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nctdreams4me · 8 months

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In Service of Mr Wayne

Synopsis: I need to do my part in protecting Gotham City - my home - from further decay and corruption. What I discover at the long abandoned Wayne Manor is beyond anything I am prepared for...6 nameless men, coming into the light as I uncover the truth about a legend, and my own past...

Pairing: Y/N (Femme/She/Her) X NCT U "The BAT" subunit (Johnny/Yuta/Jungwoo/Hendery/Jeno/Jisung)

Genre: Mystery Thriller Smut, Mostly PWP, Crappy Depictions of Batman lore so please DC/Batman fans don't read this. I did no research and superheroes are not my strong suit.

Word Count: 7k+

Rating: Explicit Sex, Mature, PWP, 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Gangbang, Blow Jobs, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Spit Roasting (I think ToT), Double Penetration, Cream Pie, Cum Swallowing, filth I wrote in a sleep deprived state

Author's Note: Someone has to have written a better "The BAT" smut piece, please, someone tell me there are fics based off this video already? ToT Cuz look....I am in NO state to be writing this sort fic.

I wrote this in like 4 hours IDK what else to say. I just needed to purge this out of my system. Take it for what it is, me being horny for NCT ToT PS. Sorry for everything, I barely edited it. I wrote this just a few hours ago. I should be in bed. Enjoy.

* * *

The night air was still, not even a breeze. With the clouds covering the moon, darkness cloaked the manor that sat at the top of the hill overlooking the sea. I tried my best to blend into the quiet atmosphere as I pressed the pass code to the gate, one careful digit at a time, ears straining for any sort of noises.

The loud creaking from the metal gate doors sent my heart jumping around like the Trix rabbit after getting a bite of that sweet processed fruit shaped cereal. Looking around, the night remained black, even my feet before me difficult to make out, grey shapes I hoped wasn’t a trap just about to stun me into unconsciousness.

A new pass code at the front door before I heard the giant oak doors unlock. Gloved hand pushing the door, I entered into the empty mansion of retired billionaire, Bruce Wayne.

Or that was what he wanted the public to believe.

I received an anonymous tip about Mr. Wayne hiding his hobbyist life. Did his broken body really come from a random car collision?

Or had the elusive billionaire gotten his body mangled behind the private walls of Wayne Corp?

It was up to the truth seekers of Gotham City to figure out the honestly of these stories.

My filthy, corrupted city - the only place I ever called home - was undeserving of deceit and exploitation. It was the local folks like my family and neighbors who helped me work my way up in life.

Despite our broken down apartment and dangerous streets that we called home, my community supported me through school and I’d gotten a step up in life by landing a job at the Gotham Gazette.

Sure, I’m just the mail delivery girl on the 7th floor - but I’d received a white, unmarked envelope in my locker. Inside was a dark, blurry grey picture of what looked like 6 bodies (shapes, to be honest) standing at the edge of a cliff, miles high above the ocean. The only writing was on the back of the picture. “Outside Wayne Manor” with a date just 3 days before.

Below were 3 sets of 7 digit numbers.

I’ve always thought there was something funny about Gotham’s philanthropic CEO, but I was still in high school when Mr. Wayne announced his retirement after recovering from a life altering car accident. He moved away to enjoy his retirement with his broken back in Madagascar.

Almost a decade later, suddenly there’s a suspicious picture with 3 sets of numbers sent to me? I knew I’d been a bit chatty about wanting to get a chance to get a journalist role at Gotham Gazette, but so did half of the interns at the place.

I had to figure out the truth, and I hated my job, so I’d spent all my free time studying the history of Wayne manor. Allegedly, Mr. Wayne had sold the land off to a company based in South Korea, but the sale happened around his retirement. I couldn’t find the name of the company (or any human names) from my research.

The place seemed untouched. No news or announcement on any new developments. It was like Mr. Wayne left the property to rot.

I should have told someone about my investigation. But then again, I didn’t even know if I’d find anything. I was surprised the pass codes worked. It was instinctual to enter the numbers at the gate and door. Now that I was inside, I could text my best friend. Let them know where I was and why I was there.

But before I could take my phone out of my bag, I heard voices in the distance. Turning away from the closed front door, I saw light in the distance. Like there was an area down the hallway toward the right side that had a lamp light on.

Quietly, I walked carefully toward the light source, listening for more noises. The voices were too far away to make out but there was more than two people inside the manor.

Walking down the hallway, I took a quick glance around. The manor looked pristine, like it’d been cleaned from top to bottom regularly. Fully furnished, room to room, but eerily quiet and still.

Making it to the end of the hallway, I saw a set of stairs leading downwards, the light source coming from below.

Taking my phone out, I took a picture of the stairway that led downwards. It looked like it had appeared behind a sliding wall of some kind. A hidden entrance.

Slowly, left hand holding my phone out, I entered. I heard voices echoing along the giant cave.

“...days til we can unleash Batman Project 9.0 -”

“No one agreed on that as the title.”

“Johnny!”

“Hey, c’mon guys. We have to get all the cars into the cave before sunrise. This is Robin’s most important project.”

Step by step on the metal stairs, I got more and more insight into Mr Bruce Wayne’s secret hobby. He was…he was the Caped Crusader, the…

“It’s the Batman,” I blurted out, eyes falling to the symbol of the Batman - long wings with pointed tips inside a thick oval - adorned on a giant wall, red light adorned over the white sheet of the Batman symbol.

“Who the fuck are you?” There were a pair of hands on my shoulders from behind, pushing me forward. I gasped, losing my footing. “Johnny, did you order a seventh member?”

Making it to the bottom landing, I threw my hands out to catch onto the table, hip hitting the metal top. My eyes scanned the laptops and maps scattered on the table before going up to see four men standing before me.

All wearing black, all of them with hair slicked back. All tall and hovering over me. The tallest and broadest of the lot took a step forward, hands in his front pocket.

“You got her phone?” he asked, eyes on me before darting behind my left shoulder.

“She took a picture.” The guy who’d push me had dark red hair, big black eyes scanning me in my skin tight leggings. His front was up against my back as he handed my phone to the guy across the table. “I had no idea anyone even knew of our arrival.”

“I-I’m from the Gotham Gazette,” I said, trying to step away from the hot body behind me. I cleared my throat, standing up straight. “I-I got a tip that there was something going on here. Th-this is Mr Wayne’s mansion. W-what are you doing here? The people of Gotham deserve to know. When Mr. Wayne left, Batman did too. We always suspected-but-I”

My neck craned around as I took in the cave. Cars, guns, protective gear, too many screens and gadgets for me to take much else in.

“Well, we can’t have you revealing the truth of the Batman,” the tall guy holding my phone said. He handed my phone to another handsome man, before running a hand over his mouth, eyes scanning me. Less menacingly than the red haired guy. “If you want the protection like Mr Wayne and the Batman provided all those years ago, we can’t have you leave here. Not until we know what to do with you. Not until we launch the new Batman program. You’ll get a team of Batmans to help take care of your city. That’s what you want, right?”

I took a step back, seeing him step forward, but I ran right back into the red haired guy, his front hotter than just a moment ago.

“C’mon Johnny, she’s cute.” He planted his hands on the table, caging me into his arms. “We can get good PR if she works for the Gazette.”

“We can’t just let her loose based on her word,” the guy named Johnny said, hands back into his pants pockets.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t say anything to anyone,” one of the men behind him stepped forward. Milky skin, intense glare in his eyes as his hands fisted at his sides. “I can take care of a small thing like that.”

“Hey, I have a name.” I balled my own hands into fists. I'm not afraid to let these strangers know who I am. I have nothing to hide. I told them as much, giving them my name, telling them exactly how long I've lived on earth in Gotham, knowing my love and care for the rotten city went deeper than any of these strangers.

“We aren’t here to hurt you,” someone spoke up behind me. A beautiful man with pouty pink lips walked down the stairs, big eyes staring at me. “We want to clean up Gotham, too. We were all orphans. What do you think Mr Wayne did when he retired?”

“He…” I looked around. One tall handsome man after another. First one, Johnny. He was the only one with a name. Behind stood the man with the intense stare, his eyes making your heart beat faster. A taller guy stood behind him fiddling with a switchblade in his hands. Behind you stood the hot bodied red head and the beautiful pouty lipped stranger. “He raised an army of new Batmans?”

“So far only six of us,” Johnny said. He held a hand out, as if offering for me to take it. “I need you to trust us. We want to help. I’m Johnny.”

“I’m Jeno,” said the guy with the intense stare. His demeanor softened as Johnny shook my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Don’t mind Jeno,” the one with switchblade said, throwing an arm around Jeno’s neck. “He’s more bark than bite. I’m Hendery.”

“Yuta, if you want to know my name,” the red haired guy said as he refused to let up space between us. His hand touched my hip. I stepped away, almost colliding into the pouty pink lipped guy. “Shy.”

“Come on Yuta, be nice.” The pouty lipped beauty gestured for me to take Johnny’s hand. “I’m Jungwoo.”

“Meet our young savant, Jisung,” Johnny said when I took his hand once more, stepping away from Yuta. He led me deeper into the cave, down a small set of stairs and toward an opening behind a dark corner. “Jisung! We made a new friend.”

I stopped, back colliding against Yuta as he remained behind me. He looked much older than I last remembered.

Jisung.

Handsome with muscular arms as a man. Sparkling eyes still soft with his pointed chin and high cheekbones. He belonged with his five handsome friends. All making me blush as they stared at me.

“Y-you’re supposed to meet us tomorrow,” he said. “Didn’t you get my letter? Who let you in?”

“You sent me that letter?” I wanted to punch his arm like when we were little, neighbors who played together. He could have simply come over to my place and explained. “There was nothing in there!”

His eyes scrunched up with his nose as he threw a hand to his forehead.

“I forgot to put the letter in with the picture.” He sighed, staring at me. My whole body flared up, seeing his eyes scan down and up my body. “At least Haechan dropped it into the right locker. You’re smart, figuring it all out with just the picture-not that I expected anything less from you.”

“Well, I did solve all the riddles in class,” I said, standing up straight. “What the hell is going on? Are you really bringing back the Batman?"

“I heard you needed help getting a foot into the Gotham Gazette, so why not team up with us?” he said. “I told Johnny I could get good PR with you.”

“This is-” I looked around the room, dozens of vehicles lined up neatly in the garage, domed walls making me feel like I could fall over at any second, “-impressive. What am I supposed to do?” “Tell the truth about what’s really happening with the criminals working with the corrupt cops and politicians,” Johnny replied. “We’ll have a security team work with you. Ensure no one’s following you or trying to breach into your phone and private affairs. We plan to keep your contacts anonymous and safe too.”

“And how am I supposed to trust you?”

“Come on,” Jisung said, walking closer to you. “I stayed up all night watching over you that night your parents were gone. No one to look after us but each other.”

“And then you left me without a goodbye!”

Like the pain of losing a pet when I was little, I didn’t know how long I’d missed it until I saw Jisung staring at me with such a deep voice, eyes refusing to look away from me. My tears were wiped away with Jisung’s thumbs as he held my face in his palms.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lips against mine. Breathing mint into my mouth, taking over my senses. “We were kids. I didn’t know how to find you. Not until I returned.”

“Until now?!” His arms were around me, lips pressing against mine. I wanted him to keep kissing me, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“So don’t leave me.” His lips on my neck, he whispered my name against me. “Stay. Stay with me.”

“With us,” Yuta said. I held onto Jisung tighter as I felt a hand on my lower back. “You have to tell her, Jisung.”

“Tell me what?” I asked, pulling away from Jisung, standing up straight to look into his eyes. “Jisung? Tell me what?”

“You have to earn our trust too,” Johnny said. “Jisung vouched for you, we did a background check, but I have a strict third rule in terms of trust.”

Jisung took a step back as Johnny stood before me, hands going to my hips. His hands roamed down my ass before gliding up my sides and his long fingers fondled my breasts. Hands grazing down my back and between my thighs. Down my calves before he stood up and pressed his body against me.

“You seem clean,” he said, fingers pulling my chin up to stare into his eyes. “If you’re not in the Batman program I can only trust you if you can handle all six of us.”

“W-what?” I snorted. “Straight out of Pornhub. What a convenient rule to throw onto me when I’m alone with 6 strong men.”

“Yeah, more or less,” Johnny said, hands on my hips as he pressed his front against me, hot cock hardening against my stomach. “You were a stupid fucking girl to sneak in here in the dead of night. Trespassing on private property. Honestly, I’d cage you up for that. But since you’re Jisung’s friend, this is considered a gift.”

“Jisung.” My eyes darted over to him, right behind Johnny. My heart beat thrumming against my throat as I felt Yuta’s breath at the crook of my neck, his cock poking against my ass. “You’re not…you’re not going to-” “Rules are rules.” Jisung's eyes were cold as he unbuckled the fastening at the wrist of his leather gloves. “I know you can handle this. You’re a fighter. We need fighters on our side.”

The confidence he had in me helped me take in a deep inhale, shaky breath outwards as my hands went under Johnny’s pants, helping him untuck his shirt.

“Fast learner, I like that,” he said, hands helping me unbutton his shirt. “Get down on your sexy knees and suck some dick.”

My whole head was spinning. Hands gliding down Johnny’s thick thighs as I dropped down to my knees. The words and affection of these men was convincing me to help Gotham out by using my body.

If I had to use my mouth on six cocks, I could do it. Prove to Jisung that I was as resilient as he believed me to be.

Johnny exhaled loud and slow as I planted kisses on his hard abs. Fingers undoing his belt buckle and zipper, palms stroking his long, thick cock. It was hot as it grew in my fist. A soft giggle escaped as I looked up at Johnny, seeing him bite his lip.

Hands massaging my scalp. He was impatient as one palm pressed against the back of my head, shoving my mouth against his wet, musky cock. Tongue licking along his length, I inhaled his taste. Licked and sucked his balls as I stroked his thick hairy cock.

“Fuck, keep it up.” He was lost in loud inhales and exhales, eyes shut as I put the tip into my mouth, sucking softly like I needed to drink up the contents inside his thick meat. “Shiit.”

I ate up more of him as I sucked in. Slowly sinking his cock in, inch by inch. Hoping my throat didn’t constrict until I had him in more than halfway. Hand massaging his balls, I gagged as his tip shoved down my throat, no air as it constricted.

“Don’t you fucking forget me,” I spat out as I stroked him fast, my slimy bubbly saliva all over his hairy cock. I sucked on his tip again, tongue swirling around the sensitive pink mushroom. “Who’s next?”

I looked over my shoulder to see Yuta undoing his pants. He’d been horny for me the second he laid eyes on me. I couldn’t wait to see if he could handle me.

I stood, pushing Johnny away as his fingers tugged at my jacket. I slipped it off, letting it fall to the floor as I walked over to Yuta, pushing him to sit onto the roof of a shiny black Porsche.

“Fucking pervert,” I breathed against his lips as his hands palmed my ass. “Haven’t been able to keep your hands off me, can you? Can’t wait to let me suck you dry?”

“Prove it.” His hands fell to his side as my hands went under his shirt to feel his abs. He was soft, smooth. A scent like ocean breeze and cloves right up into my sinuses as we kissed, my left hand slipping down his front to find a smooth, warming cock. “Anyone can choke on a giant cock.”

“Fuck you,” Johnny said. He groaned as I heard the wet noises of him stroking himself. “You’re going to cum the second she licks your balls.”

“Let’s see,” I said, smiling up at Yuta as he grabbed my hair, tugging my neck back. I whined, hands grasping onto his thighs for leverage. “Asshole.”

“Suck it,” he cooed out gently. Hissing with a loud exhale as I swirled my tongue around his tip. It poked against the left side of my cheek. I glided my tongue up against his sweet cock. Gathering saliva in my hand to stroke his base. “Fuck, you’re no fucking joke.”

I lifted his cock as I sucked his left nut before licking the right, using both hands to massage his shaft and tip.

“You’re a greedy fuck,” I said as I stood up, continuing to massage his tip with the tips of my fingers. “All about you and everything all over your cock.”

He pulled me in for a kiss, arms wrapping around my waist. Pervert sucking up my spit, making it a point to get a good taste of Johnny as his tongue explored my mouth.

“Go on, pick the next one,” Yuta said, releasing me, hands pulling my sweater off. “Whose dick will taste better than mine? Hm?”

I felt a hand palm my left breast, feeling blood rush up to my brain, making it hard for me to focus. A soft kiss on my shoulder as a pair of hands led me out of Yuta’s hot hold.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Jungwoo said, hands unhooking my bra from behind. “Press those pretty tits between my dick. Johnny, can I cum on her face?”

He looked away from me, standing up straight as he looked over at Johnny.

“You just want a titty job?” Johnny asked.

“We’re only cumming once?”

My whole body flared up like I'd been struck by lightning as I looked down at Jungwoo tugging his pants off. His pink cock wasn’t as hairy or thick as Johnny’s, but he was much longer than Yuta.

I was beginning to look forward to comparing the taste of their cocks. See whose cock fit my mouth the best. Jungwoo began pulling his clothes off, eyes on my body as he reached out to palm my tit.

“Jungwoo,” I said, hand reaching up to caress his muscular arms, “your body is amazing.”

“Thank you,” he said, face flushing pink. “I don’t have tits like you. Your body is amazing.”

I laughed against his lips as he pulled my body against his. His kisses were soft, he moaned when his tongue parted my lips.

“I’d love your tits around my dick,” he requested softly, hand stroking my neck.

I wanted to suck his dick dry, because he was so soft and gentle, but if he wanted a titty fuck…

I got down onto my knees, hands cupping my breasts as I wrapped them around his wet, squiggly cock. Holding my tits firmly around Jungwoo, I spat out to get some lube onto his tip.

The whole room was filled with low groans. My head snapped up as I saw all six men staring at me.

In that moment, spit gliding down between my tits and Jungwoo’s cock, I finally realized that I was fucking 6 guys.

All of them enjoying the sight of me.

Jungwoo moaned, hands scooping my hair up into a ponytail as his left hand held my hair secure. His hips thrust against me.

“So pretty,” he panted, praising me continually as his cock lit up my chest. “So fucking pretty. Your tits. Lovely.”

“My turn,” Jeno said loudly, hand wrapping around my arm as I felt Jungwoo’s breathing grow shallow. “Jesus, Jungwoo, learn to hold it in longer.”

Jungwoo’s whimpered, shriveling as I left his body. On my feet, I couldn’t stop staring at Jungwoo. Sweat was gliding down his bare chest, perfect nipples hardened as he nodded at me. Fighting to keep his eyes open as he breathed heavily through his mouth.

“I’ll cum later.”

“Pretty, pretty lips,” Jeno said softly as he pushed me to sit on top of a black Ferrari. Fingers groping my cheeks as his palm pressed up against my chin. “Been a while since I’ve had such pretty lips on my cock.”

My eyes shut, feeling his sweet sugary lips over mine. His mouth was clean, free from the cock musk of his 3 friends. I sucked on his lips, loving the sweetness over my sinuses and taste buds. He moaned onto my tongue as my hands palmed his stiff cock through his pants.

“More bark than bite,” I breathed against his neck before sucking on his porcelain skin. Tongue gliding up against his Adam’s apple, feeling his heartbeat against the tip of my tongue. “Make sure you never forget these pretty lips.”

He was quick to be rid of all of his clothes. He pulled me up to my feet before he pulled my leggings and panties off, stating I needed to be naked for him.

Kissing up and down his shaft, I shut my eyes, savoring the special earthy taste of Jeno. He was like a woodsy forest, dewy and mossy, filling my senses with his calming scent. Smooth cock, thick and hot against my lips.

Licking up and down his big dick, I opened my eyes to see him with furrowed eyebrows, mouth hanging open with intense focus on me. Lips finding the thick blue vein on the left side of his cock, I sucked on it gently before licking my tongue against it, savoring the way the vein pulsed angrily against my taste buds.

Fingers from both of his hands fisted into my hair as I swallowed his tip, loosening my jaws, wanting to take all of him in. He breathed evenly as he shoved my head back and forth on his cock.

“So fucking pretty,” he panted, grip on my hair tightening, sending blood right up to my scalp as he thrust his tip back and forth against my throat, paying no mind to me gagging and spitting onto him, “Jungwoo’s right, you’re so fucking pretty.”

He released my hair as my hands pushed against his hips. I coughed inhaling air, mouth free from his thick cock. Hands stroking him as I blinked away tears from my eyes. My entire vision blurred when I was choking on his cock. My nipples and clit were throbbing, wanting a cock to be rough on my pussy too.

“Saving the best for last,” Hendery said, hands smooth as he pulled off his black leather vest, revealing a tan body, six pack abs glistening with sweat. Pecks smooth and firm. “Consider me warm up for your childhood friend.”

Jeno had me in his arms as he planted kisses onto my tits. An electric jolt hit my clit as Jeno wrapped his mouth around my left tit and sucked hard on it. My mind blanked as my whole focus fell onto the unbearable pain of Jeno grinding his teeth onto my swollen nub.

I moaned, feeling another mouth clamp around my right breast. Hendery sucked hard, his teeth giving my right tit the same pleasure Jeno gave my left.

“She’s good,” Hendery said through gritted teeth, hand shoving against Jeno’s chest.

I giggled, hands holding onto Hendery’s shoulders as he stepped me away from Jeno’s possessive hold. His lips went to suck on my neck before landing over my lips. Hand on my chin, he broke our kiss. Lips almost as sweet as Jeno.

His hands roamed down my back, groping my ass before caressing my sides and tits. His mouth returned to my tits, eyes barely open as he continually kissed and licked my fleshy mounds. I shut my eyes, blood rushing up my back when he made eye contact with me, tongue licking my left tit.

“I want to play with you so much,” he said softly, fingers pressing up against my slit. My hips shook as I pushed myself closer to him. “Show me how good you can suck my dick, first. Kinky little thing.”

Obedient to his gentle order, I got down onto my knees, hands helping him tug his pants down as he sat down onto the table. Shutting my eyes as I wrapped my mouth around his citrusy musk, like inhaling oranges as his tip twitched down my throat, tickling my tonsils.

“Yes, so good.” His soft hisses encouraged me to keep bobbing back and forth. The taste of his cock was addictive, I wanted to keep sucking, as if his cock was an orange creamsicle. I wanted the foamy white stuff. “Fuck.”

His voice pitched up high, palm resting at the crown of my head as I sucked faster, left hand massaging his balls.

“How do you like it?” I asked, inhaling loudly when I let go of his tasty cock. My tongue lapped up sloppily against his balls as I fisted his shaft, stroking fast, chest swelling as Hendery’s hips shook and he whined. “Kinky enough for you, Hendery?” “Better not cum,” Johnny spoke up. “Hend, get it together man.”

“She’s a good cock sucker.” Hendery groaned, hands on my shoulders to pull me away from his cock. My jaw was hurting, knees feeling numb and raw, but the shy half smile he gave me sent a sharp surge of energy into me. I wanted to keep sucking him off. Find out if Hendery’s cum tasted as good as his cock. “Fuck, you’re a good cock sucker.”

“Thank you,” was all I could say, cheeks flushing.

“Come on.” Soft baritone reverberating down my spine as a pair of hot hands pulled at my hips, away from Hendery. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for months.”

“Jisung.” I turned around to see him with sweaty hair, damp tendrils falling over his eyes. I moaned as his fingers glided up and down my sides. His hand landed on my shoulder. “I-i…are you sure you want to do this with me?” His hand over my right led me to his stiff cock, smooth and hot. His eyes closed, his head tilted up into the air, hissing as I stroked down on him. I kept stroking him, feeling tears welling at the corners of my eyes.

Chest shaking, I wanted to please Jisung. I wanted to taste him. I knew he’d taste better than anyone else, but…

Blinking away the tears, I fell to my knees. Mouth kissing his tip, I laughed against his cock as it twitched. Tongue swirling around his tip, I stroked the bottom of his shaft before kissing his cock well. I wanted to know every centimeter of his cock against my lips, never forget Jisung’s cock.

His groan rang deep into me when I pushed his cock into my mouth. Thick tip engulfing the entirety of my mouth as I tried to suck in more. Tongue lapping up against him as best as I could. Savoring his earthy musk, licking up his bitter sweat. Making my mouth pool, pussy just as wet.

Tears leaking out the corners of my eyes as I looked up at him, hands massaging his balls. I tried to steadily suck his cock, but I felt a shiver ride up my back.

Releasing him, I let out a sob. I landed down on my ass, legs tucked under me as I wiped my tears away. Jisung called out my name, stooping down to pick me up.

I felt at least 3 pairs of hands on my body as I got onto my feet. Shaking my head, I thought of the glint of pride in his eyes when he said he needed a fighter.

“Fuck me, Jisung,” I said, sitting on the edge of the table. “Anywhere and any way. Who wants the other hole?” “Fuck, look at how kinky you are,” Hendery said, body pressed up against my left side, fingers fondling my folds. He hissed when I moaned, body hot with pleasure. “I knew you were kinky.”

“Yuta’s got dibs on the asshole,” Yuta said, pulling me back onto my feet.

“Of course.” I laughed as I felt his arms wrap around my waist, lips on my neck.

Yuta laid down onto the edge of the Porsche, hand fisting his cock, keeping himself hard. Jisung helped me get onto the car, hands unable to stop groping my body, fingers teasing my folds. Lips on my body as I laid on top of Yuta, back to Yuta.

My mind blanked as Jisung stood over me, bending over so he can position his cock against my pussy. Looking up at him, seeing sweat drip down his chin, gliding down the sides of his face, my whole body throbbed along to Yuta’s heartbeat underneath me. Head falling against Yuta’s chest as I felt Jisung's thick cock slide into my wet hole.

“Sucking that much dick makes you wet.” Jisung grunted, hands firmly holding onto my hips. I mewled, feeling him go in deeper, cock squirming as my walls enveloped him. Palming my tit, he nodded as he stilled inside of me. “Fucking precious cunt, you're mine.”

“Ji-jisung,” I moaned. Eyes shut, my hands squeezed his arms as I felt Yuta guiding the tip of his cock into my ass. “Yuta, y-you didn’t-lube-or-prep-”

“I’ll be slow,” he breathed against my ear. The knots in my stomach twirled tight as I felt two throbbing cocks fill both my holes. “So tight.”

“Get to sucking,” Johnny ordered, hand fisting my hair as he directed my mouth to his cock. He stood beside the low sitting car, cock right against my face. I moaned, refusing to break eye contact with him as I took more of him in, trying my best to loosen my throat and jaws. He groaned, controlling me with his fist in my hair. “Good girl. I’ll trust you when you swallow my cum.”

My entire body was ablaze. All I could focus on was trying to breathe through my nose as Johnny’s massive cock assaulted my throat, my neck straining. Senses overloaded as I struggled to breathe or taste anything but Johnny's salty cock.

My pussy was aching. Jisung didn’t give any shits how Yuta’s cock was affecting me. His thrusts were relentlessly fast as he chased for his release. Hands kneading my tits as he groaned out praises over how good my pussy was. Moaning around Johnny’s cock, he benefitted from the ways Jisung fucked me.

Yuta’s ragged breaths shaking under me sent chills deep into me, slow careful thrusts against my asshole creating deep ripples of pressure into my guts. Relentlessly slow and pleasurable, I moaned onto Johnny’s cock again.

My grip on Jisung’s thighs tightened as I felt Johnny’s hot cum spurt into my mouth. Holding my head still with both hands Johnny grunted as he shoved his cock down my throat.

“Swallow it,” he commanded, voice sharp. “Swallow.”

Obeying I gulped as best as I could with his cock keeping my mouth open. Gulping again when his cock left. He laughed as he got down and kissed me, tongue lapping all over lips and chin. He hummed against my lips before letting me go.

“Fuck, Jisung, she’s one hell of a fuck.” Johnny’s heavy panting intensified the shivers down my back with every thrust of Yuta’s throbbing cock inside my asshole. “Fuck, get to it Jungwoo.”

Yuta cummed, hips thrusting up hard, interrupting Jisung’s fast strokes. I gasped, whining as Yuta’s tip pressed up hard into me. Such a hard thrust, it felt like he hit the back of my cervix. I barely had mind to notice Jisung getting off, cursing as he glared at Yuta.

I whined, feeling Yuta’s cum heat up my ass. Eyes shut, I bit my bottom lip as the tingles rode up my back into my guts.

It wasn’t until his lips were against me did I realize that Jisung had me in his arms. Yuta had given me to Jisung once he got his release.

What a fucking gentleman.

Jisung’s soft lips on me brought my mind back to him. I wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking him gently, hoping he hadn’t gotten hurt with Yuta’s greedy fucking.

“Jeno, let her sit on your lap.” Jisung let me go as he looked over to Jeno. He smiled, hand fisting his cock. “Put on a good show.”

“About fucking time,” Jeno said, taking my hands as he sat down on the Ferrari. Hands fondling my breasts as he pulled me onto his lap. “Gorgeous body. Soft tight pussy. Let’s get it, Jungwoo.”

I shivered, heat riding down my back as Jeno’s teeth nipped my earlobe. Tongue gliding down the side of my neck. Left hand squeezing my tit as his right hand parted my legs wider with every soft caress down the inside of my thighs.

“Fuck.” I moaned, whimpering as the pads of his fingers stroked up and down against my aching clit. Tip of his middle finger sinking into my pussy. “Jeno, I like how you handle me.”

“I know,” he whispered against my ear, tongue teasing the shell, “so hot deep in here. For me, yeah? For me.”

I moaned as his finger went in deep, thumb rubbing against my clit. Lips on the pulse at the side of my neck, Jeno’s fingers left my pussy. Instantly, his cock was parting my lips, tip prodding against my clit.

“Time to multitask,” Jungwoo said, stepping forward, eyes fixed on my face. His lovely, big brown eyes scanned down my body, long slender fingers massaging my tit. “So pretty, I want to see those pretty lips on me.”

“Yes Jungwoo.” One hand caressing his abs, fingers collecting his hot sweat as I curled them into a fist before laying my palm flat to marvel his abs again. My other hand wrapped around his long cock. Hot thing pulsating, wet with clear precum leaking out the tip.

Tip of my tongue flicking against his tip, I tried to rub my taste buds against him, taste every bit of Jungwoo. I want to see if I could get those giant puppy eyes to bulge out, surprised with how good my mouth is. He whimpered, hands gently bobbing my head up and down as he thrust against my mouth.

“Fuck, suck him good,” Jeno breathed out, hands on my hips as he bounced me on his cock. I whined onto Jungwoo’s cock as I felt Jeno’s middle finger flicking my clit. “Cum on my cock. Cum on me.”

Trying to stroke Jungwoo’s shaft as I sucked on his balls, I tried not to get lost in the way Jeno’s cock was sending mind melting thrusts into me. Giant cock rearranging my insides as his fingers mashed my clit around like an elevator button.

I sucked hard when Jungwoo came, his hands holding onto my head as he stilled. Cute thing was silent when his cock softened in my mouth. His beautiful long fingers caressed my cheeks as he let me go. Silently walking away to pick up his clothes as Jeno stood us up.

He turned us around, my knees and palms hitting the top if the Ferrari. Hands on my hip Jeno pushed himself balls deep into me. One hand reaching for my right tit, he thrust back and forth hard. First time, I cried as the motions of his cock turned my vision red. Second time, we moaned together as he pulled me up against him, hand kneading my tit.

“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he panted, hand on my shoulder to push me forward, forcing me to plant my hands against the Ferrari again. Left hand on my hip as his hips slapped my ass. “Make me cum.”

“Jeno!” He spanked me. First on the right side and then the left.

“Tight cunt,” he panted with a guffaw. He kept spanking me with his cast iron skillet palms, red heat reverberating so deep into me my insides shook like Quasimodo ringing the bells of Notre Dame. My walls constricted around his cock again. He groaned as he quickened his pace. “Fuck, make me cum.”

By his own accord, he came as he spanked my asscheeks into bright red hot plates. Cock heating up hotter - like thick molten lava - in my belly before he pulled out and spilled his cum over my ass, smearing his cock against my thighs when he finished cumming. All I could feel and smell was Jeno's musk. Body reverberating with undiluted pleasure.

“Territorial shit,” Hendery said, pulling me away from Jeno. “You don’t always have to mark things when you cum.”

“Get it over with,” Jeno panted out, sitting back down onto the hood of the now fucked up Ferrari, eyes barely open. Sweaty back making squeaky noises as he laid down on it, completely naked.

Hendery rested his back against another black car - another Ferrari - as he kissed me. His soft kisses sent calming shivers down my body. His gentle touches on my body relaxing my muscles.

“Don’t think I’m done with you,” Jisung breathed against my ear before I felt him kiss the back of my shoulder.

I yelped, honeyed swoon as he tugged my ass against him, hand on my lower back guiding me to lean down closer to Hendery’s cock. Hendery’s citrusy musk consumed my senses as I took hold of his cock, licking up against the underside of his wet stick. My tongue glided over the parting of his ballsack, sucking up his sweet fresh musk as I felt Jisung glide his cock against the puffy lips of my pussy.

Hips shaking, I was ready to cum. Moaning into Hendery’s cock, I thrust my hips back, wanting Jisung’s cock to ruin me.

They both praised me as Hendery moaned at my mouth sucking on his smooth cock and Jisung sunk his cock into my wet pussy. Stroking Hendery hard, I licked around his tip, hoping he would come fast. My mouth was aching and my back was shaking, legs feeling weak.

Most of all I wanted to savor Jisung fucking me. His cock was heating my insides like the best cup of coffee on a chilly winter morning. Keeping me comfortably warm with every stroke into me.

Without warning, Hendery cummed into my mouth. Hands keeping my head still as he ordered me to swallow him.

“Swallow it good,” he said, similarly to Johnny. “Swallow, good girl. Good - fucking - girl.”

He fondled my breasts - soft fingers rolling my sensitive nubs around like marbles - as Jisung continued to fuck me. My hands grasped onto Hendery’s hips as I shut my eyes, moaning as Jisung’s cock radiated up into my stomach and up to my chest.

Hips thrusting against Jisung, I moaned as my entire body was hot and sweaty, lost in complete sex and lust. The stench of all 6 men all over me with my own sloppy sex all over the Bat Cave.

My back was pressed to Jisung’s front as he bent over, fingers intertwined with mine as he wrapped our arms around my waist. His thrusts were relentless, hips slapping roughly against my ass. He grunted, arms pulling me tighter against him as he came. Cum lighting up inside me, dripping down my legs.

"Jisung." I inhaled shakily as his cock left me. I fell to my knees, palms against the concrete to catch my fall. "Holy fuck, Jisung."

“You did great,” Jisung panted out, throwing a large trench coat over my shoulders, picking me up in his arms. “I told you, you’re a fighter.”

“Jisung,” I panted out, eyes roaming over the Batman symbol on the wall behind us adorned on the wall, “do you trust me now?"

Forehead against mine he nodded. A soft kiss on the lips. A calming warmth rode over my aching body, completely stuffed with cum. Sex filth all over me as all six Johnny, Yuta, Jungwoo, Hendery, Jeno and Jisung left me in ruins. Comfortably in Jisung’s arms.

"For today."

* * * THE END * * * Thank U 4 Reading! Like, reblog and send in Ask if you liked it!

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agent-cupcake · 2 years

Text

Trouble Man

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

Pairing: Arkhamverse Jason Todd x f!reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 17k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

II.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, I’ll have that.”

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

“Alright,” you said. “Anything else?”

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

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

“Will do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And after you leave?”

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

“They might,” he agreed easily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Red flag? Innocuous boast?

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

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

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

“I’m not very big on comedy.”

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

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

“Not… everything,” you replied. “I-”

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

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

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

“Do your job?” he asked dryly.

“Yeah, that. Let me know if-”

“Will do.”

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

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

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

“No pie?”

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

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

He snorted. “I’ll pass.”

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

"Thanks for what?"

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

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

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

It was still raining when you left.

III.

Sometimes, you had a tough time being positive.

Most of the time, really.

Gotham did that to people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

IV.

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

“Gotham, this is your only warning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

VI.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, sir.”

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

“Yes, I think I do.”

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

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

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

“Thank you, sir,” you said.

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

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

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

“What about a boyfriend?”

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.”

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

VII.

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

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

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

Almost everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, they won’t find anything.”

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

“I-”

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

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

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

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

“They?” she prompted, cutting you off.

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

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

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

“Did you hear anyone else?”

“No.”

“And what were they doing?”

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

“What were they arguing about?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“He didn’t see you?”

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

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

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

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

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

VIII.

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

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

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

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

Somebody grabbed you from behind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breathing hard through your nostrils, you grunted in assent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why are you here?”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, you gave them quite the story.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You set your jaw, folding your arms.

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

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

Jason shot you a sideways look. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jason-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did I say?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

“Seriously?” he asked.

“I-I’m so-”

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

“No, I-I’m not-”

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

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

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

“That’s not true,” you told him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A little louder, princess,” Jason responded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re what? Even? Not even close.”

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

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

“But I told you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Jason… God, please.”

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

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

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

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

“Least you brought protection,” you muttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’ll… they’ll hear, we can’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, you do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whined in distress, pushing at him.

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

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

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

“Jason…Jason-”

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

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

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

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

“Can you stand up?” Jason asked instead.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m tired,” you mumbled.

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

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

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

#batman arkham knight #arkhamverse #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd #red hood #dc #my writing #not sfw #tw.dubcon

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hanasnx · 2 months

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your voice.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: posted this on my other blog before i deleted it, re-posting here WARNINGS: terry’s old friend is an asshole | the term “friend” is used loosely he’s just someone from terry’s past | mentions of: groping, jacking off, sucking off, & backshots | “friend” speaking of you sexually to piss terry off | no explicit smut but the details and plot of this piece is smutty | locker room talk | established relationship.

“Is that your girl?” the voice on the other line interrupts TERRY McGINNIS's stupor, effectively snapping him out of gluing his eyes to your behind. Adorable, pink pajama shorts ridden up as far as they can go, supple ass hanging out in a way that invites him to stare. Not to mention encourage him to grope.

“Hm?” Terry responds thoughtlessly at first, but corrects it once his friend’s words process, “Yeah- yeah.” Expertly, he skirts around letting you know you’re being talked about. Unable to help himself, he steals another glance at you. The dimples on your lower back peeking out from your crop top, swaying your hips to an inaudible rhythm as you swipe a spread onto toast. The memory of how perfectly Terry’s thumbs slot into those dimples as a handle during backshots dissipates when his old friend speaks again.

“Sounds fucking hot. Is she? Wish she was on the mic instead of you.” All you’d done is enter his friend’s ear shot earlier, close up to the bluetooth when you’d kissed Terry’s cheek and asked if he wanted a sandwich since you were fixing one up for yourself already. Apparently, your sweet and airy voice was enough for whatever poor, desperate soul who heard it to beg for more. Terry knows firsthand the kind of affect your vocal chords have on him. He’s probably gotten far enough down your throat to fuck them when you’d sucked him off this morning. It’s just not a card he’s willing to pull to shut his friend up right now.

Terry knows a thing or two about his temper, especially aware of how people use it to their advantage if they‘ve been around him long enough. “C’mon, man, lay off. You’re just sayin’ that to get on my nerves.” he redirects as coolly as possible. It’s obvious, he’s being teased, he won’t fall for it so easily. Just in case it escalates, he paces away, pressing the bluetooth further into his ear as if paranoid you’d— somehow— hear its contents even if you are now well out of ear shot.

“Hell yeah, I wanna get on your nerves. I’m fucking jealous.” the so-called friend scoffs. “Fuck, wish she’d talk to me like that.” There’s a shift on the other end, and Terry frowns until the unmistakable and distasteful sounds of acting out self pleasure fill his ear. “No, wait,” he fakes an effeminate moan, the rapid disheveling of clothing reminding Terry of how sleeves brush the wrinkles of a shirt when a hand jacks off a dick. “go grab her- get her on the phone, I wanna rub one out real quick.”

What an asshole. Terry rolls his eyes so hard they hurt. “Thanks for reminding me why I don’t talk to you anymore.” He rips the earpiece out, with the unnerving noise of his old pal’s harrowing laughter echoing in his brain.

#indy: drabbles #ch: terry #terry mcginnis drabble #terry mcginnis smut #terry mcginnis x reader #terry mcginnis x fem reader #terry mcginnis x you #terry mcginnis x y/n #terry mcginnis imagine #terry mcginnis fic #terry mcginnis fanfic #terry mcginnis fanfiction #batman beyond smut #batman beyond x reader #batman beyond fic #batman beyond fanfiction

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dosiido · 9 days

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Through lidded eyes, you look up at the lens in front of you just in time to catch the flash going off. You squint more, vision blurred, and eyes almost watering from the bright light. "Open those pretty eyes for me, baby," a large hand lifts your chin, and you peer up at the figure behind the camera through your lashes. "C'mon," he says, "I know you've got more in you."

You cross your arms under your tits, pushing them up and straightening your back to get them in frame. Another click of the camera sounds, followed by the faint sound of a picture printing. He shakes it out briefly before tossing it to the floor. "Smile," he says, "you know I like it when you smile."

Pearly whites on display and naked for only him to see, you pose again. He stalks around the bed, and the camera shutters again as he captures you from another angle. Another picture flutters to the ground, and before you can catch a glimpse of the photo, the sound of a belt unbuckling catches your attention.

He pulls his cock out of his pants. Half hard while he strokes it slowly, beads of pre-cum collecting at the tip as he holds the camera in his other hand. Intense eyes bore into you more than a lens ever could, and you shift your gaze away from his face, intimidated by the way he zeroes in on yours.

As you take in the clothes and photos littered across the dimly lit room, your eyes circle back to your body and the position you're in. Hands and knees digging into the plush comforter, and head slightly lifted, perfect for someone to make a mess of your face.

"Terry, maybe we should-" the camera clicks again, cutting off your sentence. He's right above you now, fully hard, stroking significantly faster, and you look up at him, watching as his dick moves closer to your face.

"Stay still."

#terry mcginnis #terry mcginnis x reader #terry mcginnis smut #terry mcginnis drabble #terry mcginnis imagine #batman beyond x reader #batman beyond smut #batman beyond drabble #batman beyond imagine

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addicted-to-dc · 1 year

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Jason Todd/Arkham Knight X AFAB!Reader - Ghosts (Final)

Warnings: Smut (18+), angst, swearing. Wrap it before you tap it, friends.

Word Count: 2.8k

Entangling yourself in the rafters of a warehouse, you watch from a distance as militiamen haul equipment from underground tunnels. You have to give it to the Knight, he has his ass covered when it comes to staying under the Bat’s radar.

You did as he requested, covering up every single loose end that would catch Batman’s eye. It scares you how quickly you changed over the course of six months, but you can’t blame yourself. The Arkham Knight left you alone after setting fire to your world. Unfortunate witnesses were disposed of without hesitation, your body was pushed beyond its limits, and your tech was further developed to ensure you would never lose your edge again. The Knight may have caught you in his web, but you will make sure that you survive.

His presence could be felt everywhere. The Knight left, but you know he has eyes and ears on you. It’s a risky choice to bring an unknown factor into his fragile plan. You’ve guarded his secrets, going so far as to manipulate Batman into avoiding any loose ends that could risk exposure. You’re sure that came at a cost, your anonymity crumbling as you put your ghostly status on the line for the sake of the Knight’s plan.

Huffing, you maneuver yourself towards the exit, sick of watching the militia filtering in like ants. Slipping out of the building, you move to the roof of the building and sigh. It’s a cold night. One that’s just the right temperature to sink its freezing claws right through your armor. An upgrade for some type of heater would be nice, but it would defeat the purpose of being uncomfortable in this uniform.

The design is similar to your previous ones, but it’s significantly more offensive. You can’t even remember how you survived like that, a nobody that relied on being unseen. That night 6 months ago scared the shit out of you, but you guess death staring you in the face shifted your priorities. You were just as unaware as Gotham is right now, oblivious to the bigger threat until it sideswipes you and everything you built yourself to be.

Your head twitches as you hear a quiet thud as someone lands behind you. You’re thankful that you gave yourself a 360 degree feed of your surroundings, or else you’d whip around cluelessly to see who it is. No, it’s not Batman, but it’s another presence that you’ve been dreading. You turn around.

He hasn’t changed one bit. Your heartbeat quickens as soon as you see him with your own eyes, his hulking figure growing closer and closer. It’s like a game of cat and mouse, and you’re sure he’s stalking towards you like you’re his prey. He closes the distance between you, the glowing eyes from his helmet burning into yours.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” you say, glad that your helmet disguised the shakiness of your voice.

You lean back against the railing, holding eye contact as he leans forward. His armor clinks against yours. The biting cold disappears as his body heat spreads over you. A shiver threatens to crawl up your spine, but you manage to keep it at bay. Gods, he’s been gone for 6 months and you can’t even keep it together the second he’s back.

“I wanted to talk,” he states, his eyes moving out to look at the city. “There’s been a change in plans.”

You push yourself away from the railing, unsure how this conversation will continue, “Don’t tell me you’re cutting me out. I’ve done everything that you’ve asked without question.”

“And you will be rewarded for that,” he replies, turning to look at you, “but Batman is mine alone to face. I need you to do something else when everything goes down, something crucial.”

You fold your arms, the cold sinking its claws into you once again, “What’s so crucial to remove me from the fight? What has changed?”

“You,” he responds.

You tilt your head, unsure what response will follow.

“You sacrificed a lot to protect this,” he says, gesturing to the building below. “Batman is catching onto you, and I can’t risk connecting you to us. This fight is not worth your secrecy.”

“This fight,” you spit, “has become everything to me. You can’t-”

“I can't do what?” the Knight asks, stepping into your space once again.

You glare at him, “Batman is going to die, why are you so set on preventing something that won’t even matter? Getting cold feet?”

His hand immediately wraps around your throat, lifting you from the ground as he pulls you closer to his face. Your helmets knock together from the impact. Your arms move to push yourself away, free yourself from his grasp, but he doesn’t budge.

“Struck a nerve?” you choke out, “Good, we’re both feeling like shit.”

You struggle against his grip once again, your legs flailing to ruin his balance. He slightly struggles to keep you close, allowing you to stand. His hands remain fastened to your neck, yet his grip loosens. The cold weather is long forgotten as your heart beats too damn fast. You can’t help but chuckle, your feelings mixed as he ignites something in you. It’s the spark that he stole from you six months ago.

The endless void that consumed you all these months is finally satiated as soon as he presses the release on his helmet, the mask lifting up to reveal that face that’s taunted you in your dreams. Your helm is next, the cold air burning against your heated face.

You finally allow yourself to see him as Jason, not the Arkham Knight. His sunken, but fiery eyes take you in. His spare hand slowly travels down your back, pushing you against him. A slight gasp escapes your mouth, your eyes wandering all over his face for some type of hint at what he’s planning to do with you. He angles your head, almost as if he’s considering snapping your neck, but he leans in and forcefully molds his lips to yours.

Your eyes flutter as the months of tension finally melt away, your hands grasping the edges of his armor plating as if it’s your lifeline. The hand around your neck slips away, moving to stabilize your back. Jason pulls you even closer, nearly crushing whatever air supply you have left.

You’re the one to pull away, staring into his eyes as your hand moves to grasp his chin, “What do you want, Jason?”

“You,” he responds, your helmets knocking together as he tries to kiss you again. “It’s always been you.”

Leaning forward, you scrape your helm against his, “You’re going to have to try and get me first.”

Sweeping underneath his legs, Jason falls to the ground as you run for the railing. You flip over it, closing your faceplate as you fall. Aiming your grappling hook, you gracefully use your momentum to launch yourself towards your nearest safe house. You run across the side of the building as you aim once again, flipping onto the nearest rooftop.

Maybe it was a little childish to run away like that, but the look on his face made it worth it. Jason will catch you, you’ll make sure of it, but you want to make him work for it. Laughing, you take the most complicated route you can muster, taking so many twists and turns it nearly confuses you. Your display warns you he’s close, following close behind. He’s almost as terrifying as the night that you first encountered him, but this isn’t the Arkham Knight chasing you. Jason Todd is many things, but he’s not a patient man.

You silently sprint over Gotham citizens that have no clue what’s about to happen, just going about their daily lives as more weapons and men are brought in by the day.

Once you’ve finally reached your destination, you input a command. Your window slides open, allowing you to slip right in without breaking the damned thing. Out of breath, you keep the lights off and wait for him to enter the room. He’s only a few seconds behind you and nearly breaks the window to get in. Without hesitation he tears his helmet off and tosses it onto a nearby chair.

You do the same as he stalks towards you, knocking it out of your hand as he forces you into the wall behind you. He traps you, pushing his hips forward to press you further into the wall. You curse your armor for its padding, barely feeling a thing as one of his knees slips between your legs. Both of your armor plating scrapes against the other as he finally yanks you in for a kiss. You’re both hungry for each other, finally giving in to the feelings that were buried for half a goddamned year.

“Ja-ay,” you stutter out, gasping as he pins your arms to the wall with one hand.

He glances at the gauntlets on your forearms, allowing one of your arms to escape from his grasp.

“Take it off,” he commands.

His voice makes you shiver, the vibrations running straight to your core. Your fingers reach over to the gauntlet still entrapped in his grasp. You shakily input the code, sighing in relief as your suit unlocks itself. Jason releases your arm.

Your suit loosens around you, your gauntlets and boots whirring open as they unclamp themselves from you. Removing your gloves, you finally place your unclothed hands onto his face. Your fingernails scrape against his face until they’re embedded into his hair. He grunts as he tosses away any stubborn hardware that refuses to fall to the floor. Jason pushes your hands away from him, finally allowing your bodysuit to fall from your frame.

Jason steps back and takes you in, his eyes nearly black as they devour the image of you. You’re left with your binder and underwear, your body exposed to him. He takes a few steps back and sits on your lounge chair.

“Come here,” Jason growls, leaning back into the chair.

You kick off your boots and step out of your suit, slowly stepping towards him. He removes his gloves and tosses them to the side, finally revealing those damn hands that he can’t keep off of you. The veins are visible even from a few feet away, driving you insane. Jason then removes his upper armor, finally letting you see him.

Once you finally get close enough, he pulls you onto his thigh. His thigh holsters drag deliciously across your clit, forcing a gasp out of you. Jason’s fingers dig into your hips, keeping you still. Huffing, you lean forward and dig your hands into his black hair. You let your hands roam as you explore his mouth, breathing heavily as he finally breaks.

Jason grabs your leg and pulls you closer, rutting into you as your teeth clink together. His hands roam your body, tracing each visible scar you’ve accumulated as the Ghost of Gotham. You’re stuck in the light from the window while Jason remains in the shadows, his figure hidden from you.

“You’re pretty bold for someone who’s benching me,” you bite out, moaning as his attention moves to your throat.

He scrapes his teeth against your pulse point, holding you still as his tongue explores your skin, “You’re talkative for a dead woman.”

A laugh escapes your throat, but it soon morphs into a gasp as he finally allows you to grind down on him.

“You need me,” you whisper, your voice wavering as he guides your hips across his bulge. “You’re just too afraid to let me slip between your fingers.”

“Why would I allow that?” Jason asks, pushing himself from the chair and taking you with him. “When I could keep you all to myself? Bedroom?”

“Door to the right,” you respond, wrapping yourself around him tightly as he maneuvers through your safehouse.

He kicks the door open, most likely splintering the wood, but you can’t even give a damn. You’re shoved against the bed, each kiss growing messier and messier until he rips your binder off of you. Your underwear is next as he cuts the fabric with his knife.

You shiver at the cold metal touching your heated skin. Jason drags the blade up, moving from your hips all the way up to your throat. You quiver as the knife stops at your throat, as if he’s considering embedding the metal into your flesh.

“I should kill you for what you said,” he whispers, slamming the knife in the nightstand beside the bed.

“You won’t,” you retort, gasping as his fingers slide into you without warning. “Fuck, you n-need me.”

You stubbornly hold back any noises that threaten to escape your throat. His fingers drag deliciously across your walls, forcing your hand to shoot out and grip his shoulder.

“Tell me you’re going to listen,” he orders, leaning forward to bite the column of your throat. “That you’ll leave Batman to me.”

“Fuck, why would you want to face him without me?” you ask, your voice wavering as he marks your neck.

“That’s not what I asked you to answer,” Jason says darkly, pulling his fingers away from you.

“Tell me why and I’ll consider it,” you snark back, your stubbornness wavering as he unbuckles his belt.

Jason doesn’t answer, only pushing down his tactical pants and boxers before kicking them aside as an answer. He leans forward, stealing another kiss from you before pushing you back into the bed. Without warning, he rolls you over so he’s beneath you. You stabilize yourself and look down on him, his intentions unclear.

“After everything I’ve done for you,” Jason tuts, lifting you hips up before sinking you down on his cock. “I’d expect you to be thankful.”

“What have you done for m-”

He pulls your hips down, forcing you to take him in one thrust. Your mind goes fuzzy, unable to compute anything as a loud moan finally escapes from you. He stays there, watching your resolve fall apart with a smirk. “There’s my thank you,” he chuckles, waiting for you to recollect your thoughts.

His fingers circle around your clit, making your recovery much more difficult. Your body betrays you as your hips start to move, grinding down on him as you finally adjust to his size.

You look down at him, watching every little change his face makes whenever you moved. He’s doing the same, his grip tightening on your hips. You’re sure that there will be bruises all over you by the time the two of you are done. Knowing that it’ll only get you in more trouble to be a brat to him, you lean down and adjust your hand placement.

Jason’s hands abandon your hips to spread your legs even further apart, forcing you to start bouncing on his cock. His hands are back onto your hips, reinforcing each thrust with his own. The two of you set a brutal pace, taking whatever you could from the other until you couldn’t stand it. You’re sure that you’ll have divots where his hands grip onto you.

“Tell me you’re going to obey your orders,” Jason says, abandoning his grip on your waist.

His hands slide up, weaving around your back to pull you closer. He controls the pace from there, dragging it out torturously until you break.

“I’ll obey,” you relent, your climax growing closer and closer as he takes in your answer. “Just- please!”

You melt in his arms as he takes control, thrusting into you like it’s his fucking job. One hand slips up and guides your face to look at him. He watches as you fall apart because of him, how quick your breathing becomes, and how many walls you let fall for the sake of him.

Every little sound and movement you make spurs him on even more, slamming into you at a bruising rate until you finally came. Jason fucks you through it, keeping your shaking form as still as he can until he freezes. He ruts into you as his heavy breathing melds with yours.

He lets you go slack against him and rests his arms over your back. You sigh, closing your eyes. Jason begins ghosting his fingers over your skin, slowly tracing each of your scars. He stops when he traces over a ‘J’ in the upper center of your back. He immediately tenses.

“He got to you, too?” Jason whispers, his grip around you tightens.

You move your hand to his, moving his fingers away from the scar, “Not now, Jason, just… just stay like this for awhile.”

His hands move away, and he sighs, “Okay.”

You relax against him, exhaustion taking over as he continues to trace over the rest of your scars. The knife on the bedstand is all you can focus on, falling asleep to the metal decorated with your blood.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader smut #red hood x reader smut #arkham knight x reader #arkham knight x reader smut

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iamnotthere-idonotdie · 2 months

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dream of me

part five: interlude

…………………………………………………………………………………….

synopsis: reader is dealing with the trauma of being kidnapped by the joker, they go to an event with bruce

content: bruce wayne x reader, no smut, mention of blood, beginning describes a frightening nightmare and causes a panic attack for protagonist, mention of traumatic events that characters went through (kidnapped, tortured, nearly killed), ptsd symptoms

a/n: this chapter is shorter than my last ones i think so i’m kind of treating it as an interlude into the next phase of this story. i also wanted to play with alfred’s character a bit too so i tried to incorporate him more. i couldn’t think of much else to write for this part so this is where i’m leaving it, but there will be more parts to come. sorry for ooc things for bruce and alfred, as well as if some of this isn’t canon, and of course i apologize for inevitable typos.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

the concrete is cold and hard. the light above your head is harsh and hurts your eyes. the rope is tight around your wrist and ankles. you scream for help but the only sound that comes out is a raspy wheeze. you sense a figure behind you. it’s him. you feel his dark presence looming over you as he slowly circles you and stops right in front. he leans in toward your face and smiles. he starts to laugh, but it grows louder and more high pitched until you’re sure your ears are bleeding from the demonic screeching. his eyes start to turn black and his teeth grow sharper until they’re practically just hundreds of needles coming out of his blood red gums. his smile stretches across his face wider and wider until his head is almost split in half. his hands reach for your throat and you try to scream again, to no avail. this is how you die.

your eyes burst open and your cheeks are wet from tears. as you sit up and try to catch your breath, you feel bruce’s hands wrapping around your shoulders.

“hey, hey it was a dream, it was a nightmare. it’s okay, i’m here. you’re here, not there. breathe in with me… and breathe out. breathe in… and out. in… and out. in… out…”

you finally start to steady your heart rate. the tears continue flowing, but you’ve just about caught your breath now. bruce gently wipes the tears off your cheeks and cradles your face with his hands.

“do you want to talk about it?”

you just shake your head. you can’t bring yourself to describe it out loud. it was beyond a nightmare. it was a memory. a horrible, disgusting, warped memory.

“okay, i understand. just keep breathing with me. here,” he grabs your hand and sets it on his bare chest. “feel that. feel me. i’m here.”

you look up into his eyes and see concern, hurt, sympathy, love. you hope he sees love from your eyes too.

it’s been four weeks now since the incident. since you were kidnapped, tortured, nearly killed. and everyday has been a different form of struggle. bruce has helped, but even he has his limitations. and his own struggles as well. being the batman brings about a different level anxiety, especially now that you know. every time he goes out, every night he puts the suit and mask on, your chest tightens and your hands shake until he returns.

and your hands are still shaking now as you continue trying to calm down. bruce puts his arms around you again and holds you close to him. you two just sit there for a while, in silence, with him holding you and the tears flowing. this isn’t the first time you’ve been pulled out of sleep by a memory of what happened, and you know it won’t be the last. nearly every time you close your eyes, your slumber is ripped from your clutches. you never manage to find it again. you’re not even going to try tonight. you and bruce just lay back down, his arms still cradling your body in a warm embrace. neither of you find sleep again, as the glow of morning peaks through the curtains. you just want to stay there in bed, with bruce, for as long as you can. with him you actually find some peace. your mind actually finds some quiet comfort. you wish you could be here all day with him.

you haven’t gone back to work since. bruce has gone in a few times in these weeks, but he tries to handle as much as he can at home. still, he’s been avoiding this event later today for a while and won’t admit that he really does need to go to it. it’s to announce a new free lunch program for all gotham schools, something he’s been hoping to do for long time. he needs to go. you finally break the long silence as you think more about it.

“what time is the event today?”

bruce sighs. “it starts at 4 o’clock.”

you glance over at the clock on the nightstand, its numbers glowing to show that he has about 7 hours until he needs to be there.

“i don’t think i’m going to go.”

you turn to him with furrowed brows.

“you have to go.”

“i don’t feel right leaving you. and i wouldn’t want to ask you to come, i know you don’t want to.”

you don’t want to, but you will if it means he does.

“i can go.”

“no, you don’t need to. i don’t want…”

“what?”

“i don’t want you to go if it’ll be too hard for you.”

“why would it be too hard for me?”

“it’s… it’s only been a few weeks. and there’ll be a lot of people there, reporters and the like. and they’ll all probably want to ask you questions about what happened. i don’t want you to have to go through that, to talk about things you don’t want to talk about. i just want you to be okay.”

“…i will be okay.”

bruce just sighs. the truth is… you’re not sure if you will be. and you know what he’s saying. though your body has healed, your mind hasn’t. and that many people, that many questions…

“still, i’ve barely left the house in days. i’m going through a lot and i know you are too, but i’m not as fragile as you think i am. i’m just… still working on putting myself back together.”

bruce leans in and kisses you.

“i know, i just want you to be alright.”

“i will be.”

“just… you need to promise me that if anything happens and you need to leave, you tell me, and we’ll go.”

“i promise.”

you kiss again and turn back over. you and bruce continue to lie there under the covers, staring through the crack in the curtains and out the window at the continuously brightening sky.

after a while you start to hear bruce’s snores behind you. you let him sleep for hours, knowing he had a late night and could use the rest. he finally wakes and the two of you make your way downstairs. alfred has already made lunch and you smell coffee brewing. it’s later than when you usually drink it, but you need the caffeine after last night. you sit at the kitchen table with bruce and quietly chat about the food, the weather, the event in a few hours. it’s nice conversation, but you can feel a tension between you and you know he’s still concerned about it. he just doesn’t want to press it any further. a small part of you wishes that he would. that he’d talk to you more about it. that you wouldn’t be forced into small talk. he finishes his meal quickly and goes downstairs to the basement where he says he needs to work on some things before the event. you know he just wants to be alone, so you don’t follow. alfred stands at the sink cleaning the dishes.

“so, you’ll be going to the event today as well then?” he turns to look at you with a concerned look.

“yes, i could use the social interaction, i think.”

“it may be good to get out a bit. i think it’d be good for bruce as well. he’s never liked going to things of this nature, but you being there helps him quite a bit.”

“he’s just concerned i won’t be okay. i know i might get overwhelmed, but i don’t think he understands how much i worry about him too.”

“i worry as well.”

you pause for a moment and think more about bruce, about his life at night and how concerned you constantly are now for him.

“how do you do it, alfred? how do you go every night knowing he’s out there in danger? it’s only been a few weeks since i’ve known and i don’t think i’ve slept a full night.”

you know it’s also because the night terrors that you haven’t been able to rest, but the added stressor of bruce being the batman has definitely taken its toll on your sleep schedule.

“i just have to trust that he’s capable of staying as safe as he can. and, to be truthful, i haven’t had a full night’s sleep in years.”

“yeah… i know he’s capable. i’ve seen how well he can take care of himself. but…”

“i know, dear. however, i am glad he has someone else to be concerned about it.”

you smile a bit at that.

“i don’t want to air out his dirty laundry, but i have seen how he had been with others. and… he never looked at them the way he looks at you.” you lock eyes with alfred and he gives you a smile. “he has someone to fight for now.”

you look down at the table, and you can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest.

“he loves you. probably more than he’s loved anybody. and i think this feeling is new for him.”

“it’s new for me too. i’ve never felt more safe, more at peace with someone before. as stressful as this life is.”

alfred chuckles.

“yes, it’s quite a lot to take in, i’m sure. i know it was for me.”

“what was it like when he first told you he was going to do this?”

“it took quite a while for me to get comfortable with it, and i’m still not sure i am. as i said, i trust he is capable, but… he’s still my boy. when he lost his parents and even before, he was my boy. of course i worry and i hope he’s not being reckless. but, because of you, he has something to live for. you being in his life definitely brings me more comfort. maybe i’ll one day be able to sleep a full night.”

you feel tears in your eyes and realize that as much as you may mean to bruce, you would be lost without him. and you were.

“when i left, when i moved to california for those few months, i very quickly learned that i need him. i need him to survive.”

alfred looks at you with tears in his eyes as well.

“you need each other.”

you exchange smiles.

“he’s been there for me, despite his own struggles and pain, he’s been there for me. every restless night, every painful memory… every moment he’s been there since what happened. i don’t know how i’d be able to heal without him. but the worst part is i know he blames himself for it.”

“he blamed himself for his parents as well. but he’s a fighter. every day he’s fought, and now he fights for you.”

“he fights for you too, alfred. you’ve always been there, in his corner.”

“i try to be.”

“you are. i hope you know how much you mean to him, and to me as well.”

alfred slowly turns off the faucet and comes to sit at the seat next to you. he holds your hands in his and smiles.

“bruce and i were alone for so long… you are a part of this little family now.”

a tear rolls down your cheek and you hug him.

“thank you, alfred.” you sniffle and he chuckles a bit. “you know, you remind me a lot of my father.”

he laughs lightly again and wipes the tear off your cheek.

“i’m just so glad you found us.”

this little family. as small as it may seem, it has been an astronomical time being a part of it. everything has changed so drastically, so quickly. it’s been the most grueling and most intense experience as you’ve stepped into a reality you didn’t even know existed, let alone bargained for. but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. because while it has been beyond difficult, it’s been the most rewarding and beautiful life you’ve conjured with both of them. with this new little family, you’ve found hope, peace, and love you never thought you’d be able to have. and you know if you left you’d never find it again.

a hole was in your chest that you didn’t know needed filling. a key was placed in a door you didn’t know was keeping everything you needed out. a warmth was brought into your life when all you’d known was the frigid cold of pain. and though pain will continue to come, you now have a fighting chance against it.

you head back upstairs and begin your preparations for the event. you still have a few hours, but you need to ensure you’ll be okay to go. you shower, select an outfit, and then just sit at the window, sipping coffee, and mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come. bruce comes in too from downstairs and showers as well. as you two begin getting dressed, him tying his tie and you buttoning your shirt, you feel yourself getting more and more relaxed for the event. with bruce there, by your side, you know you’ll be okay.

“ready?” bruce asks as he takes your hand.

“ready.”

he walks you downstairs and to the car where alfred is already waiting to drive you. the ride is long and quiet with bruce still holding your hand.

and though the camera flashes and the reporters’ incessant yelling for you and bruce overwhelm you, bruce is there. always there, holding your hand. you make your way across the room with him to the stage where he’ll give his speech, and he steps up to the podium to announce the new program. his way with words is inspiring and confident and the raucous applause isn’t a surprise to you when he completes his speech. before he can come back down to you again, a reporter shoves a microphone in your face.

“can you give us a statement on what happened to you? what was it like being kidnapped by the joker? how did the batman get to you so fast? where did—“

“that’s enough.” bruce steps in between you and the reporter. “we won’t be speaking about that tonight.”

“but if i could just get a quick statement—“

“i said that’s enough.” bruce’s tone is forceful and he looks at the reporter with anger in his eyes.

the man with the microphone reluctantly walks away and bruce turns to you.

“are you okay?” his eyes still show anger and concern.

“yeah i… i just didn’t know what to say to him.”

“you don’t have to say anything to anyone. we’re leaving.”

“we don’t have to go…”

“no, there’ll be more like him who won’t take no for an answer as easily.” he grabs your hand and leads you out of the hall and to the car. you and bruce get in and alfred takes you home. although you were really doing fine, you’re glad to be back in the quiet living room as bruce lights a fire and alfred makes you tea.

“thank you, for being there for me. i wouldn’t have been able to get through that without your support.” you sip the hot tea as bruce sits down next to you.

“i wouldn’t have been able to do it without you either.” he gives you a kiss and you curl up next to him on the sofa. these moments are the ones that bring you peace. comfort. when everything around you is chaotic and capable of breaking you at any time, bruce is there to put the pieces back in place. and you hope to god he always will be. you were more honest with alfred today than you even realized: you truly do need him to survive.

after a while, the fire gets less bright, the tea in your cup has run out, and your eyelids begin to get heavier. bruce notices your tiredness and helps guide you upstairs to bed, where he lies with you for a while until he needs to leave. he gives you one more kiss goodbye before heading downstairs where he’ll put on his cowl and take his bike out for patrol. when he steps out of the room and shuts the door, you let yourself close your eyes and try to find sleep. before you can even realize you’re growing deeper and deeper into slumber, you’re asleep. and, somehow, you stay asleep until morning. it’s the first night in weeks you’ve slept through and you can’t help but feel a small sense of relief that maybe things are falling back into place as they should. that maybe your broken pieces are finally starting to mend again. bruce notices this accomplishment as well.

“did you sleep through the whole night? you didn’t have any nightmares while i was here.”

“yeah, i did. no nightmares.”

bruce holds your face in his hand and kisses you gently. as his lips touch yours, you can’t help but reminisce about how you met. it’s amazing how much things have changed since then. what started as a partnership between colleagues quickly evolved into relationship between two people in love. you didn’t know that when you were making that first pitch in that small conference room that you’d be embarking on a journey that few can say they’ve ventured. this kind of love is rare, and you know that. which is why it’s so important to you that you keep it. you ran away once before, and you’ll be dammed if you try and let go of bruce again. he’s your light, your comfort, your everything. despite his stressful and dangerous life, despite everything that’s happened since being with him, you somehow feel an overwhelming and irrefutable peace when he’s near.

an abyss sat ahead of you, an abyss that beckoned for you to jump into. an abyss that scared you, and still does. and yet, you dove into it head first. and as you continue to fall deeper into it, you know now that it is a rabbit hole, leading into a wonderland of love and family that you never even dreamt of. and you’ll do everything you can to forever stay there.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

tags: @christianbalefanatic

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#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batman #batman x reader #fanfic #alfred pennyworth #my writing #pictures from pinterest #my fic #dc #dc comics #the joker #tw #tw mention of death #tw mentions of blood #tw mention of needles #tw mental health #tw trauma

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montimer · 2 months

Note

Can I get cockwarming headcanons for TNBA and Batman Beyond Joker please?

Ofcc! Sorry its short, im writing this late

Tnba,bb!joker x reader

Warning: smut

Cockwarming hc's

Tnba

He would love to try out your idea

He'll keep on shifting around his seat. He writes some plans on his paper while you are sitting on his cock.

He'll give out quiet gasps and moans

You'll tease him with moving a bit or giving out sounds too.

At a point he won't be able to keep it up and he'll beg for you to let him hump into you, or you moving, whatever you'd prefer.

He'll kiss you while holding you close.

Batman beyond

He'll tease you for it but just a bit, he loves when you are confident to tell him what you want

He'll hug you from behind, biting your neck, whispering into your ears in a low tone.

He teases you until you ask for him to take you.

He will hold your hips to move them himself, and he make you sit his way so he can see your reactions.

He'll kiss you all over ur face

#the joker #joker #joker x reader #the joker x reader #the joker x gn reader #joker x gn reader #animated joker #tnba joker x reader #tnba x reader #tnba joker #batman beyond return of the joker

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randofics · 2 years

Text

Sorry for not posting any fics lately. I just haven't been in the right mood to write anything lately. Especially for the NSFW fics. I haven't had much inspiration lately either. Maybe yall can help inspire me with some scenarios. No specific characters just the scenarios.

#fanfic #smut #batman #batman beyond #transformers fanfiction #transformers x reader #batman x reader #peter parker #transformers prime #ultimate spider man #the avengers

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the-silver-peahen-residence · 18 days

Text

||An Officer’s corruption part Four||

Hi dears, It's time for another part to this short au: Officer and criminals Au with demon mun's muses and mine. X3 So here you go with a new chapter added to this. I hope you like.

||Chapters||

Part one

Part two ((NSFW warning))

Part three

((Your reading part four))

||Drabble summary||

After the sudden taste of the snake's blood, Terry wanted to have more and claim him for his own. Meanwhile, as he plans, Shdwkyz was nervous to be around him thinking he would try again. As he did, he was not prepared for what he might do later that night. What did he do? Read to find out.

||Warning||

~Heavy Nsfw smut is present in this drabble

~marking/biting is present in this

~Possessive behavior will be present

~Breeding a mate is present in this

||Guests in Drabble||

Sai Barrajandro Narong/Shdwkyz a.k.a The Phantom Slasher belongs to my amazing Rp partner @demon-blood-youths

Terry McGinnis belongs to and is from the cartoon series Batman Beyond but also me due to rping as him as a muse. Venom batman belongs to me as well.

((Note: Their will be grammar mistakes and errors in this drabble as others have this warning. But like I state before, this is written for fun. So I hope you like it and my friend too. Enjoy))

"What do you mean you have given me old information!? Your told me the folder you had was current!"

"I'm sorry Shdwkyz, I thought I gave the right folder to you that night. But look at the bright side, at least it's not someone boring. And, I figure he would be in good hands knowing your good at hunting down criminals."

Shdwkyz's eye twitch hearing his officer police chief Ink tell him in a nervous tone over the phone.

"You thought!? Damn it Ink, why can't you at least ask Navarro or Hellmare to help you with this type of stuff?" he said.

"Ummmmm...because I tend to forget?" she laughed nervous only for a vein to pop on his forehead. He was trying his best not to be angry but she was his commander office in chief so....

"Ughhh...just...nevermind. I should be fine dealing with him. Next time, just ask Navarro for help with documents." he said.

"Okay! XD" she said before hanging up. Shdwkyz said nothing but he face slams on the desk groaning.

~~~~~~~

That phone call was hours ago but Shdwkyz didn't leave the office. He knew he got the current file on his prisoner but reading it, it was true. Terry was a turned or spliced with a demon bat DNA. That explains the bat canine fangs he had. However, they looked pretty sharp that got Shdwkyz thinking.

'Of course Ink would forget to ask for that and now I figure this out. Why me?' he thought shaking his head with one hand covering his face. No no calm down, he should be fine. He just needs to work on this and stay calm for now. It shouldn't be too bad. As long as he stays away and only checks on him he should be fine.

Right?

Though, seeing Terry having canine teeth like that was....something. He wasn't expecting to even hit him due to the sudden grab and touch. Maybe he really was different than when he was human and he didn't mind that. It made the snake remain still for a second.

'Just calm down Shdwkyz, you got this. He's just trying to play games with you is all. I'll be fine as long as I don't let him provoke me.' he told himself but focusing on the camera in case. So far, it was quiet after that afternoon but he was checking on the document now.

He read up a bit more seeing he was indeed some what part bat given the canine fangs and such. Great. Just great. He sighed to close his eyes only to look seeing that it was getting late. Maybe he should check on him again to see if he is sleeping. But he will have to keep a distance from him.

"You can do this Shdwkyz..just check on him and move on.." he said getting up and heading to the door. He stood in front of it but already reaches to take the door knob and turn it. The door opens showing the cell once more. He looks to see it was pretty dark in this room. Didn't they fix the lights in here?

He ignored it and goes to check. "Hey, are you still awake or did you finally go to sleep?" he waits for a response to hear nothing. Maybe he was sleeping. He only looks to see that but noticed some slight movement in the cell.

"Huh?" he sees Terry laying on the side now like he was resting up. Curled up as he rests up. "....Maybe I am over thinking this. I'm not to be afraid or nervous over such a thing. It's silly. I'm known for who I am so this shouldn't bother me." he said even if he was quiet from before. The thought only made him unsure about it. Even now, he was still sorta nervous being in the same room with this criminal.

".....Though, seeing that he's resting. It should be fine. I should be fine...." he said. He wonders if he should go closer to see-no no no! He said he would stay away from the cell after what happened. However, he just grew curious. Maybe a peek will be fine?

Shdwkyz slowly walks forward to look at the prisoner who still remains still. He sees him not moving and yet, he was looking quiet for now. "........"

Yeah, he's over worried over nothing. It's fine. Sighing, he looks away from the other.

"Yeah, I'm just freaking out over nothing right now....." he said now heading back to his office. As he was getting to the door, the lights suddenly went out!

"!?" he tenses looking around in the dark but he reaches to find his flash light and turn it on. "Damn it, the power went out? Ughhhh I don't need this right now.." he said going to check and see what might have caused it. However, Terry opens his eyes to see that but a small smirk was seen.

In the other room, Shdwkyz saw the power in some parts of the prison was out. Maybe some weak wiring was the blame? He'll have to speak to someone in fixing that. "Stupid thing. It's always the old generators they never fix now a days. You just had to go out, you rusty bucket of bolts?" he growls hitting the generator but sees it did nothing. Shaking his head, that means the power is out for this night.

"Maybe their some candles somewhere.." he said heading back in the office to look. He flashes the light around to check the cabinet and see some candles to light them. Right away, he got some light but sighed.

"Okay..that works." he said. "I better see if he is fine though..I don't need to be blamed for him doing something." he said going to check on Terry. The door opens to look inside.

"Hey, if your still sleeping that's great. I don't need you waking up on me.." he said flashing his light up. "Or worse, you better be-" as he shines the light, his eyes slowly widen.

The cell door was open and the prisoner was gone.

'What the fuck!? Where did he go?!' Shdwkyz rushes to the cell and look inside seeing it was empty. Even the baby bat was gone. How was that possible?! He was sleeping right? So how did he get out!? He looks around using his flashlight but saw nothing nor a struggle of him getting out. "Tch..." he had to find him before he had the chance to escape.

"Damn him..I have to find him before he gets out." Shdwkyz said hurrying to the front door but when he did, he saw it was locked. "Huh?" He tries turning the handle seeing it was locked! How!? How the hell did the door get locked.

"...Oooooh officer....looking for something?"

A voice said behind him right by his ear that Shdwkyz tries to quickly turns to try flashing a light . However, a hand covers his mouth and a hand grabs his wrists.

"Mfffmmmm!!!!!"

The light only flickers slightly from overhead that Shdwkyz slowly opens his eyes to be held in some tight hold by someone.

"Well, well, well, and here I thought you were good at hiding in the dark..seems your not." A familiar voice for the snake's eyes to widen. It was the prisoner! How did he-

"Hello there.." he said but Shdwkyz started struggling for him to get pressed up against the door again. "Now now, don't struggle. I won't hurt you........but It's nice you came to check on him." he said against his ear seeing it flush pink now. He struggles again for Terry to growl against his neck making him stop.

"Don't struggle..you'll make this worse but...lets not fight hmm?" he said slowly lowering his hand from Shdwkyz's mouth to let him speak.

"Let me...the fuck g..go.." he growls back but Terry chuckled to smile.

"Not a chance....I don't think I will given the fact you're pretty tasty. I wonder if you would be kind to let me have a little more hmm?" he asked as Sai looks shocked.

"What are you talking about my blood? Have you gone crazy?!?" he said only for Terry to sigh, tightening his hold but not to hurt him.

"I'm not crazy..but..given the fact that I got a taste..I want more of it. Besides, you wouldn't mind sharing would you?" he said against his neck but Shdwkyz grits his teeth ready to punch him.

"Damn you. Let me go!" he begins trying to get Terry to let him go even leaning his head back to bash it against Terry's face. He heard a grunt from the other as Shdwkyz held his head wincing in pain. However, he tries to get out only for him to get grabbed again.

"HEY!! I SAID LET ME GO-" As soon as he says this, Terry pulls him close and lowers down biting down on his shoulder deeply. Shdwkyz winces with wide eyes from the sting feeling him drinking some of his blood. What the hell was he doing?! He grips his prison uniform trying to get away but Terry presses up against the door while drinking from him.

"What the fuck are you doing!? Let g..go of me!" he shouted with eyes shut tight from the bite. He feels the fangs sinking deeper into his skin drawing more blood but something was being given to him before Terry moves him from the door and lets go. He panted heavily showing the snake's blood on his lips as Shdwkyz falls on his knees covering where he bit him.

"D..damn it....w..what did you do that for!?" he said glaring at the other as Terry licked his canine teeth to look.

"Nothing..but you'll find out soon." he said confusing the snake till Shdwkyz got nervous. What did he mean by that. As he tries to stand, suddenly he couldn't move. His body felt hot and he was shaking looking down as he covers where he got bit.

'M..My body...what the hell?? I can't move....and I feel..hot all over...' he thought slowly panting but he growls to claw the ground. Terry noticed but chuckled to smile.

"Seems it's kicking in.."

"Haaaa...w..what the f..fuck...mmm..did you d..do to me?" he said for Terry to get on one knee to hold his chin by his hand.

"Easy, I injected some of my own venom into your blood but it won't kill you...maybe heat you up to make you want something else..I assure you, it will be fine.." he said.

"I..Injected? What did you-"

"Shhhhh..it's nothing deadly....it's just something to make you ready to be mine.." he said as Shdwkyz tries to back away from him but he grabs his arm to pull him close while holding him.

"L..Let go....let go of me, damn you!"

"I don't think I will..right now. I am going to claim what is rightfully mine..and you'll be mine forever you snake." he whispered as his black eyes changed to green glowing to make Shdwkyz tense up.

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

Terry was able to lock the cell door so Shdwkyz couldn't run. Even if he could, he had the keys. Right now, he was twitching feeling him feeling him sucking him off, seeing the other shaking on the cell room bed. He was trying to get away from this guy while hissing from the heated licks of his tongue. His mouth was way too hot as well but he didn't stop he just went harder.

"Haaaa...haaaa....E...Enough already...enough with the damn tongue..get o..off of me!" he growls leaning his head back but Terry chuckled still keeping him spread open seeing he was wet thanks to the bite. His lips were against his cock looking up at him.

"But your all wet now. You must like this if your shaking from what I'm doing." he teased even holding his hips down to keep licking him.

"But that's not the-Nugghh!" he twitched trying to get free from his ropes but Terry only keeps him still even fingering him deeply as the snake hisses. His mouth was wrapped around his cock again, making the snake throw his head back growling.

"Stop it already! I said st..stop!!" he groans out, even if it felt weird and already tightening around him, it was hot. How in the world could this be happening right now!?

Shdwkyz moans leaning his head back, panting heavily as one of his eyes were glowing from the bangs from his dark brown hair covering the other. Why did it feel good all of a sudden? Was it due to the bite? It had to be. Now, he was shaking biting his bottom lip trying to ignore the feeling. Even if this man was pleasuring him, he was shaking feeling his hips buck.

'N..No, this isn't happening right now..I can't be l..losing like this. It's..it's insane. I have to get him off before he does something else weird.' Shdwkyz thought trying to thrash again in his hold. Even if he felt that, Terry's grip was strong only forcing his legs apart and pushing his head down more making the snake moan out even worse.

"Well you g..get off of m..meeeeeeee!! Naugghhhh aahhhhh..st..stop licking under t..the......hhhaaa..." Terry keeps on going but he didn't stop already growing excited himself. This snake was stubborn but it was worth it.

He only went harder trying to make him feel good that he was already feeling close to cumming. 'Oh no, your throbbing down here...and dripping more. Your close to cumming again..so go ahead and let it all out. I'll catch it.' Terry thought hearing Sai's moans throwing his head back. He curls his toes trying to thrash more.

'Damn it, i can't take this any more! I'll...I'll cum if he don't stop..he has to get off before I..'

"Grrr...c....cumming..g..get off. Get off!" he said but Terry went faster bobbing his head that made Sai scream again. With a buck of his hips he feels his fingers thrusting into him on the spot. Feeling this, he moans cumming accidentally into his mouth. Terry feels the load but he only keeps his head down feeling the twitching from the snake warden.

In a moment, he pulls his head up only to chuckle as Sai panted heavily falling back on the bed shaking. "Not bad snake. You sure came a lot. Was it that good?" he teased even is Shdwkyz glares at him.

"It....didn't. Get the hell off of me or I'll fucking cut your head off." he hissed but Terry looks to smile.

"Such a violent little thing. You could if you wish but I rather have more fun.." he said as he sees him trying to get away, he was grabbed by Terry again and pulled close. He gasped feeling his fingers rubbing against his hole feeling it open and close.

"Besides, you seem hungry for more anyway....so I'll give you that." he said but Shdwkyz was shaking looking away from him even if Terry smiled.

"I'm not hungry for this you....you bat. I'm n..not a....Nuggh!" he feels his fingers pushing in and out slowly as Sai shook with his lips parted moaning out.

"You say your not but your moaning just to my fingers.....you really must love it now. Even now, your aching for it. I can help you feel better if you like.....I can give you what you hungry for." he teased against his ear feeling Shdwkyz shaking and feeling his body aching. Even so, he felt so wet down there but his body ached even worse.

"Haaaa.....haaaaaaa.......st..stop...p..please..."

"But I don't want to..don't you wanna feel good at least? Don't you want some relief?" Terry said but he only begins grinding against him that Shdwkyz panted gripping the sheets. Terry heard the sweet moans from him but he only got more and more excited that he only held him down.

"!?"

"So..how about I make you feel better hmm?" he teased now grinding against him but Shdwkyz shook drooling as his body was betraying him. He only grips the sheets to look down before he heard some shuffling and hands on his hips.

"H..Huh?" He looks seeing him pick him up to sit on his lap but he sees his cock throbbing ready to go inside. "H..Hey hey hey w..wait don't! NO!" he shouted trying to move but Terry lifts his hips and slams him down on his cock.

Shdwkyz screams throwing his head back as he came again feeling full. He shook from this only for Terry to laugh holding his legs up side by side in a V shape.

"Damn you really are a tight snake and you took me in so well too." he laughed but Shdwkyz shook drooling but he feels him being so full. He tries to move but Terry wouldn't let him go. "Then..shall we have more fun?" he said.

"D...don't mo..move....damn it..I....it's b..big...." he panted softly before he feels Terry thrusts up into him as he cries out looking up in a daze. He was being forced to bounce on his lap while taking the bat's cock. It felt hotter even when he moves.

"Haaaa...hhaaaaa.....nugghhhh....mmmmmmm..."

"That's it. Feels good right? Your tightening around me again." he teased thrusting into him that Shdwkyz moans clawing the sheets while bouncing.

"I..I don't feel good! I don't like this you pervert!" he shouted panting but Terry only goes faster making Shdwkyz moan out loudly.

"It's not my fault I find you interesting, my snake. Besides, if you didn't like it you would have cut my head off wouldn't you? I could let you but why? Your body seems to be more honest with me than you. So why not submit to me already??" he said.

"I won't surrender! I won't!" he moans out that Terry laughed still moving his hips to go faster now.

"Then keep taking it till you do!" he said hearing more squeaks, moans, and cries of pleasure from him but it only got worse and worse feeling him tightening around him while being touched. His hands remain on his legs to keep them apart while thrusting harder into him.

~~~~~~~~~

Shdwkyz lost count to the many times he came but he was shaking trying to get away from Terry but he wouldn't stop! Even if he bit him as a warning, that only turned him on more. He was now held down on his front taking in more brutal thrusts, his eyes dazed and biting into the pillow.

"Haaaa....seems like your taking me even deeper. You must love this now." Terry teased now gripping his wrists to bite against his neck from the last time.

"MMMMMMM!!!!!"

"Though, you look so arousing like this." he laughed pounding into him as Shdwkyz was screaming behind the sheets in his mouth.

'Ahhhhh I can't t..take anymore! Why won't he just c..cum already?! I came more than he did but h..he is a beast in bed!' he moans in his thoughts before he yelps from the thrusts getting faster and faster.

'No not again! Damn not a..again!!!' he screams in his thoughts feeling his own hips bucking back into his. It did feel really good but he was only trying to fight it off only to sink deeper into it. Terry noticed only to pant heavily to lay on top of him still thrusting deeper.

"Heh..that's it..just let yourself go..it's too good for you to fight back anyway. So just accept it." he whispered into his neck as Shdwkyz was looking up with his yellow serpentine eyes glowing in the dark as he was drooling feeling too close.

"MFffmmmm!!!!!!!" He tries to fight it back but Shdwkyz only lets the sheets go moaning out worse in the cell while having his own neck teased.

"Ahhhh I...I c..can't t.. take it a..anymore!! P..Please!! Please!!" he begs but Terry smiled holding his head back seeing his body shaking.

"Please what?"

".......M...More..g..give me more..." he said that Terry smiled to give him what he asked. He heard more sweet moans slipping past his lips while moaning out. "ahhhh Yes! R..right there please! Right there!!" he begs but Terry keeps going wanting to feel more and more.

He quickens his hips still going while Shdwkyz kept screaming in the cell but Terry sits up holding him down by the wrists. "Fine then..I'll give you another load to have..." he said as Sai shook under him.

"Y..Yes fill me up. Fill me up more with more cum! Please let me have more! I'm gonna c..cum!!!" he cries before Terry snaps his hips down cumming inside as Sai came as well. She shook twitching under the bat drooling but he feels some squirt out while twitching.

When he was done, he lowers to turn Shdwkyz's head kissing his lips. He only returns the kiss back while shaking under him. Even if he felt full, he had his eyes covered by Terry while he was making out with him. When he breaks the kiss, he smiled seeing Shdwkyz panting.

"Don't worry..were not done yet......lets keep going." he said before changing positions. In the cell, Terry had Shdwkyz trapped against the wall as he was moaning out with some cum running down the wall. Yeah, seems he was losing it too.

Now, it seems the bat has claimed the snake.

~~~~~Meanwhile in a office building~~~~~~

A male was standing up looking out from the window tonight. His red eyes only remaining cold before hearing a phone call. Looking to the phone, he reaches to pick it up.

"Hello......."

"Hello sir, I hope I'm not bothering you tonight. I got some news to give regarding your baby brother.." the other said on the line.

".....I see. Are you able to find a lawyer for him and his friends to get out?" he said.

"Yes. They will be there in a few days or a week to speak with Warden Kinie. However, giving the situation she's pretty strict sir. How are you going to-"

"Don't worry about it. I can 'speak' with the warden so she won't be a problem. Just be sure you do your part in getting that lawyer there sooner." he said.

"I understand but how? You know she has a strict prison and their are other police headstations in New York so-"

"Believe me I know. I do have some hidden help in the prisons so you don't worry....but what of the other? I heard he was also in her prison."

"Y..Yes, he's there but it seems his team was separated because they would have gotten out. Each member is in a different prison in New York."

"I see....well, I'm curious to see how this works in our favor. Be sure you keep me updated." he said.

"Y..Yes..Mister Ryomen." the other said before a click was heard. Standing up, Sukuna looks but he smiled already thinking about the warden. Kinie was it? He always took a liking to her so this should be fun.

~~~~~~~~~~

In a cell in Warden Kinie's prison, one male was sitting in his cell looking at the window. His blind eyes were looking ahead but he was only thinking to how this would go. His dreadlocks were up in a ponytail but he sighed to relax then look to his bloody knuckles after beating up a idiot earlier that night.

"............." Rex Oxford mills was annoyed but he looks ahead like his eyes were glowing in the dark of his cell.

'Just wait my fallen maidens...we will get out of here......just wait.'

#IC #silver roses #Drabble/short or long stories #silver butterfly mun #peahen mom #the mansion owner #A Officer's corruption part 4 #terry mcginnis #older terry #sai barrajandro narong #older sai #The fractions of NYC #demon-blood-youths #peahen writer #officer demons au

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