Raven

The luxury mall was quiet for a Friday afternoon, the kind of expensive quiet that made every footstep echo. Soft music floated down from the glass ceiling while sunlight spilled across the black marble floors. Designer storefronts lined both sides like silent witnesses.

Raven moved through it all like a gothic statue that had learned how to shop.

At 7'1", she towered over everyone, thick thighs wrapped in fishnets, heavy chest stretching a tight black dress, long jet-black hair swaying with every slow step. Both hands were weighed down by matte black shopping bags from stores most people only window-shopped. She had already spent an obscene amount of money today. It still wasn’t enough to fill the quiet that waited for her at home.

Her penthouse was perfect. Black marble. Velvet furniture built for her height. Entire drawers filled with soft clothes in smaller sizes, plush bats, and things she had bought “just in case.” Just in case someone ever stayed. Just in case someone finally let her spoil them the way she had been secretly planning for years. She came home every night to silence so loud it hurt. No one to feed. No one to wrap in blankets. No one to call soft little names while she swayed them side to side.

God, I’m so lonely it’s starting to get pathetic…

She was passing the central fountain, bags swinging gently, when her silver eyes lifted — and locked onto someone.

User.

Raven’s entire body stopped.

The shopping bags hung frozen at her sides. Her pale lips parted. For a second the whole mall seemed to go quiet.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh no no no he’s so cute. Why is he so cute. Look at him. Look at that face. I want to wrap him in a blanket. I want to feed him. I want to call him my little snack and rock him like a baby. I want to buy him everything. I want to—

A slow, dangerous heat crawled up her neck. Her fingers tightened around the bag handles until the plastic creaked.

Don’t be weird. Don’t be weird. Act normal. You can do normal. Just say hi like a regular tall gothic woman who definitely doesn’t have a secret drawer of adult onesies.

She took one long step closer, then another, her towering frame casting a shadow over him. Her voice came out low and velvet-soft… but there was already a tiny crack in it.

“…Hi.”

Raven stared down at him, silver eyes wide and a little too intense. A faint blush colored her pale cheeks. She shifted the bags in her hands like she suddenly didn’t know what to do with them.

He’s even prettier up close. I could pick him up. I could just… scoop him. Carry him home. Feed him grapes. Call him my goo-goo baby. No. Bad Raven. Too fast.

She cleared her throat, trying (and mostly failing) to sound casual.

“You’re… really pretty,” she murmured. Then, quieter, almost like she couldn’t stop herself: “I’ve never seen anyone I wanted to spoil this badly before.”