’t escape him. How cute. Looking you in the eyes Victor answers.

Nah I’m to good for that. Thinking about you. Wanna make yourself a milkshake too? My treat! He slams his hand on the table, expectingly waiting for you to comply.

Well, it is a slow day, why not! Walking over to the blender, a question nags at you. Hey Zsasz? You take a deep breath again before deciding to commit. Ask ya’ a question?

Sure diner man, if you can do two things. He holds up two fingers, and opens up the jar of maraschino cherries you were struggling with. Numero uno: you can call me Victor now, you’re fun. Numer dos: let me know your name! Diner man is fun an’ all, but it’s unfair you know mine.

Victor pops a cherry in his mouth as he waits for the blender to stop. Never taking his gaze away from his new prize.

Oh shit, sorry. Totally forgot. Um, Y/N, Y/N L/N! And well, I guess I was wondering- I just wanna know- I’m curious how you do it? For the first time since the beginning of Victor’s visit, you’re too nervous to look at him. What if he thought that was too personal? You place a straw in his milkshake and slide it over to him, gasping when his hand wraps around your wrist.

Don’t get all shy on me L/N, we are having so much fun. I do a lot of things, you’re gonna have to be specific. He notices your hesitancy to continue and pulls you into him, almost spilling his milkshake as he whispers in your ear. I don’t bite, well, unless you want me to handsome. He lets you pull back and winks, sipping at his cool drink.

You do the same, hoping it will combat the heat flooding your body, hoping it’s not, but knowing it is very visible on your cheeks. Alrighty Victor, he loves how you say his name, intently locking his eyes on your fidgeting hands. How do you kill? How come the cops never catch you off guard? Why don’t you have to take it seriously?

Huh. No one’s ever asked him that. His new favorite possession is braver than most.

Because I’m good at what I do Y/N. It’s easy, just pull the trigger, push the button, stab, I could do it in my sleep. I don’t take it seriously because how’s that fun? He leans back and smiles a bit, intrigued at how much more terrified you were to ask the question than you are hearing the answer. Infact, it seems you’ve forgotten that people are supposed to be disturbed when they hear this. Y/N L/N seems almost, jealous, that Victor Zsasz can do this.

I could teach you, friend. Makes good money. Definitely more fun then a diner job. He cuts off your protest quickly. You don’t have to do the whole “I’m a good person” act, I can see it in your eyes. I don’t think you were joking when you said your losing it Y/N. You just need some one to push you along, Victor stand up, slowly walking all the way to the other side of the counter until he’s face to face with you. His lips hovering barely over yours. Let me push

You get lost in his dark eyes for a second contemplating. Maybe he’s not so crazy. Life is the crazy thing. People like Lucas were crazy. He always bugged you at your last job, constantly asking you to work overtime. Why should you have to do extra because he had a bad life? Maybe what you had done made sense. I mean the police had believed that the building burning was Jerome Valeska, they hadn’t even noticed the gun shot wound. It wouldn’t be so easy if it was wrong, right? Okay, you connect your lips, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. You pull back for air, reestablishing eye contact.

Teach me, push me over the edge

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just-a-small-obsession · 9 months

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I feel like I'm just waiting for fall to finally arrive so I can write more fan fiction, especially my scarecrow one. I finally have a job and it takes up a lot of my time which is exhausting. I'm twenty-one and just trying to live my best life with fanfiction and books so I can have a little bit of peace in my loud and dizzying world.

I know that I have two stories right now and those are a Gotham one and a Jonathan Crane one, but I still want to do a Peaky Blinders one which has always been on my mind. Cillian Murphy is the one man in the world that I respect and adore!

I have a lot of plans for all of my stories and I can't wait for it to come to light.

#jonathan crane x reader #gotham x reader #victor zsasz x reader #tommy shelby x reader #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfic #scarecrow x reader

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envihellbender · 11 months

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Jon fucking Victor while Victor’s in a straitjacket (could be consensual relationship kink times or Arkham dubcon times)

Characters: Victor Zsasz (Gotham) Jonathon Crane (Rogues!)

Rating: Explicit, Mature, MDNI, 18+

Content: restraints, straightjacket, medical, trans Victor, teasing, objectification, inspection, oral, finger fucking, roleplay, Victor x Jonathon

Jonathon Crane smirked as he looked down at Victor, the young man was wearing nothing but his underwear and a genuine Arkham Issue straightjacket. He had stolen one from work, the white fabric with silver buckles, and a number printed on black ink on the front. 019427-0. His knees were buckled down to the gurney, making it almost impossible for him to do anything by squirm and make a lot of noise. Exactly how Jonathon wanted him.

“Subject is one Victor Zsasz,” he began, speaking into his tape recorder that was at least forty years old whirred in the background. He pulled on two blue, sterile gloves as he spoke. A small smile on his lips as he saw Victor squirm in his straight jacket, and the additional restraints on the gurney, lust and excitement thick in his green eyes. “The terrifying hitman, who I have reduced to being nothing but a naked, shivering specimen. The perfect specimen, but a specimen none the less.”

Jonathon used his index and middle fingers to lift up Victor’s chin, moving his head from side to side to test his neck movement. After this, Jonathon pulled down Victor’s soft pink lips to inspect his teeth, and proceeded to shove his gloved thumb into his mouth. Despite spluttering, Victor sucked on it dutifully. Jonathon smirked and chuckled, pulling it free and wiping the spit on Victor’s cheeks.

“Subject is, despite his predicament, aroused and showing his weak, submissive side to me,” Jonathon narrated. He took a step away from Victor causing him to whine and pout, pulling on his straightjacket - his arms crossed over and attempting to pull away from his torso. “He seems to be frustrated, desperate for me to touch his cunt. He puts on a good show, pretending to be trying to escape when we know he could destroy them in seconds. Clearly he must enjoy being kidnapped and experimented on.” He ran his fingers down Victor’s bare legs, eventually tugging on the hem of his boxer briefs. Victor gasped at the slightest touch, Jonathon slipped his fingers into Victor’s underwear and ran two of them across his vulva. He pulled his hand away and inspected it before shoving two fingers into Victor��s mouth, causing him to cough and gag around the strange sensation of the medical gloves.

“Subjects cunt is already covered in precum. He sucked my fingers clean of said ejaculation happily, showing clear signs of hypersexuality and possible sex addiction.” Jonathon pulled away from Victor’s mouth. He turned around and picked up a vial and a needle. He filled it with the chemical with a sinister look on his face before turning back to Victor.

“What’s that, Doctor?” He asked, a mixture of excitement and apprehension in his voice.

“Just a little fear toxin I cooked up.” The moment Jonathon spoke, Victor’s body stiffened and he sat up slightly, his eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t say you could inject me with FT.”

“It’s not FT - it’s all apart of the scene I promise,” Jonathon assured, his Southern drawl making his softening voice sounded a little rough but comforting. Victor nodded and relaxed laying back on the gurney. Jonathon cleared his throat before continuing. “Not that you tell me what to fill your veins with, Cunt.”

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Victor pouted.

“Good boy,” Jonathon hummed. He slipped the needle into Victor’s thigh, not rubbing the area with numbing agent and feeling his cock hardening as he saw it penetrate his skin. He pushed the plunger, filling Victor with the clear substance. Quickly, Victor’s eyes widened and he squeezed his thighs together, writhing in place as if desperate for some simulation as his eyes watered.

“Subject seems to respond strangely to sheer panic,” Jonathon said, his voice lilting as if he’s telling a joke. “He has a potent form of FT, enough to cause hallucinations spawned from the trauma that has scarred his psyche. The subject has responded with simple, intense arousal. How fascinating. Is it a result of the subject’s neurodiversity? Or does he simply find excitement in such things?”

“Doctor. Please- please,” Victor whined. “I need- need your cock. Please. I’ll- please. Fuck. Fuck!” His cheeks grew red as his breathing quickened as he couldn’t touch his dick, or anything else with his position. He needed something inside of his cunt, and tugging on his little prick.

“Subject is begging me to penetrate him,” Jonathon continued, he absent-mindedly grabbed one of Victor’s breasts through the fabric, trying to find the boy’s erect nipple with his thumb. “Body is responding as if he’s been injected with an extremely strong aphrodisiac. How strange.” Jonathon’s face grew into a toothy smirk, his snaggletooth pressed into his bottom lip. Victor bucked his hips from the stimulation, causing the crease in the middle of his boxers to rub against his cunt. Jonathon slipped two fingers into Victor’s underwear, causing him to sigh in relief at the sudden sensation. He rested his fingers on Victor’s crotch, millimetres away from his vulva and causing tears of frustration to fall down his pink cheeks. Just as Victor was about to plead again, Jonathon roughly shoved two fingers inside of Victor’s cunt, wet and open from the teasing and aphrodisiac. He began quickly fingering him, down to the knuckles as he brushed Victor’s cervix and when pulling out, pressing upwards into Victor’s g-spot.

Victor was always a loud recipient, he gasped, moaned, whined, and even screamed out when he was surprised by Jonathon’s thumb against his prick. He squeezed his thighs around Jonathon’s hand and bucked his hips into him.

“Subject is screaming as if I have a lit match inside of his cunt,” Jonathon mused. He pulled out suddenly, causing Victor to let out a protesting whine. He undid his belt and fly, pulling down his trousers and boxer shorts. He lets his cock fall out next to Victor’s face. His hand pulling his head towards him, using his other he lifted up his cock and pressed his thick, heavy testicles, coated in a soft ginger hair, and pressed them into Victor’s lips. “Subject will lap at my balls until I tell him to stop,” he drawled. Victor looked up with a grin, sticking out his tongue and coating Jonathon’s balls in his spit, occasionally sucking on them dutifully. He stared directly at the doctor, a submissive gaze in his eyes and face. Jonathon moaned and gasped, he leant over, awkwardly balanced as he began groping Victor’s covered breasts. As attractive as Victor appeared, he was missing the sight of the boy’s tits. Eventually, his hand returned to Victor’s cunt as he attempted to fit both of Jonathon’s balls into his mouth. Jonathon began fingering Victor’s cunt, gripping forwards towards his g-spot, roughly and slowly.

“The subject is very talented with his tongue,” Jonathon mused, gasping and breathing heavily as his cock hardened. “He is moaning into me, causing a warm vibrating sensation which is rather pleasant.” He pulled his balls away, causing Victor to let out a high pitched whine. Jonathon pushed the head of his cock against Victor’s lips and forced it into his mouth. Victor spluttered and gagged as the doctor began roughly fucking his throat, using his lips like a fleshlight as he somehow still managed to finger him, repeatedly abusing his cunt, slamming into his cervix and g-spot. Suddenly, Victor mumbled something around Jonathon’s cock and his cunt tightened around Jonathon’s fingers. Gripping onto his digits to the point where Jonathon almost felt the bones break. Victor gasped as his eyes rolled back and Jonathon felt his fingers he coated in Victor’s cum. The sensation caused Jonathon’s cock twitch against Victor’s tongue, he slammed the head into the warm, wet hole until he felt his entire body released. His eyes half-lidded as he watched a delirious Victor dutifully swallow every drop of Jonathon’s semen.

#envi writes #batverse #nsft fanfic #Victor zsasz #Jonathon crane #Gotham #rogues! the podcast #fanfiction #Zsasz x crane #Victor zsasz x Jonathon crane #medical kink #medical roleplay #mdni #18+

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finniestoncrane · 1 year

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Oh! When I saw that Victor zsasz was on the list I knew what I wanted. Need some love so why not from that beauty?

Cheer this heartbroken babe up. 💔

🎀I'm not in love.🎀

🎀 No. 2: I'm Not In Love 🎀

give me a character and i'll write some headcanons for how they fall in love with you and how/when they tell you a/n: kjjlklkjasd FINALLY some good fuckin food 💚 (i just really love him and i wanted more of him, also i picked gotham zsasz, my chihuahua boy) 1k milestone info! 🔞minors dni🔞 • kofi • tag: finnie1k

victor is a surprisingly soft boy! but he's not out actively looking for love, it's the kind of thing that just happens

maybe you both reach for the same antique knife

or you're both stocking up on the same ammunition

both of you order the exact same ice cream/sauce/sprinkle combo when you're at the counter

meet-cutes are definitely a way to get his attention, and he's lost in your love pretty much immediately

in his line of work everything has to be fast and quick, and that goes for relationships too

you never know when someone's going to murder you, it could even be him

so you have to live every moment like it could potentially be your last, seize the day and all that

and he lives by that motto

so he'll be seizing you, taking you in his arms and telling you there's no point in delaying happiness when he could whisk you off to some romantic spot (for a contract killing) and romance you enough in one night to last a lifetime

which again, there's no telling how long a lifetime is, so...

#finnie1k #finnie writes #victor zsasz #gotham zsasz #victor zsasz x reader #gotham #gotham fox #batman rogues #rogues gallery #zsasz x reader #victor zsasz fanfic #gotham!verse #gotham!zsasz

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anindecisivespirit · 4 months

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Summary: Faced with betrayal after betrayal, Oswald has to wonder why Victor hasn't abandoned him too. After Victor decides to help patch him up, he finally asks.

#gotham #victor zsasz #oswald cobblepot #the penguin #fanfic #batman #writing

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samantha-rae-velcher · 2 years

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How Gotham villains react to their s/o getting shot

Oswald Cobblepot

Victor Zsasz

Butch Gilzean

Eduardo Dorrance

Salvatore Maroni

Translation: Sul doppio - on the double, Tesoro - sweetheart

Oswald

Y/n was laying in the grass, blood running down her side. Oswald came running down the hill four guards behind him, he fell to his knees beside her and pulled her close.

"Who did this to you, my dear?" He whispered.

Y/n could barely speak, the pain was too much. She shook her head and gripped one of his lapels.

"I-I didn't see the face....but I think they worked for Fish Mooney."

Oswald went hot and cold at the very sound of her name, he would make her suffer for this. Nobody does this to his woman and lives.

"Gabe! Bring Y/n back up to the house. I need to make a visit to an old friend."

Victor Zsasz

Y/n and Zsasz are walking down the road in the rain, it's dark outside and cold. Zsasz hears a gun shot quite close to them, he turned in the direction of the sound when Y/n barely whispers his name.

"V-Victor..."

He spun around and caught her in his arms before she could hit the ground, Victor pressed his hand into her wound and rested his forehead on hers.

"You'll be alright, don't worry...I'll get you home."

Y/n's vision went black and her body felt cold...

Victor gently dabbed a warm washcloth on her forehead while rubbing her arm.

"Victor?" She asked as she opened her eyes, he smiled and connected his lips with hers.

"I won't rest until I find who did this." He whispered.

Butch Gilzean

"Woah woah woah!" Butch yelled as Y/n and him raised their hands.

"Nobody has to get hurt here!" Y/n said.

The man in black pointed a gun at her and pulled the trigger, she fell to the floor and gasped.

"You son of a bitch!" Butch yelled.

"Don't fuckin move!" The man in black pointed the gun at him. "Now you'll sit there and watch her die!"

Butch charged at him and knocked his ass out, he picked y/n up and laid her out onto the couch.

"Y/n, stay with me baby. Come on it'll be okay....I'll get you some help."

Butch ran to get Mooney and the nearest physician he could find, when he came back he stayed by her side and stared daggers at the physician.

Eduardo Dorrance

Y/n was sitting on the floor, back against the wall when Eddie came running in.

"Y/n!?" He called out. He stopped when he saw her. Y/n was bleeding from her shoulder and obviously about to pass out.

Eduardo could hear footsteps enter the room from the one adjacent to it. Y/n let out a quiet cough and Eddie knelt down next to her making sure she was alright.

"Y/n? Stay with me..."

"I doubt she'll live for very much longer." A man's voice said as he stepped into the light.

Eddie slowly reached for the gun strapped to his thigh, making sure the man in front of him couldn't see.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I am Nathaniel Barnes! I'm sure you've heard of me."

Eddie nodded..

"Yeah I've heard of you, formally Captain of the GCPD. Turned psychopath, tried to kill Jim Gordon. Now you go after a defenseless woman? In her own home, I can see you're still a sick bastard."

Eddie stood and quickly pointed his gun at Barnes, pulling the trigger and shooting him in the gut.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Jim's number, when he picked up Eddie didn't give him a chance to say "Hello".

"Jim! Barnes shot Y/n and I need an ambulance immediately! Why don't you and Harvey get down here and take this son of a bitch in?"

Eduardo hung up and knelt back down next to Y/n, he tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled at her.

"You'll be alright, Gorgeous. They'll be here soon, you just gotta stay awake."

Salvatore Maroni

The Irish man held a gun to Y/n's head as Maroni's men circled him.

"I'll kill her, Sal."

Maroni looked livid, this mooch had a gun to HIS girl, in HIS bar. And the man thought he was gonna escape with his life?

"You shoot her, you'll never make it out that door." He said.

The Irishman laughed and pressed the gun to her back, pulling the trigger.

Y/n's eyes when wide, she could feel the hot liquid run down her back.

"S-Sal...I." She stuttered and fell to the floor.

The man pointed the gun at Salvatore and fired, the gun didn't shoot, it only jammed.

Maroni smiled and motioned for his men to grab him, Sal pickled her up and took her to the back and laid her down on the soft couch.

"Franky!" He yelled. "Get me a doctor, sul doppio!

Tears ran down y/n's face, she let out a quiet sob and rapped her arms around his neck.

"Shh shh shh. Don't cry, Tesoro. I'm not going anywhere, I'm staying right here with you."

THE END ❤️

(I hope you liked it. It's not my best work, but I've had covid for a while and haven't been in the right mindset to write stories. But I just decided to make this because I enjoy making Gotham villain headcanons.)

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decaying-words · 27 days

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Freaks

Victor Zsasz x Reader • 18+ Explicit • 3.3k words TW & tags: Dubious consent, scarification, wounds, blood, virgin AO3 • All my stories

"His body is a beautiful abomination, adorning monstrous scars like discolored veins on his marble flesh. They roll with his muscles, hideous and protuberant, and all I can think of is my desire to taste them all, read the stories his body tells with the tip of my tongue, until there is nothing left in the world but a cacophony of pleasure and moans. My hands caress everywhere, fingers tracing his tally marks, but I do not see the corpses, I only see the life pumping in his veins."

Freaks

Gloved fingers, frigid and dispassionate, trace sinuous patterns over the trembling features of my face, smooth and silk-like in appearance, a stark contrast to his, marked and scarred with conscious volition. His marble pallor adorns vicious cuts, the more recent ones reminiscing of crimson snakes crawling over his visage, disfiguring his traits and expressions; they sink deeply in the flesh and split his lips, discolored and cruel. There is a perverse design behind them, a morbid compulsion that makes it difficult to avoid and occult, so I don’t, or can’t really; my eyes are locked on his scars, frightened and terrified. He takes great pleasure, I believe, in seeing me anxious and petrified.

His leather thumb, demanding and inquisitive, caresses my lower lip, opening my mouth and revealing the warm cavity. He tilts his head, pensive and silent, while my eyes search for his, search for a reassurance I know I won’t receive. Truthfully, I’m unsure why I came to him willingly; or perhaps I do, and this frightens me even more.

I used to timidly stare at him from a distant booth of a questionable bar we would both happen to frequent, our unknown encounters going from coincidental to deliberate; and while I have never even approached him, I couldn’t help but detail his striking appearance. Always impeccably dressed in elegant leathery and velvety pieces, his body, gnarly and marked, seemed oddly sublimed. A bizarre charisma that would keep my thoughts racing at night, fingers working quickly on my engorged nub.

Days turned to weeks as I obsessed and yearned for his touch, foreign and forbidden, knowing full well who that strange man was and the crimes he committed, not dissimilar to visiting sharks at the aquarium. I would pretend to be busy working on some undefined task on my laptop, nursing drink after drink, always strategically positioned in a booth in front of him, creating wild and fantastic scenarios in my head on how I would seduce him and how he would make tender love to me; scenarios that would content my inexperienced soul, while occulting the harsh reality of his character.

I suppressed a yelp when he found me in the bathroom tonight, blocking the exit door, toned arms crossed and dark eyes drilling holes in my mind. I’ve never been so close to him then, and I vividly remember the raw panic I felt standing in front of Victor Zsasz. If you keep looking at me like that, he said in a deep and surgical tone, I might well turn to stone. Face flushed with shame and fear, eyes laying inert on the ground, I could barely find the strength to mutter a quasi aphonic apology.

Cocking an hairless brow and tilting his head, he considers me for an instant, impatient and expectant. Perhaps I had too much to drink tonight, or perhaps I was driven by an unknown divine intervention, but in a soft and timid voice I murmured what could have been a confession. You fascinate me. He smirks, smug and proud, reminiscent of a demon luring a soul, and I am the willing participant of my own downfall. We leave the bar together that night.

His gloved thumb moves from my parted lips to my throat, his fingers tracing the contours of the rolling muscles underneath the delicate skin. Nothing and everything feels right at the same time; while my romantic nature imagined my first time under different conditions, I cannot ignore the tremors in my thighs when his knuckles brush my pulsating flesh. How bad could it be, I ask myself naively, my heart beating frantically at the foreign and completely new touch.

One word, sharp and glacial, that annihilates the last hope of romance I could have and makes me question my decision to bring him home. Undress. I do as I’m told, moving in a way I imagine would be languid and sensual under his unappreciative and disinterested gaze; instead, it feels humiliating and bitter. He stops me when I reach behind my back to unclasp my bra, leaving me in my underwear. Lay down.

The air feels cold on my heated skin as I lay with the grandiose limpness of a corpse on the bed, eyes staring at the ceiling, waiting for something, anything to happen. I do not think much when I feel the mattress dipping next to me, then a sharp yelp breaks the otherwise quiet room as the cold touch of his leather glove caresses my bare thighs. Having now removed his coat, Victor wears a rolled up shirt, exposing his viciously scarred arms, the tally marks too great to count. One for each person he’s killed, I think to myself; and the thought shouldn’t make me feel so warm but it does, as much as seeing his dark gaze exploring my pristine flesh while his fingers massage my plush thighs. I feel a cruel shiver when he removes his gloves languidly, revealing two perfect hands, delicately defined and marked like the rest of his body. My breath hitches and he notices it, cocking an hairless brow at me with an amused light in his eyes, building up a sinful anticipation, one that makes my sex pulsate instinctively.

A broken moan dies on my lips akin to a hiccup when his bare hands, warm and surprisingly soft, caress my legs up and down. There is a faint smile on his face, lips slightly parted, as a somber thought darkens his gaze. I like your thighs. I want to mark them. This is not a suggestion, I understand.

Wiggling on the bed, panicked and terrified, Victor then grabs me by the waist and immobilizes me on the mattress, towering over me. His face merely a few centimeters away from mine, he presses his index finger over his mouth, shushing me. Heavy tears threaten to run and spill, and Victor sighs softly, brushing them away from the corner of my eyes with his thumb. You won’t be another tally mark, he promises. I’m unsure this will be enough to calm me down. Not when his hand slips in his pocket and retrieves a butterfly knife that he opens in front of me. The blade, delicately and tastefully engraved, beams in the dim light of the room; it is perfectly clean and cared for.

His scarred lips find my neck, the sensation as devastating as it is confusing. His kisses are passionate and hungry, licking the sensitive flesh there and progressing slowly. Each and every one of his kisses drag a string of breathy moans out of my throat, almost making me forget about my previous panic, the overwhelming sensations disorienting. His mouth is on my collarbone, then my sternum, then my covered breast… Never have I ever experienced such fire inside of me, my legs quivering with desire, my stomach knotting and twisting, as Victor draws a path with his mouth on my body, until finally does he reach my thighs, where he stops and contemplates the skin.

Desire turns to fear again, an emotional rollercoaster that seems to displease him. I’m not the burlap guy; I don’t get off when you’re scared, he scoffs. No, I imagine not. I expect him to get off to my ripped flesh. Nonetheless, I swallow my tears and nod at him, unsure why I am even humoring him. When he smiles, looking up at me, dark orbs shining like stars, I feel my sex throb shamefully. He then presses a chaste kiss on my immaculate skin, murmuring a word dripping with honey and that makes my heart race. Good girl.

The pain is stark and burning but not unbearable I realize; a stark contrast with the intense and unique horror my mind is feeling right now, hissing through my teeth, screwing my eyelids shut and squirming on the bed. I feel his hands holding me still while his breath caresses my scorching flesh, shushing me to no avail. When I feel the cruel blade leaving my skin, warm blood dripping from the fresh wound and running down my inner thigh, I pant heavily, a brief sense of relief soothing my nerves. But I was wrong to relax that soon, as a renewed agony, more vicious and noticeably deeper assaults my flesh, dragging a frank shriek out of my throat. I cry honest tears, begging for him to stop, thrashing on the bed while his free hand immobilizes me. If you keep moving it’ll be worse, he warns. But how could it be, when my entire mind is screaming bloody murder and my body is tearing apart under his brutal instrument?

The torture lasts for an eternity, hot tears ruining my face and heart beating so frantically it could give up at any moment. It burns, the acidic pain radiating in my entire body, my ravaged thigh throbbing ferociously. It feels nightmarish, so much that my brain seems to numb me, in a last act of mercy and love. Until I hear the butterfly knife close, and his voice, soft and deep. Wasn’t that bad, was it? Yes, yes it was.

Through wet eyelids, I tentatively peek at my leg, my heart sinking instantly at the bloody mess of torn flesh. It is hard to even decipher what he marked through the crimson ocean covering the skin and soaking the bed sheets underneath. Propping myself up on my elbows, I take a closer look at my lover from Hell, nestled between my legs and admiring his art; Victor pants heavily, face delicately flushed with an unmistaken arousal. Something boils in my stomach, a lighter feeling that makes me heave. Do you feel it now? he asks. The endorphins? You’ll feel real good very soon. I do not understand.

It burns again, atrocious and vivid, when his tongue, warm and wet, laps my wound; yet this time, there is something much more insidious, more sinful following the depraved sensation. The feeling is confusing, overwhelming, but a heinous pleasure replaces the discomfort and washes over me, making my sex throb and my nipples harden, a voracious desire to touch him, and be touched by him. Victor moans lustfully as the tip of his tongue dips into the cuts like one would lick a cunt, his fingers caressing the exposed insides, and through the agony I swear I can feel it in my core, can feel a soul-crushing liquid bliss building up inside of me.

Victor kisses my cuts, his fingers rubbing them open, and in a quasi delirious state I regret that they aren’t deep enough to be fucked. It feels numb, my brain doing a stellar job at occulting any pain and pumping me with relaxing and pleasurable hormones, and now I understand. Rolling my hips, I stare at his scarred face devouring me, begging him for more, more of this perverse and obscene pleasure only he can give me. He smirks devilishly, dipping his tongue in one of the deeper cuts he gave me, tearing the flesh open, and more burning pleasure follows as I throw my head back and wail.

My hand reveals my breasts, toying with an erected nipple, while the other slips inside my underwear, surprisingly soaked, and caresses my engorged, swollen clitoris in a familiar pattern. Victor slides his thumb inside the now almost translucent fabric, pulling it to the side to have a better view of my glistening cunt. I feel two fingers caressing my vulva, stimulating my lips, while the flat of his tongue licks the sensitive flesh of my inner thigh.

I feel it coming now, a devastating orgasm, sinful and immoral, about to crash and break me, one that will without a doubt forever alter my mind, distort my heart, and ruin my definition of pleasure, as I shriek and scream incoherent praise, filthy curses and his name.

Legs quivering and now a panting mess, I gently push him, beg him to stop, and he does, thankfully, after pressing one last kiss on my raw thigh. Nothing and everything feels right at the same time, but I can’t complain, not when I just saw the stars of a doomed sky with the force of a tsunami, despite the permanent marks he just gave me. Oh God, he marked me.

Through half lidded eyes, I can clearly see Victor’s positively feral state. Breathing heavily, an exquisite flush on his face and a vicious tent in his pants, I understand that we are not done yet. His fingers hook under the elastic of my underwear and remove them while I squirm to unclasp my bra, presenting myself completely bare in front of him. His reaction is immediate, passionate; he bites, until the skin breaks, until blood spills and I scream and shriek, thrashing on the mattress, mourning my pristine and untouched flesh, pushing him when he forces himself on me, scratching his skin even though it makes him moan louder. He defiles me, marking my breasts, my hips, and everywhere his teeth can sink in, sucking and licking blood, leaving less permanent souvenirs of his presence. The pain is shooting now, throbbing and lively, but he shushes my sorrow, kissing my new tears, murmurs sweet praises as if I was a lover, while he undresses.

His body is a beautiful abomination, adorning monstrous scars like discolored veins on his marble flesh. They roll with his muscles, hideous and protuberant, and all I can think of is my desire to taste them all, read the stories his body tells with the tip of my tongue, until there is nothing left in the world but a cacophony of pleasure and moans. My hands caress everywhere, fingers tracing his tally marks, but I do not see the corpses, I only see the life pumping in his veins.

His cock, untouched and intact, stands proudly, his glans a delicious shade of carmine; the first one I’ve seen in real life, but my inexperience does not prevent my feverish mind to crave it. Wrapping my hand around it, it is warm, throbbing and full of life; loud breathy moans break his throat and make my sex throb, but his hand presses gently on my sternum, keeping me on the mattress and making me understand that he’s reaching his limit.

His fingers caress my stomach with a tenderness that feels alien from him, before dipping lower and caressing my sensitive clitoris. I whine and moan softly, but manage to find the strength through my clouded mind to warn him. I’ve never… Victor looks at me quizzically before fully comprehending what I just confessed. There is a dark glow in his eyes as he bites his lip, a wolfish, devilish grin on his face. Staring at my sex with curious care, his thumb delicately opening my untouched hole, revealing my intact hymen; he hums deeply, his cock twitching with interest.

Victor spits a generous globe of saliva in his hand before spreading it on his cock, rubbing its head against my folds. The sensation is warm, soft and foreign, as I grab the sheets next to my head, humming appreciatively. A gentle pressure against my hole, and I look at him with slight panic. Aren’t you going to prepare me? I ask, but he chuckles darkly. Oh, no, don’t want to waste it. Waste what, I wonder? But before my mind can process his words, I feel him push. Oh God, he’s pushing, mercilessly, with no preparation, and it hurts, oh it hurts.

I hit his shoulder, tell him it hurts, beg him to stop, a now familiar circus it seems like; but Victor does not care, does not listen, or perhaps he does and enjoys hearing me suffer, in a true sadistic manner; he shushes me, encourages me somehow, until his cruel cock is completely sheathed deep inside of my pulsating cunt, splitting me in half, every single nerve of my body screaming and shrieking. I clench my jaw, staring at the ceiling, until I feel him remove himself in an equally painful movement. Victor hisses and moans, looking at his now bloodied cock, my blood on his cock, as if it is the most beautiful sight in the world; that viscous blood glistening and beaming on his angry cock. He pants loudly like a wild animal, a thin veil of sweat covering his burning body, watching his sex spearing my insides, defiling my most intimate parts, tormenting my anatomy, blood, precum and other fluids dripping down my ass.

He rolls his hips surprisingly slowly and smoothly, but it is still too much and too painful for me, whining and yelping when his tip brushes against a spot too sensitive, or when my walls tense and refuse to welcome him willingly. His voice trembles when I protest, I know, I know it hurts; I believe he likes it when I’m suffering, maybe because he thinks that pleasure transcends pain.

After an eternity of torturous thrusts, I finally feel my body easing slightly, muscles relaxing around his cock, until, beyond the waves of agony, I can feel liquid bliss pooling inside of me, reminiscent of my earlier orgasm. I moan frankly, allowing my body to relax, welcoming all of his vigor and brutality, and Victor hums, caressing my face and kissing my forehead. Good girl.

His pace quickens now, thrusting fiercely inside of my aching hole, his hand lifting my knee to give him a deeper angle while he groans like a wolf and I wail and cry out, entire body sore and all of my senses assaulted, unsure what I’m feeling, unsure if this is the proper way to do it, all I know is that I have too much of it and also not enough, that I need it to end but also need it to continue, with the wounds on my thighs viciously throbbing again as his sides brushes against them. He looks at my blood, splattered on his lower stomach, on my inner thighs, cursing under his breath, in a quasi delirious state, proud and aroused. He moans louder when his thrusts get more frantic, more irregular, choking the air out of my lungs when his hips give up and his orgasm comes, devastating and brutal, in an animalistic groan.

He stills, spent and panting, almost wheezing, body covered in sweat, until he removes himself, slowly, carefully. His come drips out of my hole in a pink shade, his cock glistening and crimson; his trembling hand pumps himself, spreads my blood on his length in breathy moans. My cunt aches and throbs in agony, used and open for the first time by Victor Zsasz.

He does not roll over and hold me like one would expect from a lover. This bothers me, somehow. Instead, he leaves the bedroom with his clothes in his arms and goes to clean himself, leaving me bare and shaking on the bed, with the limpness of a corpse; and truthfully, I am not sure he didn’t kill me, metaphorically speaking. There is a cruel clarity unveiling my vision, one that should make me feel awful, ashamed even of this aberrant night, but I feel content, satisfied, as if this improper desire, this filthy pleasure was always inside of me, all it needed was a Victor Zsasz to nurture it.

When Victor comes back, he looks as impeccable as he normally does, dry and freshened up, holding his coat over his arm. I cock a brow at my phone in his hand, typing something, while I’m wondering how he found it and how he unlocked it. I should be upset, but I am too drained to protest. He throws my phone on the mattress, right next to me, offering me a polite smile and nodding in my direction.

Call me if you want to play again is all he says before leaving my apartment, leaving me with an agonizing body and much to think of.

#victor zsasz #victor szasz x reader #batman rogues #fanfic #my writing

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clementine-writes-things · 23 days

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The Girl In The Woods pt.2 - V.Z

Summary: It's been some time since y/n and Victor first met, nearing around 3 months. During that time, the two of them had seen each other again 12 times. It wasn't much, but they still enjoyed their time together. One morning, Victor stops by again.

@killingboredom (i started writing this almost immediately after they commented they'd wanna be tagged in part 2! so, enjoy!)

Content Warning: Explicit language, mentions of death, fluff, knife, gun, Victor being a scary hitman and y/n being a sweet girl who can make him comfortable, think about the tiny fish that attach to sharks. They both help each other out :3 that's how these two are.

Songs For Inspo:

Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos

Call It Fate, Call It Karma - The Strokes

Heaven - I Monster

Good Looking - Suki Waterhouse (I know this song is about loss and realizing you weren't meant for each other, but the upbeat tempo fits the fanfic, so that's why I used it.)

Swan Lake - Tchaikovsky (im not writing out the whole thing u guys know what song it is stfu <3 also this song is SO Victor Zsasz coded...)

(bro I saw this gif while listening to end part of Swan Lake and I got chills...this gif doesn't rlly play a role in this fanfic im just using it cuz it made me get goosebumps...)

Read Below Cut

Y/n stood in the garden behind their cottage, a low cobblestone wall surrounding it. Moss covered the stones, the dark green patches soaked in the dew from the early morning rain. The clouds had parted just a little while ago, sun shining down and illuminating the woods. Mourning doves were cooing, their melancholy chirps echoing in the woods. Y/n sighed softly, closing her eyes as she took in the comforting warmth of the sun. They got down on their knees, the overall shorts they wore caused her exposed legs to get slightly covered with dirt. Pulling up the sleeves of her light brown shirt, she reached down and pulled up a carrot from the ground. Smiling, y/n placed it in the basket beside her.

"Need some help with that?" A voice asked.

Y/n turned around, a wide smile spreading on their face. She stood up, brushing dirt off their knees. She walked over to him, wrapping their arms around him. He chuckled lightly, hugging her back and using his gloved hand to pat y/n on the shoulder softly. The girl pulled away, giving him a simple nod.

"That would be very nice, Victor." She responded.

The two of them walked over toward the basket, getting back down on the ground. Victor pulled up his sleeves as well, his muscles flexing as he started to pull carrots out. Y/n giggled, touching him on the shoulder to get his attention. He looked over towards her.

"Pull them out more gently, we don't want the tops to rip off. It'll make them harder to get out of the ground." She said.

Victor nodded, smiling awkwardly. He looked back towards the vegetables, seeing that there was only one left. Digging a little under, he grabbed the top and pulled softly. When it yanked out, he smiled. The whole carrot was intact, which he was proud of. Placing it in the basket y/n had, he stood back up. Y/n did the same, dusting her legs off once again before grabbing the basket of various vegetables.

"I didn't expect to see you again so soon." She said, walking out of the garden.

He followed her, cracking his neck as he rolled it around. His eyes squinted as the sun peered out from behind a tree and shone on him. Using his hand, he covered over his eyes at an angle so he could block the sun. The two of them stepped inside the cottage.

"Well, it's hard to keep away. The scenery is just absolutely breathtaking. What can I say?" He smirked, removing his shoes as he began to close the door behind him.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure that's why you came. Would you mind keeping the door open? It's pretty warm today, I'd like a nice breeze to blow in here." She asked.

"Okie doke. You want the windows open too?" He asked.

"Oh, yes please. Thank you, Victor."

He pushed open the front door gently, getting blinded by the sun once again. Squinting, he moved to the windows around the cottage. Opening every one of them, he took a look at the scenery around him when he poked his head out. There was a pond not too far from y/n cottage that he would sometimes see duck in. Sadly, there were none today. When he finished opening the windows he sat down at the kitchen table.

"Hey, y/n."

"Yes, Victor?" She asked, placing the basket of carrots down as she sat at the table.

He looked at her, face void of emotion. His eyes were heavy, thoughts racing behind them. Y/n tilted her head, unsure of what was going on. Victor sighed, pulling out a packet from the pocket of his pants. He slid it across the table.

"What's thi-"

Y/n looked down at the table, covering her mouth. She giggled, grabbing the packet quickly. Victor tried to hide the smile that was spreading on his face. He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers on the table nonchalantly.

"Sunflower seeds? Victor..." Y/n trailed.

"Yeah well, I know you wanted some. And, I was doing a hit on this guy who had a garden. I saw he had those so I figured I'd take some." He said, looking out the window.

"Oh, well, that's slightly disturbing. But, I still appreciate it nonetheless!" She cheered.

"It was no big deal." He stated.

Y/n smiled, standing up from her seat. She walked over to him, bending over slightly. Victor looked towards her, confused as to what she was doing. However, his eyes widened when she pressed her lips against his forehead. A blush spread over his cheeks which he quickly fought away.

"You're cute, for a hitman..." She joked.

"I'm not cute, but thanks." He said monotone.

"Hm, what about handsome?" She asked.

Victor chuckled, tracing circles onto the wooden table. Y/n watched him through batting eyelashes. She crouched down, knees on the floor as she rested her arms on the table. Y/n rested her chin on her hands, tilting her head sideways to look at him. He looked at her.

"What about charming, hm? Attractive? Devilishly ensnaring?" She suggested.

"Why don't you keep complimenting me, maybe you'll find the right word soon enough." He grinned.

"I think I'm out of words. I don't have a thesaurus on me." She teased.

"Well, that's a shame. I was enjoying those compliments from your pretty mouth."

Y/n blushed, her face slowly turning bright red. Victor chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. She giggled softly, looking up at him through he hair that hung in her face. He watched as she slowly stood up in front of him. Straightening his posture, turned the chair slightly so he was facing her straight on.

"What are you looking at?" She teased, running a hand through her hair.

"You." He answered simply.

Y/n, already blushing, smiling shyly and looked towards the ground. Victor grinned, leaning forwards and grabbing her hand. Gently, he pulled her closer to him. With his other hand, he brought it up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"I can't help but look at you, y/n."

"Victor..." She sighed.

"Hm?"

"Can you move your guns?" She asked, pointing at his holster.

Smiling, he removed his holster and placed it on the table. The guns clunked against the wood. Y/n watched as he pulled out a knife too, placing it on the table as well. He gave y/n a soft smile, teeth slightly showing.

"Do they scare you?" He asked.

"No. They were just in my way..." She said.

Victor's eyes widened slightly as y/n crawled onto his lap. Her legs straddled both sides of him. He had a grin on his face, y/n blushing above him. Pulling his gloves off, he placed them on the table. He reached up, cupping y/n's face with his hands. He sighed softly, looking into her eyes.

"You're so warm." He commented.

"You're so cold." She replied.

Victor looked down at her lips, glancing back up into her eyes. Y/n shifted in his lap, causing him to grunt quietly. He rubbed her cheek with his thumb.

"You do realize I'm a criminal, right? A notorious hitman? A sadist?" He asked, pulling down her bottom lip with his thumb.

"Yes, I do."

"Then why aren't you scared of me?" He asked.

"Because I know you won't hurt me. You love me too much to do that to me. And I love you too." She stated simply.

"What makes you think I love you?"

Y/n placed a hand on his chest, looking him in the eyes. She smiled softly, playing with the buttons of his shirt. Victor watched her as she did this, his heart rate accelerating.

"Well, if I'm wrong, then tell me I'm wrong."

Victor looked her in the eyes, one of his hands trailing to the small of her back. The other hand cupped her face gently. He mumbled under his breath, pulling her in slowly. Victor placed his lips against hers, eyes closing. Y/n placed her hands on his shoulders, giving her stability as she kissed him. Pulling away, hummed, an extremely subtle smile on his face.

"You're right. I do love you..." He sighed.

"Look at that, Mr. Zsasz has fallen for a girl..." Y/n teased.

Victor sat up quickly, grabbing y/n by their thighs. He placed them on the kitchen table, making sure to move the basket of carrots out of the way. Y/n blushed as he stood in between her legs, wrapping them around his waist.

"And look at this, y/n has fallen for a sadistic hitman..." He mocked.

"And I couldn't be happier." She said.

Victor leaned in, gently kissing her once again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a hug. Y/n hid her face into the crook of his neck, kissing it lightly. Victor chuckled, holding the back of her head with his hand. He kissed the side of her head as he mumbled something into her ear.

"Me neither..."

#writers #fanfic writer #writers of tumblr #fanfic #gotham #dc universe #victor zsasz #victor zsasz x reader

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