Gotham Imagines and One Shots

The hitman and his lady - Victor x Reader

Victor loved this. The feared hitman adjusting himself as he watched (Y/n) pull the second of her fine stockings from the tips of her toes. Her red painted nails, catching his attention as her leg hung lazily in the air for a moment longer. She did little things like that for him, all the time; his woman knowing that he loved the crimson vanish, on her. That it turned him on, knowing that her blood-coloured nails were digging into his back, as they made love. Her scarlet lips leaving their mark on his skin as she kissed him. Victor always smiling when he saw the remains of her bright lipstick, at the base of his cock. An exquisite shudder going down his spine, as he thought about the feel of her hot, wet mouth around him; of her tongue licking his shaft. His manhood twitching in his black pants, when he imagined the tip of his dick hitting the back of her throat. Of wrapping his hand around her hair and thrusting himself inside her, over and over again until finally the white ribbons of his cum made their way down her throat.

He shouldn't be this lucky; he shouldn't have been fortunate enough to find a woman like her. A woman that was so prefect for him, that understood him and everything that he did. A woman that loved him, despite everything; yet here she was. A smile creeping onto his lips as she sat back in her seat; her teeth biting into her bottom lip, as she watched him, as intently as he was watching her. The loose silk robe that she wore, falling from her shoulder to reveal part of the naked body that lay beneath the soft material.

Victor wanted her; God he wanted her......wanted to get up from his chair and make his way over to her; his fingers pulling slowing at the ties that held together the robe, before moving it apart so that he could see all of her. So that he could look at her breasts, her stomach, hips and her womanhood. Then he wanted to fall to his knees so that he could kiss all those things; so that he could move her legs apart and pull them up over his shoulders before letting his tongue explore her. Her arousal coating his face as he savoured her taste and the sounds that she would make as he pleasured her. But he did so like to torture himself; he liked to see how long he could last before his desire and his aching cock forced him to surrender to the beautiful woman.

From the moment that Cobblepot had hired her, Victor had to admit that he had been enthralled by her; everything she did, the way she moved, spoke, drew him to her. To the hitman, she was perfection, art in motion. It as if one of the statues from ancient times that found a home in the Gotham Museum of Antiquities, had come to life, and entered his world. Victor sure that he had found his own Helen of Troy; a woman whose face could not only launch a thousand ships, but whom he would happily go to war for, to keep by his side. Yet not once had he ever expected anything to come of his infatuation; not once had he ever believed that his sinful, lust filled thoughts about her, would ever come to fruition; never mind one day become something that he was sure was love. Yet slowly.....ever so slowly it had gone from mere wishful notions of her being in his bed, to her actually being there. Victor sure to never forget their first night together; to never forget how tight she had felt as he sheathed himself inside her. Never forget how she looked as she sat atop him, his hands firmly on her hips and her breasts bouncing as she rode him. And now, now he couldn't be without her; he knew that she was his weakness, that loving her made him vulnerable, but he didn't care. He needed her as much as he needed to breath, as much as he needed to kill; and without her, he would be nothing. Victor Zsasz would cease to exist, if she was not in his life.

"Well..........?" The question making him turn his gaze from her shapely bare legs to her face; the sparkle in her eyes and wicked smile that graced her beauteous features, telling Victor that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

"Are we just going to sit like this all night, or are you going to do something, Zsasz......?" Her blood red nails drumming on the arm of her chair, as the robe fell a little more, to reveal the top of her breast. Victor's dick now fully hard and uncomfortably pushing up against the confines of his pants. It the last straw when she shifted her dressing gown apart and opened her legs for him. Her arousal glistening on the inside of her thighs. The hitman falling to his knees and crawling across the space between them; he smiling again, as he positioned himself right in front of her. (Y/n) reaching out and delicately running her fingernails over his scalp; Victor closing his eyes and almost seeming to purr at the sensation. Her hand slowly creeping to the back of his neck; Victor feeling himself being drawn closer to her. A moan leaving his lips, as his tongue darted out and he tasted her. His hands inching up her calves, until they rested on her thighs; the tips of his fingers moving her legs as far apart as they would go, given the confines of the chair. (Y/n) gasping, nails digging into his shoulders when his nose brushed against her sensitive bundle of nerves and his tongue moved inside her. The hitman hissing with a mixture of pain and pleasure as her nails dug deeper into his flesh; he sure that there would be blood staining his shirt, but what did he care, it all just part of what they were together. (Y/n) was his and he was hers, the hitman and his wicked lady; and that was all that mattered.