odiesdayoff

[odiesdayoff]

The Winner Is...

pair: Robert Fischer x fem!reader

summary: Robert Fischer's stuck judging this year's Miss America Pageant. That doesn't mean he can't use his position to his advantage.

warnings: extremely dubious consent!! (heed the warnings!); mean/condescending Robert Fischer; anal; blowjobs; deepthroating; unprotected sex; a bit of misogyny; power imbalance

made reader from Georgia because I've been watching a lot of Kim of Queens. I've never written a lot of this before so I hope you can enjoy <3 this is also on Ao3 so yea... feedback always appreciated!

but also your consumption is your fault so if you don't like the content well then you should not have skipped/ignored the warnings

ALSO happy valentine's day from me :)

“In your opinion, what is a way that young women can lead successful lives in traditionally male-dominated professions?” Miss America from 2003 spoke clearly into the microphone. She wore her winning sash across her chest and a sparkling dress. 

On her left, a former professional basketball player crossed her arms and sat back. She won the finals for her team two years in a row and now she was stuck judging brainless, but beautiful women being asked sexist questions in the veil of feminism and the uplifting of women. It didn’t matter, though. She was getting paid.

On the right of Miss America 2003, Robert Fischer leaned on the judge’s table with his hands folded. Ever since he fumbled the business deal with Eclipse Solutions, Maurice thought that the best form of punishment was to take his spot as a judge in this competition. Initially, Robert thought that it wasn’t much of a punishment, but after a long week of nonstop noise and hearing these women yap about how they were going to change the world, he understood why his father made him. 

The hard-on he was sporting towards the beginning of the competition was long gone. He couldn’t bear to look at any of them anymore. Even during the swimsuit portion, for God’s sake.

Your smile never fell. The swimsuit you chose emphasized your breasts and slimmed your waist. Saying that you chose it was an exaggeration, your coach said that if you could catch the eyes of Fischer and Johnson, who your coach was convinced was a lesbian, you would have it in the bag. You still weren’t too sure about it. Knowing that your body was getting exposed to millions of people over the television was enough to raise your anxiety.

Attempting to not look like a total fool, you took a deep breath and nodded in response to her question. “Well, as someone who is in the career path of accounting, I have faced a lot of adversarial coworkers and peers. I believe that the best way that young women can gain success is to keep their self-confidence and never stop allowing themselves to learn and grow both professionally and personally. The best way to prove your doubters wrong is to excel in the path that you choose.” You weren’t exactly sure what you were saying, but you had hoped that it came across as something really intelligent to the judges. This was a question you had practiced for so long with your coach, but your mind drew a blank. 

Robert held back a laugh or at least a scoff. There’s no way he would hire you. With a face like that and the way you spoke, there’s no way that you knew how to do anything within the range of taxes or money. Probably a case of affirmative action, he was sure. Either that or you sucked the right man’s dick to get to where you were now. 

Miss America 2003 grinned. “Thank you, Miss Georgia. What a lovely way of thinking. I wish you the best of luck! Mr. Fischer, do you have a question?”

Robert’s bright blue eyes pierced into yours, despite the fair amount of distance from each other. He leaned into his mic. “Do you believe that you get respected more or less because of your appearance?”

The question felt like a double-edged sword. The last thing the general public wanted to hear was that you thought you were beautiful. It weirded people out to acknowledge your beauty, according to your coach.

“While I do think that appearance does affect the way that strangers treat others, it’s in your personality and how you treat others that matters. For me, it doesn’t matter what someone looks like for me to respect them. People that base how they treat others based on looks aren’t worth your time.” You had only hoped that the foundation you had on was holding back the sweat threatening to fall down your forehead. Robert Fischer had been asking the most condescending and borderline rude questions to everyone. It was bound to happen to you, too.

“Mm. Thank you.” He didn’t look amused.

Music began to play and the audience cheered. You smiled again at the judges' table before leaving the stage in the T walk. Once you were off stage and out of sight of both the judges and the audience, you let out a sigh and released the way that you were sucking in your stomach. You had been doing pageants like this ever since you were a little girl and now, your dream of being in this competition was real. Why did it feel so humiliating?

There was only one final day. It was the evening gown portion and the announcement of Miss America for the year. After that, you could finally relax. That is, unless you won and would immediately have to start your training for Miss Universe. Maybe you didn’t want to relax, after all. 

By the time the sun fell, most of the contestants were either spending their last night together in their hotel rooms and doing spa nights while the rest decided to go out to the clubs. You were advised not to befriend any of them by your coach to avoid feeling guilty when you eventually won and they lost. Now, you were alone at a nearby bar nursing a beer and listening to the band playing. It was a cover band of The Killers. Mr. Brightside was the current song getting butchered by the young singer.

It was freeing to be out of dresses and swimsuits and finally not showing off your body. You wore loose jeans and a top with a jacket over it. If they didn’t know you, nobody would even know that you were who you were.

You felt someone sit next to you. In a bar of several open seats, of course, they chose the one basically on top of you. They waved the bartender down and ordered a whiskey. The voice was familiar, one that was ringing in your head all day. You faced him to confirm your suspicions. Robert fucking Fischer.

The drink in your hand was what you tried to focus on. “Not very talkative off stage, huh?” It would be rude to ignore him, you knew that. 

You shrugged. “My social battery is drained.” While it was partially the truth, he was the last person you wanted to be speaking to. 

“You know,” he swirled the whiskey in his glass, “it’s between you and Miss California.” He took a generous sip of his drink as he let the information sink in. 

Excitement and guilt mixed in your stomach. “You shouldn’t say that. We shouldn’t even be speaking, Mr. Fischer.” You finished your drink and stood from the barstool. His hand wrapped around your wrist and stopped you from taking a step away.

“You wanna win, don’t you?” You sat back down, mostly involuntarily, and met his eyes with your own again. They were almost hypnotizing. “I can make that happen.”

“What do you mean?” Questions ran through your head. Was he asking for a bribe? Maybe he had some sort of bet running on you winning.

He smirked at the sight of your intrigue. “This whole competition’s about who’s the best woman, right? They’re still forgetting about the most important thing that makes a woman.” He leaned in closer to you, his hot breath against your skin. “How well they can fuck.”

You waited a moment to make sure that he was being serious, hoping that he wasn’t. The lustful look in his eyes didn’t tell you that he was joking at all. “You’re disgusting.”

“Even if I am, I’m the deciding factor on whether you go down in history as a winner or as nobody at all.” He finished his drink and stood up, fixing his tie. “Johnson likes you. Miss 2003 wants California. It’s all up to me.”

If he was lying, rejecting him wouldn’t mean much in the long run. If he wasn’t, you probably would’ve spent the rest of your life regretting taking him to bed. “Someone will see us going to the hotel together.”

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed you one of his room keys. “Room 704. Wait ten minutes and then come up.” Without saying another word, he dropped some cash on the bar for his drink and left.

The room key felt heavy in your hand. Was winning worth anything if it wasn’t honest? He better have a decent-sized dick if you were really going to do this. 

You felt a hand tap your shoulder. “Y/n L/n? Oh my god, I’m such a big fan! I’ve been watching the whole pageant with my daughter, she loves you!” A woman shook your hand, feeling a bit too formal. The guilt grew in your stomach. How could you be a role model for little girls like this? “Can I have a picture?”

Despite your appearance, you nodded. The room key burned a hole in your pocket as you fixed your hair and took a picture with the woman. Hopefully, the dim light of the bar made you look better than you felt. 

It had already been fifteen minutes since Robert had left. You finally paid for your drink and headed for the hotel. With each step, your anxiety grew. The elevator rose to the seventh floor and you stopped in front of 704. Instead of knocking, you pulled the room key out and inserted it into the door. The light flashed green and you pushed it open. 

Robert was sitting at the edge of the bed without his clothes, stroking himself and staring at the door until you finally walked in. “You’re late.” You kept your eyes around his, trying to prevent yourself from looking any lower.

“I got caught up with something.” You took your jacket off and laid it on the office chair. Given his state of undress, you weren’t entirely sure whether or not you should strip now or wait for his instruction. He seemed like the type who was obsessed with control, especially in the bedroom. The last thing you needed was for him to get angry with you over something so trivial and ruin your chances.

He rolled his eyes. “Sounds like you don’t really want this, don’t you? To win?”

Frantically, you shook your head. “I want it.”

He pointed to the floor right in front of him and spread his knees further apart. You didn’t respond, knowing it was most likely for nothing, and knelt in front of him. For the way that he acted, you would assume it was because he was overcompensating. God, you were wrong.

His free hand grabbed hold of your hair and pushed your head closer to his aching cock. He leaned back. “You’re not gonna win just by looking at it.” You held back from commenting on his attitude and kissed the blushing red tip, the same color as his lips. 

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his head, allowing his precum and your saliva to mix. After hearing the slightest moan of pleasure from him, which was an exhale at best, you took a few inches of him into your mouth. His hand in your hair guided you back and forth along his length.

“That’s all you’re gonna take? I think you could do much better than that.” He taunted, not pushing you down and wanting you to do it voluntarily. “Or, I could just call down Miss California. She’d love to deepthroat me.”

You tried to relax your throat and took him deeper. He was big, much bigger than what you were used to, but you could take him. You inched deeper until your nose pressed against his lower stomach and your breathing was constricted. “Atta girl.” He smelled like the generic body soap the hotel offered with a mix of his cologne. If you could focus on breathing through your nose and sucking him off the best you could, this would be over quickly.

Hearing his heavy breathing and attempts to hide his whimpers sent shockwaves down your spine. You felt the warmth growing in between your legs the more you pleasured him. “I’m about to cum. You’ll swallow, right?”

While you couldn’t answer, you made a sound of agreement that vibrated down your throat. You’d need to do some vocal treatment and tea tonight so you still could speak tomorrow. “Fuck.” He gripped your hair tighter as he came, ropes of cum shooting down your throat.

He finally pulled out once he had fully finished. You wiped a trail of cum and spit from your lips and looked up to him. “Not bad. Though, I’ve had much better. I guess I overestimated you. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

“What does that mean?” You cocked a brow. It felt even more humiliating considering your position in front of him and the way that you could still taste the remnants of his semen coating your throat. 

“Oh, come on. You get a high-paying job straight out of college at a Big 4? You’re either a genius, which I doubt considering half of the answers you’ve given so far, or you’ve slept your way into the job. Now, strip for me.” He spoke matter-of-factly. It was like he’d already convinced himself of his theories, even though they were far from the truth. Couldn’t imagine that a woman like you could make her way up the corporate ladder without the help of rich and successful parents. 

There was no use in arguing, you told yourself and took your clothes off until you were standing naked in front of him. “How exactly is the winner chosen? Aren’t there scoresheets? You’re making it sound like it’s entirely based on personal preference.”

He laughed, this time, a genuine one. “Scoresheets are arbitrary. We make those up to align with who we like the best.” He gestured to the bed behind him with his head as he stood. You followed his order and sat on the edge where he had previously been. His tongue flicked around his lips as he got a good look at you, sitting there so obediently for him. “Didn’t even touch you yet and you’re already dripping.” 

You gave him your best version of doe eyes that you could, following the instruction of your coach. She always said that facial expressions were the most important aspect of impressing someone. If you could read the person and make yourself into their ideal partner, they’d be putty in your hands. Robert seems to like to be in charge and superior, but there was an underlying hint of something you couldn’t put your finger on. Maybe it was the desire to be nurtured? 

“Can’t imagine you’ll feel that good. Not as tight as you used to be, hm?” He took hold of your knees and separated them enough for his hips to fit. He was slowly getting harder again and you felt his tip nudge your clit before gathering your arousal on himself. “How do you think we can remedy that?”

He jerked himself off using your slick, then moved the tip to settle against your ass. You immediately stiffened against him and put your hands against his chest. “No. I don’t do that.”

He groaned and took a step away from you. “Little Miss Georgia Peach is too good to take it up the ass? I’m trying to help you win, but I guess you don’t care.” He picked up your discarded clothes and tossed them to you. 

Your eyes followed him as he walked to the hotel phone and began to dial a number. He checked his watch. The person he was dialing answered. “Yeah, hi. Annie? I need you to do something for me. If you could-” You almost leaped towards the phone and pressed the button, ending the call. Annie was Miss California, he didn’t even need to continue the call for you to understand what he was doing.

“I’ll let you!” You were nearly out of breath, your voice hoarse.

He had to hide his smile from his plan working. “No, sweetheart. You have to ask me for it. Specifically.”

“I want you to fuck my ass, Robert.” You gulped. If this wasn’t your dream, you wouldn’t be begging him like this.

“Turn around.” Once you turned, his hands were on your waist and his tip rested against your ass. He slipped two fingers into your pussy, gathering arousal, and then re-lubed his cock. You’d done this before, but it wasn’t something you necessarily enjoyed. The pain outweighed the pleasure. You just needed to breathe through it.

Your hands gripped the sheets below once his head was inside your tight hole. He slowly pushed further inside until he bottomed out. The white, hot pain was rippling through your body. You focused on inhaling and exhaling and continuing to hold tightly to the bedsheets.

He offered you some mercy, moving only after about ten seconds of being inside. After that, he fucked you as he pleased, entirely ignoring how you might’ve been feeling. You were gonna be sore tomorrow. “Fuck, this is how Miss America should feel.”

He pushed your face into the bed so that he could get a better angle and began to fuck into you roughly, rutting into you like he’d die if he didn’t cum within the next few minutes. 

Confusion surrounded you when he pulled out and you felt a sudden emptiness. Not that you were complaining. He flipped you to your back and you could barely process what he was doing before his hot cum was spurting onto your breasts and stomach.

He pushed his hair back and caught his breath, taking a step away from you. “Get dressed and leave. I’ve got some calls to make.”

You couldn’t help but feel butterflies in your stomach at his confirmation of your win. Maybe it was the orgasm that had never reached climax. Either way, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow. 

~~

Pins pricked against your soft skin as they held parts of your evening gown together. Lights glare on you and your competitors on the stage. It took a lot of your might to not show the extreme soreness that you felt between your legs. You knew that if you were to touch your breasts or tighten the dress a bit more, you’d only be pushing further against the bruises Robert had given you.

The man in question sat in his chair with the other two judges, arms crossed as usual. He barely gave you a passing glance, instead, he focused on discussing things with the judges or looking at the other contestants. Maybe it was just a ploy to not make it seem like he already knew who was going to win. Certainly, that was it. 

The announcer walked on the stage from the judge’s panel with an envelope in his hand. That envelope had your name on it, you knew. He was an irrelevant game show host that you remembered watching when you were home sick from school as a child. Whatever paid the bills.

You kept your award-winning smile on while the announcer took his microphone and began to speak about how the competition was the opposite of what most people thought when it came to beauty pageants. Mostly pandering and filibustering so that the program would be able to run another round of advertisements when they played it on cable. 

“Well, I have in my hand the name of Miss America of this year. Without further ado, why don’t I open it and save these women some anxiety?” He laughed at his own joke while the audience cheered. 

Miss California stood next to you on your left and Miss Connecticut on your right. As per tradition, you held hands with them while the announcer opened the envelope of the winner. You almost felt bad for them, knowing that they were going to lose.

The envelope was open. The announcer leaned into the microphone. “And the new Miss America is…Miss California!”

It was as if you were seeing things in black and white. Confetti fell from the ceiling and Miss California dropped your hand to receive her flowers and sash. You knew that crying would make you look bad, like a sore loser, but that’s the only thing that you felt like doing. You forced a smile and clapped for her.

Robert clapped for the winner, though his cold stare was on you. What you’d never forget was the smile plastered on his face. 

He had won.

#inception #robert fischer x reader #cillian murphy x reader #robert fischer #odiesdayoff #cillian murphy

[odiesdayoff]

So Undercover (3)

pair: Dark!Edward Nashton x fem!reader

summary: You get a little too caught up in an undercover job to unravel the Riddler.

warnings: intimidation; threats; murder; gaslighting; stalking; mentions of past noncon/smut

Part 2

“He called me a whore. Said I needed to be taught a lesson.” You wrapped your arms around Edward’s neck and buried your face into his shoulders. He got to the library as fast as he possibly could, in just about twenty minutes from the time you called. “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

He gently stroked your back and let you cry into his shirt. “They made you talk to a serial killer and didn’t think that he would target you?”

You shook your head. “It’s not even a successful thing. I barely know anything about him and he knows everything about me. I think he’s going to kill me.”

With how hard you were crying, Edward’s smirk was unseen by you. He couldn’t help it. You’d fallen right into his little trap. “It’ll be okay.” You pulled away from him and allowed him to wipe the tears from your cheeks. 

~~

It was all too…surreal. To say the least. Going back to the precinct, back to work after everything that happened. You tried to hide the heat that remained on your cheeks, surely leaving at least a small tint of color different from the hue of your skin. How could embarrassment feel so much worse after the fact? All you had to do was go into the commissioner’s office and tell him that the mission was pointless. It was like telling a parent that they were wrong. 

You pushed open the thick oak doors and immediately locked eyes with the man. Pete Savage. You didn’t exactly know what his deal was, but he was never one of the “good” or “not corrupt” cops in the bunch. The doors squeaked unceremoniously shut behind you. It was then that you no longer felt like an adult, but rather a kid who was called to the principal’s office. “I wanted to talk about the Riddler Case, sir. I, well, I don’t think it’s working.” The words articulated themselves much better when you practiced them in the bathroom mirror. 

He gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk and you hesitantly took a seat. You couldn’t control the way your leg began to bounce, even with your hand resting on it. “What’s the problem?” His voice was attempting to sound kind, though the hint of annoyance still seeped through. It was still up in the air whether he was only being kind because he felt bad for you or it was just because you were a woman. 

“I no longer feel safe in my home or at work. I don’t know if you’ve seen the report from the other night, but my apartment was broken into. That, and the… sample I provided.” The embarrassment crept up once again, blood rushing to your cheeks. Admitting that a crime so personal had occurred seemed to be worse than the crime itself.

He gave you a lone nod and sighed. Was…he stopping himself from rolling his eyes? “I’m aware. I couldn’t help but notice that there were no signs of a break-in and as for the sample, are you sure it wasn’t some residue of a night you don’t want to admit to your boss?” The smirk grew as he began to think of the situation. 

“He made a key. That also means he’s been there before.” The idea had only just come to your mind. What if he’s been in your apartment while you were sleeping? You wouldn’t put it past him. You had already asked your landlord to change the locks of your front door. “And at the library. He cornered me and threatened me.”

He folded his hands and leaned forward. “You’re aware that our insurance policy covers psychiatric care, right? We have no evidence to confirm that you’re in danger. I’ll relieve you from this case for your own sake.”

You wanted to scream, cry, protest, and tell him exactly how he was wrong. Instead, you weakly nodded. You should’ve known he wouldn’t take you seriously. “Thank you, sir.” Tears threatened to spill, but you held yourself together.

In the back room again, you sorted files while angrily whispering your complaints about the commissioner. Pete Savage was nothing but a ridiculous misogynist. Corrupt, too. How can you be presented with all this information and still claim that you weren’t in danger? Who knows what might’ve happened had you not been able to use the fire escape? Not like he would care all that much.

Annette leaned against the doorframe, watching you as she usually did when she didn’t want to do her job. “Thompson told me about some secret mission you were doing while I was away. Also, I heard you just got thrown off of it.” You didn’t know what to call her slightly mocking tone. Was it holier-than-thou? I told you so?

“I left.” Anything more than a curt response was more than she deserved.

“Mhm. Well, I wouldn’t do anything like that. Not in the job description.” Like she ever did what was in her job description. That would be far too much to ask of her. How you were getting paid less than her and remain her subordinate only cemented the existence of extreme corruption in this precinct.

You angrily set the files on the floor. Well, more passive-aggressively than angry. “I was just trying to help.”

You had to keep pushing the thought of the videos and photos existing as a form of blackmail to the back of your mind. So what if you lost your job? It’s not that you necessarily enjoyed it. Life would be so much better if you could leave it and this whole godforsaken city behind you. 

~~

The older man at the desk worked relatively slowly to take in your phone and laptop. He only raised a brow when you asked for the same makes and models to trade in. “Most people choose the upgrade plan for an extra hundred.” He would repeat this until you could no longer count them on two hands. 

The sun had set by the time you reached your apartment. Your landlord handed you the new keys to the locks right as you stepped into the building. For the first time in a while, you felt safe. Nobody was watching anymore. You could breathe. 

As soon as your laptop connected to the wifi, you started to look through the online job forums. The sooner you get away from the precinct, the better. With each link you pressed, the screen would flash entirely black, only for a fraction of a second. Must’ve been a buggy site.

You sipped your tea and continued to look through the job openings. It had been quite a while since you had to do this. You were lucky enough to get your job straight out of school. Maybe you’d actually get paid what you deserved this time. 

The screen flashed again, this time a deep shade of green. You lost control of your cursor. It inched towards the top of the screen, your eyes following it while running your finger across the touchpad. It opened a new tab and then started typing. 

<?> DID YOU THINK YOU COULD GET RID OF ME <?>

You nearly choked on your tea. The laptop redirected to the same website you used to chat before. You stood from your chair. How could he possibly get in so fast? After you had been so careful? 

<?> You forgot about the windows.

He was right. You hated that he was right. In the rush of trying to cover all of your bases, you’d forgotten one of the most crucial entrances to your apartment. For all you knew, he was already through and waiting for you to try and close them. 

The front door. You could leave through there, call the GCPD, and he’d have nowhere to go. A one-way ticket to prison, or more realistically, Arkham. And you’d finally have the sense of freedom and relief you’ve been desperately wanting. 

First, the deadbolt. Then, the lock on the doorknob. You expected to see your escape when you frantically swung open the door, but there he stood. A boot collided with the door when you tried to close it on him. One gloved hand wrapped around your neck, the other on your hip.

This wasn’t like the library. That was public and he had to somewhat keep his plan contained. One curious bystander trying to be a hero could ruin everything. You were entirely in private, especially after he pushed himself in and kicked the door shut. 

“You’re so predictable. Naive. How did I know you’d try to outsmart me? I’ll give it to you, you’ve got a lot more going on in that head of yours than any of those cops you work with or politicians you work for. You’re still nothing compared to me.” He pushed you further back into your living room as he spoke. Maybe he was right all along and he knew you more than you knew yourself. He saw right through you. 

You clawed at his hand, scratching the leather in an attempt to loosen his grip. “I’m done. I’m not working with them anymore!”

The hand on your neck moved to gently stroke your hair. It would’ve been comforting if not for the leather catching and pulling the hair by accident. His other hand pulled you closer, against his chest. “I know, I know. That doesn’t matter anymore.” He cooed, voice still distorted by the mask. “Do you still have my gift?” 

There’s no way in hell you would admit that you kept it. The biggest reason wasn’t sentimental, you just had no idea where you could possibly throw it away. It’s been gathering dust in your closet ever since that night.

You couldn’t tell if he was smiling at your hesitancy and subsequent lack of an answer. “Don’t worry, why use it when you have the real thing right here? After all, I deserve a thank you.”

“For what?” You stumbled back farther until you hit your kitchen counter. It was then that you knew you were cooked. He pressed his body against yours, feeling the heat of his jacket seep through your shirt. 

“Your promotion.” His hands roamed around your body. He slightly chucked at the sight of your confused expression. “I take it they haven’t found her body yet.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Body?”

He stroked your hair. “Can’t say I don’t do anything for you. There’s a phone in my back pocket for you to call her doorman to make sure. Maybe she’ll still be kicking.” 

Shaking like a leaf, you reached into his back pocket. The device you felt was a burner, blocky, and lacking a touch screen. The number, saved as DOORMAN , was preset and ready for you to dial. You held the phone to your ear and listened to the dial tone. 

The man answered with little to no emotion. Probably nearing the end of his shift. “Hi. I need you to check on the woman that lives in C11.” You couldn’t tell if the fear in your voice was evident through the microphone. 

��Who’s this? Why are you calling?” He didn’t seem to care. None of the urgency that you desperately needed was there.

You shook your head. “No, no. That’ll waste time! I think she’s going to hurt herself and I need you to go up there right now.” The Riddler’s hands trailed lower on your body, caressing your thighs. 

The doorman shuffled from his seat and you could faintly hear him walking up the stairs to Annette’s apartment unit. He knocked, but the door was opened slightly already. The squeak of the hinges was caught by the phone’s mic. 

He screamed and you didn’t need to know what he was seeing for your heart to fall to your stomach. The first tear broke the seal and you couldn’t stop yourself from crying. Hands pressed against your panties, trying to increase the friction of the fabric against your clit. “Who are you? Why did you do this?” The questions were directed towards you.

“I, I didn’t…” None of the words could form in your mouth. They could barely appear in your brain in the first place. The phone was snatched from your hand and the call ended. He threw the phone on the floor. Your hands were now free to try and keep his at bay. “What do you want from me?”

“At first, I wanted to see how much you GCPD pigs knew about me. I’ll have to admit, you intrigued me.” He caught a grip on your wrists and pushed your hands against the counter. “You don’t even know what you do to me, baby. I just want you.” If it wasn’t him, it would’ve made you swoon. It could have even been sultry. Maybe if Edward had said it.

“No. No, I’m nothing special.” You weren’t sure what your tactic was anymore. All you needed him to do was leave you alone. Preferably forever, but just tonight would work as well.

Through the mask, his eyes narrowed. He shook his head. “Don’t think like that. You can help me fix this city. Fix me .”

#the riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #odiesdayoff

[odiesdayoff]

So Undercover (2)

pair: Dark!Edward Nashton x fem!reader

summary: You get a little too caught up in an undercover job to unravel the Riddler.

warnings: stalking; intimidation; fear; name-calling; riddler is mean; double life of Edward Nashton/Patrick Parker

Part 1

Patrick’s visits to request records had become much more frequent to the point where seeing him was a weekly ordeal. Not that you minded. You had begun to warm up to the shy man, even moving forward to actually having conversations with him. It was something you started to look forward to.

He leaned against your desk as you scanned the record he wanted. “Are you busy Friday night?” You wanted to cringe at yourself. By his surprised look, you couldn’t tell whether or not that was overstepping in your relationship.

“I don’t think so, why?” He adjusted his glasses, his gaze fixated on you.

You sighed. “I have two tickets to the Gotham Philharmonic. I was supposed to go with this dude I was seeing, but that didn’t work out. Wondered if you wanted to go. With me.”

He stopped you before you could ramble on anymore. “I’d love to.”

~

You were fixing your lipstick in the mirror when you heard the chime of a new message. Checking who it was from was unnecessary. You already knew.

<?> Pretty girl.

<?> Got a date tonight?

<me> Not really.

<me> Going somewhere with a friend.

<?> I bet he just wants to get in your pants.

<me> That’s not true.

<me> He’s nice.

<?> Maybe I’ll go, too.

<?> You won’t even know it’s me.

<?> Just to make sure Patrick is behaving.

<me> Stay away from him.

<me> He’s innocent.

<?> Row E.

<?> Seats 17 and 18.

<?> Maybe I’ll take seat 19.

<me> I’ll have the police on you immediately.

<?> We’ll see.

He disconnected. Frustrated, you shut your laptop. The only thing you wanted to do was enjoy a night out with a friend and now the looming anxiety of where the serial killer who is seemingly obsessed with you is sitting in your stomach.

You weren’t going to let him ruin your fun. It was bad enough that you didn’t have a real date to go with. Might as well enjoy yourself.

Patrick was waiting outside the doors when you arrived. He wore a black dress shirt and pants, just a little bit more formal than what you were used to. He looked nice. It matched the little black dress you chose to wear. “You look beautiful.” He blushed as he complimented you.

While you took your seats, one eye kept looking around for any man that came close. Any one of them could be the Riddler. Anxiety spiked in your stomach when you saw someone look at you, but they quickly looked away to join their families. “I should probably tell you something.” His words caught your attention. “Most people use my middle name. Edward.”

“Edward? I like that.” The other guests found their seats and the lights began to dim. The Riddler, as far as you knew, hadn’t come. The seats directly next to you and Edward were still empty. The conductor walked on stage and the orchestra began to play.

This was a good idea. Edward’s arm was on the armrest in between the two of your seats. After several minutes of contemplating, you placed your hand on his. He flipped his hand around and intertwined his fingers with yours. You didn’t look at his reaction, but you were smiling.

At the intermission, Edward had left to use the bathroom. You stayed in your seat, allowing yourself to feel the warmth in your stomach that just holding hands brought. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you nearly dropped it once you saw the message.

<?> The trombone solo was beautiful, wasn’t it?

<?> Not as much as you, though.

<?> Sitting all alone.

<?> Did your boy leave?

<me> Where are you?

The Riddler didn’t respond. You looked up from the screen and scanned the room. Any man on a cell phone rang alarm bells in your mind. He was here. In the same room. He knew exactly what you looked like and you were completely in the dark. You didn’t even notice that your hands were shaking.

<me> Please.

<me> Tell me where you are.

<?> Right next to you.

You jumped out of your seat when someone sat in Edward’s seat. You took a deep breath and faced the figure, who turned out just to be Edward. “Woah, are you okay? It looks like you’re on the verge of tears.” He placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

Riddler was just fucking with you. Of course, he was. You shook your head. “Yeah, yeah. Just a little anxious, I guess.”

He took your hand in his. “I’ve got you. Do you want to leave? There’s a diner close by.”

You bit your lip, then nodded. “Yeah.”

In a corner booth at the nearby diner, you and Edward laughed over a basket of fries and milkshakes. “A book?” You tried not to laugh into your straw.

He nodded. “Yeah. Gotham has such an intricate history and I’m piecing together the most important events and incidents. You’d be surprised what you uncover.”

You shrugged. “I believe you. It’s just interesting to see someone so passionate about this city.” You ate a fry, teasing him. Most people that lived in Gotham hated the city. They either loved to complain or were actively saving up to get out. “I just want to thank you for coming tonight. And being so understanding.”

He waved you off. “It’s no problem. I like spending time with you.”

You played with the straw in your milkshake for a moment. “My apartment isn’t that far from here. If you want to, I don’t know, go there?”

“Oh, Y/n. You don’t know how much I want to say yes, but I think you’re too special to move so fast yet. You deserve more than that.” Even though he was rejecting you as gently as possible, it was still a rejection. You tried not to react. “I don’t want this night to be a one-time thing.”

You pursed your lips. “Right. You know, that’s a good idea. We should go on a real date.”

“This doesn’t count?” He raised a brow.

“Well, I mean, kind of. But I haven’t got the chance to learn more about you. I don’t even know what you do as a job.” He knew much more about you than you did him. That was a bit hard considering that he met you at your job. Sure, he was writing a book, but that was a side hustle. 

He laughed. “I’m an accountant.”

~

Back in your bed, you took your makeup off and tossed the wipe in the trash. Now that it was after the fact, maybe it was a good idea that Edward had rejected you. Pure horniness took over, you presumed. He was someone you wanted to have a special night with and not a one-night stand.

You rested your head on your pillow, still wearing your dress. If you hadn’t already laid down, maybe changing into pajamas might’ve been a more feasible option. Sleep was your biggest priority. That was until your laptop chimed.

<?> Surprised you came home alone.

<me> We’re just friends.

<?> Whores like you don’t make friends with men.

<?> He rejected you, didn’t he?

<?> Knew that you were just a slut.

<me> That’s not true.

<?> Don’t get too defensive.

<?> I should show him who you really are.

<me> Stay the fuck away from him.

<me> He’s a good guy.

<me> You wouldn’t know what that’s like.

<?> I wouldn’t?

<me> No.

<?> That’s funny.

<?> He may be a good guy.

<?> But I’m the one you’re dropping your panties for.

You shut your laptop. He had some nerve. Nonetheless, he wasn’t going to ruin Edward for you. He was your chance to actually have a semblance of a normal relationship. Whatever blackmail situationship you had with the Riddler didn’t count. 

Your laptop chimed with a new message, one that you ignored. Another. A third. The sound that caught your attention was your apartment door unlocking and creaking open. It was something you knew all too well. Someone was in your apartment.

You shot up. This was Gotham, you really should’ve kept some type of weapon in your bedroom. All you had was yourself. The self-defense classes you took a while back needed to come back to your head. You locked your bedroom door.

Best case scenario: you just get robbed.

Worst case scenario: you get killed.

The person walked slowly, with loud footsteps. Do you try calling the GCPD? No, you worked with them. You, of all people, knew how useless they were. Nervous, you opened your laptop again.

<?> I think you’re getting a little too comfortable.

<?> Maybe I need to come over and teach you a real lesson.

<?> Don’t worry, I have a key.

Your heart sank. He was in your home. He was probably armed. Maybe not with a gun, but he was known to use knives or anything that would do the job, really. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d been there before. His footsteps continued straight towards your bedroom.

His fists slammed against your bedroom door. You weren’t sure how long it might hold him back and you had to do something. He couldn’t win. 

You pushed open your window and climbed out onto the fire escape. The harsh mid-April air blew your dress up and littered goosebumps all over your skin. The fire escape didn’t reach all the way to the ground, so you had to jump a couple of feet once you got to the bottom. 

It was a bit humbling. You wore slippers with a fancy dress in the middle of an alleyway. Maybe that wasn’t so strange in Gotham considering people terrorized the city in crazy costumes once a week. It was better than being stuck in a room with him.

You dialed the GCPD.

Officer Thompson escorted you back into your apartment about twenty minutes later. It was trashed. Books were thrown from their shelves and clothes from your drawers scattered along the floor. Whether or not it truly was the Riddler that was here, he was mad. What was most important was that he was gone, for now.

It took about an hour to fix the mess he left. All you wanted to do was sleep. You pulled your sheets back on your bed and gasped. Drying cum pooled in the spot where you normally slept.

Sleeping on the couch, it is.

~~

On Monday, your head was everywhere but your job. After the lab came back with no matches to anyone in their database, your evidence was labeled as useless. Riddler probably knew that. Maybe it wasn’t even his and it was another trick he was playing on you. It wasn’t something you particularly wanted to think about. 

Thankfully, Annette, your boss, was finally back from her vacation, which brought you to your normal job of sorting and filing the records. It left you in the back office, covered in dust and the occasional paper cut. 

“Anything interesting happen while I was away?” She rolled slightly back in her chair, just enough to have a view of you from the open doorway. You did start to miss that nice chair as the back pain from sitting on the floor crept back up your spine. 

You shrugged. “Not really. Actually had someone come in and request a record, though.” No way you would mention that you went on a date with that person. 

She wasn’t your friend, or close enough to share information with. She’d only complain about her ex-husband and the horrors of dating apps within Gotham City. Even though she was in her early thirties, she loved to act like she was so much superior and older than you were. “Sounds like I missed a party, then.” Sarcasm dripped from her words. 

You might as well bite and waste some time listening to her yapping. Silence would only bring your mind back to Him. “How was Disney?”

Annette’s grating voice stopped you in your tracks before you could leave for the day. She had the same pitiful smile that meant she wanted you to do something for her. “The Gotham Public Library called. They said they had some records they wanted to move to the archive.”

“Okay, and?” You didn’t even care if it came off as rude.

She crossed her arms. “I have a doctor’s appointment and you need to pick it up right away. I don’t even have time for you to talk back right now. I’m the archivist, you’re the assistant. Am I getting that wrong?”

You simply nodded. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. “I’ll head over now.”

~~

The Gotham Public Library was probably the most salvageable building in the whole city. People worked hard to make sure it looked nice and was well-stocked with books. It’s really too bad the Gothamites stopped caring about enhancing their knowledge. Well, they probably were distracted by trying to stay alive.

You went straight to the backroom of the library, just as Annette told you to do. Hopefully, the box of records would be there and it would be an easy job. It was almost getting dark out and walking home in a place like Gotham at night was far too dangerous. 

The door creaked open and cobwebs fell from the ceiling. You made sure to position a small book to hold the door open. It locked from the inside and if you didn’t have a key, you were stuck in there until a librarian cared enough to answer their phone. The box labeled “GCPD” sat on the opposite wall of the door. 

You nearly bumped into the stray mop and cleaning supplies that sat in the middle of the room. Of course, important documents were kept in the janitor’s closet. A glance confirmed that water from the last clean sat stagnant in the bucket. 

The box was light as you lifted it, almost as if it were empty. Well, paper couldn’t be that heavy. You backed up to get away from the shelf and your shoe landed on someone else’s. The box fell onto the floor as a gloved hand clasped over your mouth. Your back was pressed against the chest of your assailant. 

“Fool me once, shame on me.” The voice was familiar, one that you could never get out of your head. If it weren’t for the mask over his face, you would’ve felt his breath against your neck. “I’ve got to admit, I didn’t think of the fire escape. I guess I underestimated you.”

He kicked the book that held the door open and it slammed shut. Flipping you around, he pushed you against the wall. You tripped over the box of files and fell into it, your ass firmly stuck in the box. “We’re both locked in here now, dumbass.” Your confidence surprised the both of you. 

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a key, one he made a replica of, you were sure. If he had so many replicas of keys, then he must’ve either gone to a store or had his own way of doing it. “You are. I came prepared.” You wondered if he planned for you to fall by the way he leaned over and looked down at you. “You still have yet to learn your lesson.”

You tried moving, barely busting the structural integrity of the cardboard box somehow. He pressed his boot against your chest, continuously adding pressure. “You’re no better than the dirt I walk on.” He dragged his boot against your chest, a trail of mud and dirt rubbing off on your blouse. Using his heel, he pulled the box closer. “How do you think I should deal with a pretty little thing like you?”

He knelt down to face you at eye level and pulled a switchblade from his jacket. The blade tickled your skin but didn’t go far enough to cut. “Why don’t I start by dressing you like the whore you and I both know you are?” 

The fabric of your shirt was so match for the blade, getting torn to reveal your bra. “I’m not a whore. Just because you think I am doesn’t mean it’s true.” He ignored you, cutting through your pants as well. 

“I won’t waste my time with you. I have much better things to do.” He stepped back, now standing. He almost left the room, but not before the bucket caught his eyes. He picked it up, struggling a bit to carry it over to where you sat, then poured it over you. It was barely water at this point, it was brown. 

You shut your eyes and mouth, only opening them when you heard the door slam. The cardboard of the box was much easier to move while wet and after a minute or two, it began to disintegrate enough for you to stand. The so-called file that you needed to get was somewhat dry. The most notable thing you saw was a large green question mark.

Tears fell from your eyes as you pulled your phone from your pocket. It was lucky enough that he hadn’t stolen it. The library went to voicemail, as per usual. A little desperate, you pressed Edward’s contact and it began to dial. This wasn’t the most ideal circumstance for a second date, but he was the only one you trusted enough to see you like this. He would never treat you like this.

Part 3

#the riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #odiesdayoff #the riddler

[odiesdayoff]

College AU! Edward Nashton x roommate's girlfriend! reader (Hatefucking/Infidelity (on reader's end)/Popular x nerd trope)

Riddler! Edward Nashton x Mitchell!Reader (Handyman x married woman trope/affair/sex tape/sort of blackmail for information but not dark!)

#edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #the batman #the riddler

[odiesdayoff]

please second part of So Undercover 🙏😽💘

haha it's coming

[odiesdayoff]

So Undercover

pair: dark!Edward Nashton x fem!reader

summary: You get a little too caught up in an undercover job to unravel the Riddler.

warnings: NON-CON / DUB-CON SMUT (MINORS LEAVE); no really this is dark if it makes u uncomfy then do not pass go!! voyeurism, mentions of revenge porn, forced creampie, dildos, fucking machines, sexting? coercion, manipulation, name-calling (slut, whore, good girl), stalking, blackmail

i'm so fr if u dont like this then go because your consumption is literally not my business at all actually. but enjoy :)

possible part 2

<me> Hi. 

<?> Hello.

<?> What gets wet while drying?

<me> Oh. Um.

<me> A towel.

<?> Correct.

You sighed from relief. As far as you knew, the man you were dealing with was calling himself The Riddler. Having to actually answer riddles surprisingly wasn’t something you thought you’d have to do.

<me> What is your name?

<?> I think you know that already.

<me> Riddler, yes. But I want to know your actual name.

<?> I’m not stupid.

<?> What is your name?

<me> I’m not stupid, either.

<?> I know.

<?> You’re a good girl.

The pointer on the screen blinked. Your hands were still on your keyboard, but something stopped you from typing anything in response. No part of your conversation or your screen name implied you were a girl. Unless, it was a lucky guess and he was just messing with your head.

<?> Don’t get cold feet now, Y/n. We’re just getting started.

<?> That’s your name, right?

<?> I want to know who I’m looking at talking to.

<me> What?

<?> Answer the question.

<me> That is my name.

<?> Good girl.

You bit the inside of your cheek and slowly closed your laptop. Detective Henry and two officers looked at you for an answer. “He knew my name.”

The detective nodded. “We expected that. You didn’t get kicked off, though, right?”

“No. I don’t know, actually. I got scared.” Sheepishly, you looked down at the closed laptop. In your defense, this wasn’t in your job description at all. You spun your chair around. The first thing that caught your eye was the chair behind you. 

A towel. Draped over the back of the chair.

None of this could’ve been a lucky guess. You knew for certain that he was looking at you through your webcam. “I want you to talk to him at home. That way it’s more believable.”

“Can’t you do it yourself? Or get Estella to do it?” That was the office secretary that rarely did anything other than watch Netflix on her computer and occasionally go on a coffee run.

The detective crossed his arms. “He recognized us as cops. IP banned us. We’ll pay you overtime for this.”

You didn’t open your laptop again and look at the chat log until you were at your apartment and on your bed. With the knowledge that The Riddler could see through your webcam, you made sure not to change out of your work clothes just yet.

<?> I was wondering when you’d come back.

<me> I was curious.

<?> About me?

<me> Yes. 

<?> What about me?

<me> Everything.

<me> All I hear at work is you and the things you’re up to.

<?> At the station?

<me> Yes.

<?> You don’t look like a cop.

<me> I’m not.

<me> I’m an archival assistant.

<?> Interesting.

<me> It’s really not.

<me> What do you do?

<?> I work with numbers.

<me> Can’t imagine you with a 9-5 

<me> haha.

<?> I have to make money somehow.

<me> It’s funny.

<me> You’re just like the rest of us, then.

<?> Yes.

<?> People like you don’t usually follow me.

<me> What do you mean? People like me.

<?> Beautiful young women.

<?> With their whole lives ahead of them.

<me> I doubt that. 

<me> Do you know all of your followers?

<?> Yes.

<?> They are mostly older males.

<?> So…

<?> How can I be sure I can trust you?

You stared at the question on your screen. This was either a test because he knew that you were technically working for the GCPD’s investigation or a genuine concern. You started to type.

<me> You can trust me.

After sending, you realized how dumb the answer truly was. If you were him, it was obvious.

<?> Take off your blouse.

<me> No.

<?> Yes.

<?> Or I cut this communication.

Thoughts raced through your head. He was a creep, of course. You weren’t entirely sure what you should’ve expected of someone like him. This was for the sake of the investigation. It could save lives. Just show the man your boobs.

One-by-one, you unbutton your blouse until it slid down your arms. The webcam was pointed directly at you and your chest.

<?> Keep going.

Your bra fell to your lap after you unclipped it. He wasn’t typing. Your nipples seemed to keep eye contact with the webcam. A chill coming from the poorly fixed holes in your windows gave you goosebumps and made your nipples harder.

<?> Gorgeous.

<me> Do you trust me now?

<?> Yes.

His little available dot next to his name disappeared, leaving you confused, a bit violated, and half-naked in your bedroom. You didn’t know what he looked like or his name, but you just put on a little show for him. He probably was too busy jerking off to type. 

Not moving, you kept the chat open. The dot returned. He started typing. 

<?> Knew you’d be waiting for me.

<?> Greedy little slut.

<me> Excuse me?

<?> Don’t act modest now.

<?> Take off those pants.

<me> I gave you what you wanted.

<me> I’m not doing that.

<?> Yes, you are.

<?> I changed my mind.

You rolled your eyes and made sure it was caught by the camera. The laptop stayed on your bed as you stood up and shimmied out of your work pants. 

<?> Panties, too.

<me> No way.

<?> I want to see that pussy of yours.

<me> Fuck off.

You closed the chat and quickly threw some clothes on. There’s no way you were going to do all of that for some stranger just because it might help with an investigation. No way.

At work the next day, you did your best to throw yourself into the busy work you had to do and forget about last night. He was nothing but a disgusting pervert and you weren’t doing it anymore. You could just tell the detective that he found out what you were doing and blocked you as well. 

Your mouse hovered over the bookmarked website. No. He wasn’t going to take up any more space in your mind than he already has. You slammed the laptop shut. 

A knock on the doorframe caught your attention. A tall man with slightly shaggy hair and glasses stood, still wearing a dark blue windbreaker. He was mousy, his posture nowhere near upright. “Can I help you, sir?”

A small smile appeared. “Yeah, hi. I wanted to ask about the records and how I could possibly access one.”

You pushed your chair back further to get a better look at him. The whole point of this job was to stay cooped up in the shelves of your records, collecting dust just as fast as they were. “Well, did you fill out a request form?”

He looked at you, confused.

“I’ll take that as a no.” You chuckled and stood. Rows of cabinets faced you. “They should be somewhere around here. I mean, they are online, but you’re already here. So…” You searched a few of the cabinets before finding the stack of empty request forms. “Here.” You took one of the forms and handed it to the man.

“Thank you. Do you have a pen?” He made the gesture of writing with his hand like you would ask a waiter for a check. 

You pulled the pen from your hair and it fell onto your shoulders. It was keeping a somewhat bun shape just to get it out of your face. He took the pen and leaned on the closest desk to start filling out the form.

You stood there, watching him write. In reality, you had no idea what you were supposed to be doing with him still there. After a minute, he returned the form and the pen to you. “So, how does this work?”

“I just have to enter some of your information into the system, I’ll scan the record digitally and you’ll be able to access it online in about a half-hour, I think.” He followed you to your computer and stood a bit too close as you started to enter his information into the system.

“You think?” He raised a brow.

You shrugged. “I mean, I know. It’s just pretty rare that someone actually comes in. And it’s my boss that does it. She’s on vacation right now. Of course, who goes on vacation in the middle of February?”

“It’s cheaper.” He answered.

“I guess so.” You continued to fill out the information into the system. “You know, you don’t have to stay anymore. I’ll have the record sent to your email.”

He pursed his lips and adjusted his windbreaker. “It was nice meeting you, um…”

“Y/n. You too, um.” You looked at the form. Patrick Parker. “Patrick.”

Once you looked from your screen to his direction, he was long gone. Strange man. You took a closer look at the records he was requesting. The murder of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Strange men indeed.

No matter how strange the interaction you had was, it still took your mind off of The Riddler. You hadn’t thought about opening up the chat log again until you finally reached your apartment. The laptop almost beckoned you to open it while it was on the counter and you were eating dinner.

“Jesus. Okay.” You put your food on the table and brought your laptop. The chat was pulled up after a moment.

<me> Are you there?

You continued to eat, glancing at the chat log. The small availability dot appeared next to his screen name. He didn’t respond. 

<me> Riddler.

<me> I know you’re there.

You finished your dinner, still with no response. The dishes were done and drying when you returned to your laptop. He was still there, but not speaking. 

<me> Please.

<?> Such a desperate slut.

<?> I love it when you beg.

<me> I have a question for you.

<?> Yes?

<me> Why do you do what you do?

<?> For justice.

<me> I mean, the violence part. 

<?> Change doesn’t happen peacefully.

<?> You can’t just ask the corrupt to treat people like us with respect.

<?> Or give us the things that are rightfully ours.

<me> What about fixing the system from the inside?

<?> It’s naive to believe things like that.

<?> We can’t fix the system.

<?> It has to be destroyed and rebuilt.

<me> And that’s what you plan on doing?

<?> Precisely.

<me> I want to help you.

<?> How could you possibly help?

<me> I have access to the entirety of the GCPD police record system.

<me> No questions asked.

<?> They are public records.

<?> Anyone has access.

<me> Well.

<me> What can I do?

<?> You can be an informant.

<me> Like, tell you what the police are saying?

<?> Yes.

<me> I can do that.

<?> Good girl.

The surge of adrenaline that shot through you was hard to ignore. You were successfully doing undercover work and seemingly gaining trust in the Riddler. Even harder to ignore was that heat that pooled in between your legs when he praised you. For all that you knew, he was some ugly, basement dweller.

What were you even thinking? He’s a serial killer. A literal killer that plans on killing many more people.

<?> I’m sending you a gift.

<me> A gift?

<?> Yes. 

<me> Why?

<me> What is it?

<?> It’s a surprise.

The Riddler’s surprise gift that was supposedly getting to you could’ve been so many things. What if it was a bomb? You knew that he had your workplace and if he knew your name, he could’ve found your address. Easily. 

It took a week for the package to arrive at your front door. It was larger than you thought. After a long day of work, you had to drag the box into your apartment before anyone asked any questions. You took your pocket knife and cut open the box. What was inside made your jaw drop. You went straight to your laptop.

<me> What the fuck?

<me> Why would you give this to me?

<?> You don’t like it?

<me> No.

<?> I want to see you use it.

<me> I’m not touching that thing.

<?> But you are.

<?> It’s custom made.

<?> And remote controlled.

<me> You’re disgusting.

<?> And you’re still going to do what I tell you to do.

<me> And why is that?

<?> Because I have so many pictures of you that I’m sure your employers won’t want to see. 

<me> What pictures?

<?> Attached 3 Images.

Pictures of you from that first night appeared on your screen. Topless photos with your face clearly in the frame along with one without your pants. You gasped.

<?> Take it out of the box.

You resisted the urge to say no. The box stared at you from across the room. You got up and pulled it out of the box. It was a dildo connected to a metal base. It was not an unnatural skin color. It was pale, not entirely large, but not small. In the living room you placed it upright on the rug and brought your laptop to face it.

<?> Strip.

<?> Don’t make me wait, slut.

You grabbed the edges of your shirt and pulled it off, your pants following shortly. After a deep breath and the reminder that your life would probably be ruined if you stopped here, you unhooked your bra and rolled your panties down your legs.

<?> Touch yourself.

Your hand trembled as you reached your clit and gently started to rub circles over it. This was necessary no matter how uncomfortable you were knowing that he was watching. You had to be at least a little wet before he commanded you to start using the dildo.

<?> I want you to put your mouth on it.

The machine and the synthetic cock attached to it taunted you as you got closer to it. Glancing at the laptop for a moment, you licked the head. You slowly began to take the cock deeper in your mouth, doing your best to pretend that it was something real and connected to someone you liked. What was the name of the guy from the forensics unit? Ben? Yeah, you imagined it to be him.

Your phone began to ring and you looked at the screen for him to tell you what to do now.

<?> Answer.

The caller ID said that it was an unknown number. You picked up. “Hello?”

A modulated male voice came through the other line. “Get back to sucking, slut.” 

Of course, he knew your number. He probably knew your shoe size, favorite drink, and childhood dog’s name. “I won’t be able to talk.”

“That’s the point. I want to hear you gag.” Still with the phone on your ear, you returned to gently sucking the cock. A quiet beep came from it and it began to push slowly further into your mouth. He would be mad if you pulled away, so you tried your best to take as much of it before the tip poked against the back of your throat.

You gagged and pulled away from the machine. Your voice rasped. “No more.”

He sighed from the other line. “Then get on it.”

Not wanting to look at the camera, you kept your stare to the ground and lined your entrance up to the awaiting cock. As you sank low enough so that the tip was inside of you, another beep filled the silence. The machine pushed the cock into you entirely. You moaned out of surprise and the sudden feeling of being full, followed by whimpering as the machine, or The Riddler, didn’t let you get used to the unfamiliar stretch.

“That’s right. Moan for me, slut.” The machine’s pace quickened and you couldn't hold your voice no matter how hard you tried. Your moans and whimpers filled the air. Riddler wasn’t visible, but you could almost feel that he had a smug little smirk on his face. “You’re mine, you hear that? All mine. Say you’re the Riddler’s whore.”

“M’not saying that.”

The machine stopped its assault. The pattern changed to pushing entirely into you as fast as possible, then slowly pulling out. It was excruciating. It just kept going on like that. 

“I’m The Riddler’s whore. Now stop it.” Your body jolted with each thrust. 

“What was that? Say it nice and clear to the camera.”

You turned your head to face the laptop. “I’m The Riddler’s whore.”

The machine sped up back to its original fast pace. “Good girl. Do you know what good girls get?”

All of your brain power was focused on answering. “What?”

The machine stopped, sheathed fully inside of you. “They get cum.” A warm liquid shot out of the synthetic cock and filled your insides. You didn’t even realize what was happening until most of it had already been expelled into you, threatening to enter your womb.

Looking down at yourself, droplets of cum spilled from your opening. “What is that? That’s not real, right?”

“It’s real. I’ve been keeping it nice and warm just for you. Feel honored.” He hung up the phone.

At least you were on the pill.

At work, the next day, you walked in with a small container that held as much of the Riddler’s semen as you possibly could gather after the fact. How were you even going to explain this to the detective? Sexted the serial killer and now I have some evidence! That’s insane.

You handed the container to one of the forensics workers. “I need this DNA tested. It’s connected to the Riddler case.” Be brief with details and get out of there. 

You felt safe again when you were in the archive room and finally away from everyone else. A knock on the door caught your attention. The same man from a few weeks ago stood. Patrick Parker, you think it was. Some alliteration like that. 

“Couldn’t figure out the website. Figured I’d just come here again.” He blushed as he spoke and avoided eye contact with you. Still strange, but at least he seemed a little sweet.

You stood from your chair. “Yeah, the forms are just over here.”

#edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #odiesdayoff

[odiesdayoff]

Masterlist!

*indicates smut!

EDWARD NASHTON [THE BATMAN]

Fics:

The Unfortunate Demise of Edward Nashton(’s Love Life)

*Borrow (+ Adrian Chase)

*Leaving For Good

Series:

*Studying Pays Off / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 /

*So Undercover / 2 / 3 /

Drabbles:

*Fortnite!

ADRIAN CHASE [PEACEMAKER]

Fics:

*Borrow (+ Edward Nashton)

BURT FABELMAN [THE FABELMANS]

Fics:

Parent-Teacher Conference

JAIME REYES [BLUE BEETLE]

Fics:

*Trust Your Instincts

Drabbles:

*NSFW Alphabet

#odiesdayoff

[odiesdayoff]

scenario i thought about while playing Fortnite the other day: Eddie giving you head while ur on mic during a match...

warnings: smut, oral (f. receiving), keeping quiet, does this count as semi-public or voyeurism(?), fortnite terms

Edward heard the once muffled sounds of gunshots and soft speaking grow louder when he opened the door and walked through it. After a long day of work, there you were on the couch, fully enthralled in your game. Your microphone was tilted in front of his mouth. “There’s shooting on your six. Okay, he’s down. I got you.”

He closed the front door and dropped his things on the countertop. “I’m home, dear.” He walked into the living room area of your small, shared apartment. 

He looked at the screen. Your character ran through a little house and collected items along the way. The team you were playing with, just friends from college that Edward rarely knew, followed you and did the same. 

You didn’t peel your eyes from the screen while you greeted him, more focused on shooting the random person in front of you. “How was work, hon?” 

“It was work.” He shrugged, shifting himself closer to you on the couch. He placed a hand on your thigh. “I missed you.” He kissed your cheek. 

Your aim got a little off, causing you to get shot and your teammates to step in and knock down the opponent trying to kill you. “Eddie. C’mon.” You shifted away from him, trying to keep your focus.

He ignored you, moving his trail of sloppy kisses down to your neck. More opponents ran into your area, effectively killing you and your teammates. You turned off your mic, took off the headset, and faced him. “You know this is my stress-reliever. I let you do your things. Why is this different?”

He pulls back. “I know something else that can be a stress reliever.”

With a mischievous grin on his face, he knelt in front of you. His fingers slipped under the waistband of your pants. “Eddie, we’re about to start a match.”

“That’s fine. Turn your mic on and play as you normally would. Don’t mind me.” He pulled your pants to your ankles. You could feel the sudden chill against your pussy once it was no longer protected by your clothing.

Hesitantly, you turned on your mic and placed the headset back on. Your character was standing aimlessly in the lobby waiting for the game to start. A wave of anxiety shot through you once the game started. "Let's go to, um, Ruined Reels."

Edward looked up at you as you locked your focus onto the screen. His eyes fell to your sex, ready for him to devour. He gently grabbed your inner thighs and pushed your legs open, then leaned in.

The feeling of his hot breath against your cunt made you involuntarily gasp. Your character wasn't on the ground yet, nothing was affecting the game.

He slipped his tongue inside of you at first, then quickly moved up to tracing circles on your clit. He smiled against you as you slightly tensed up at the sudden rush of arousal forming.

A teammate asked a question. You were far too busy trying to get armed in the game and keep quiet with Edward trying his best to make you cum as fast as possible to hear her.

You blinked, then ran to her location to help her fight an opponent. "I got 'em. Fuck." That could be played off as anger towards the game, hopefully.

Edward rubbed small circles on your inner thighs. The both of you knew how incredibly close you were to having a full-blown orgasm. He knew from a lot of experience that you were never one to keep quiet during sex. He was surprised you lasted this long.

You shut your eyes but quickly had to reopen them when you heard someone shooting at you. Your hands were trembling as you tried your best to aim and fire at the enemy.

Your character fell down. Immediately, you shut the microphone off and held onto Edward's hair. The death screen appeared on the television as you moaned his name and shook. He lapped up your cum like a man starved.

The two of you locked eyes. "You made me die."

#edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #odiesdayoff

[odiesdayoff]

Leaving For Good

pair: Edward Nashton (Dano) x fem!reader

summary: You're sick of Edward prioritizing the Riddler over you...

warnings: SMUT (18++ MINORS DNI); non/dubcon elements; sex in an elevator; unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it); darkish!reader; forced creampie/breeding

There he was. Sitting slouched at his computer just as he did night after night, researching politicians or whatever he occupied his time with. Between his 9-5 at the accounting firm and his Riddler business, you were a lot less than an afterthought in his routine. Edward hadn’t touched you in weeks.

Your lack of a sex life wasn’t even the biggest problem, not really. He just stopped interacting with you altogether despite the fact that you shared an apartment and slept in the same bed each night. Well, when he didn’t fall asleep in front of his computer.

He didn’t notice when you slowly started to pack your things or the phone calls you made to landlords with available apartments for you to move into. 

You watched him from in front of the front door, suitcases sitting around you. “Eddie, I’m leaving.” He barely nodded to acknowledge your words. You cleared your throat. “Did you hear me? I’m leaving.”

He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, finally turning to look at you. His annoyed look turned into confusion. “Where are you going?” He fixes his posture. 

“I found a new apartment and…we’re done.” You tried to hold yourself up, not allowing the words leaving your mouth to have an effect on you. 

It took a second for him to process. He jumped up from his chair and made his way to you. “Woah, woah, woah. Where did this come from?”

You shuttered as his hand rested on your bicep. Getting laid would be the first thing you did once you left. You knew that you desperately needed it. “Now you care? When was the last time we went on a date? I feel like we’re just roommates.”

“I have a lot of more important things to worry about than your feelings.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

You purse your lips and nodded. “Bye, Edward.” You turned to the door and opened it, pulling your suitcases with you down the hallway.

Edward chased after you, calling your name and apologizing. You did your best to ignore him and keep a steady pace toward the elevator. The doors opened and you both stepped in, him still pleading for you to talk to him.

A few floors down, he slammed his hand against the emergency stop button. “You’re not leaving. I love you and I fucked up, okay? I can’t lose you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, darling.” He cupped your cheek. Tears fell from his eyes, something you rarely saw happen.

You shook your head. “I’m not falling for your empty promises anymore.”

“Please, let me show you how much you mean to me.” He leaned into you and kissed your cheek, then trailed down to your neck and collarbone.

You wanted to push him off and tell him how much he hurt you after all these years you’ve been together, but you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel when he kissed you. Against your better judgment, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in closer. 

You could feel him smile against your skin. “Maintenance won’t be here for a while to get us out.” This building was infamous for the lazy landlords and incompetent service workers. It would be about twenty minutes for someone to arrive to help you.

One of your hands reached in front of his shirt to start unbuttoning it. He pulled your top off, his breath hitched at the sight of your breasts after all this time. For such a genius, he was really stupid for letting someone like you feel unloved.

He reached his hand under the waistband of your panties and rubbed circles on your clit. Of course, he still knew exactly how to make you melt. “Please, Edward. I need you.”

“I know, darling. You’ll have me.” His free hand went straight to his pants to free himself as fast as he possibly could. You felt a rush of cool air when you pulled your pants down, exposing yourself entirely to him. “You’re so gorgeous. I love you so much.”

He lined himself up and pushed in until he bottomed out inside of you. He whimpered at the sensation, kissing your shoulder. You missed the feeling of being so full of him. “Thank you. You feel so wonderful. My beautiful princess. Only an idiot would let you go.”

His pace was agonizingly slow, taking in the sensation of being inside of you once again. “Harder, please, Edward. Like we used to.”

Sex with Edward was intense. You loved it most when he would pound you into the mattress and tell you riddles that he knew you didn’t know the answer to and only let you come when you answered it right. He was so calm and quiet in his daily life, it was only natural that he let out his frustrations in the bedroom. You couldn’t be happier about it. 

He maneuvered you to the ground until you laid on the discarded articles of clothing. You wouldn’t even mind if you were on the disgusting elevator floor. As long as he was inside of you.

“Is this better than your livestreams?” He quickened his pace, thrusting into you like his life depended on it.

He nodded, almost out of breath. “So much better.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” 

He leaned into you and kissed you deeply. “I’d do anything for you, baby. I’m about to cum. Where do you want it?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think for a moment. “Inside.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I’m not wearing a condom and we both know you’re not on birth control. Be serious.”

“You said anything, Eddie. I want you to cum inside me. Get me pregnant, yeah?” He slowed his pace and gave you a confused look.

“No. We can’t have-” You cut him off by kissing him, locking your legs around his waist and pulling him in closer. He sat on the floor and you made sure to keep him inside you while you switched positions. 

He held your hips, trying to pull you off of him as you rode him. His pleads for you to get off became staggered, turning into soft whimpers and moans. His grip on you tightened. “You know you can’t survive on your own. You’ll have to support your family.”

He couldn’t answer you. You knew exactly why when you felt his cock twitch and the feeling of warm liquid spewing inside of you, coating your walls. You still rode him through his orgasm, making sure that you got every drop that his body wanted to give you. 

You kissed him deeply and took his hand, resting it on your stomach. “You still love me, right?”

He couldn’t speak much, only giving you an exhausted nod.

#the riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #the riddler #odiesdayoff #paul dano

[odiesdayoff]

TW: Dubcon/CNC

For you saying that you don’t mind doing darker nsfw for William Afton, do you mean like dubcon/cnc?

yes! i'm just not too into writing any type of incest/pseudo incest!!

[odiesdayoff]

william afton has a breeding kink because he thinks it will PEMDAS the amount of children he kills

#william afton x reader

[odiesdayoff]

i wanna do willy afton fics!!! pls send in requests

i don't mind doing darker nsfw stuff as long as it's not underage

#william afton x reader

[odiesdayoff]

Trust Your Instincts

pair: Jaime Reyes x fem!reader

summary: Post-graduation, your childhood friend seems to be ignoring you. Once he shows up, secrets are revealed, voluntarily or not.

warnings: SMUT (18+++ MINORS DNI); begins as like pretty dubious, but turns into both parties consenting. Really thin line here, they do have a mutual attraction and explicitly say that they want it.

im gonna be so real i saw an ad for this and started writing...lol. Haven't seen BB at the time of writing this a while ago! Characters are prob inconsistent. i just have like a severe mask kink.

honestly this is unfinished, but i know in my heart I will never get back to it no matter how many times I say it lol. Imagine what happens next teehee.

“He’s not coming?” You brought the towel from over your shoulder and continued to dry the plates as Jaime’s mother handed them to you. Lunch was over and you were excited to see your best friend, but he was awol.

She gave you a sympathetic look as she handed you another clean plate. “I’m sorry, mija. He’s been acting strange ever since he got back. I know he misses you.”

You nodded and placed the towel on the counter. There’s no way he could possibly just up and abandon you after all this time. The two of you had been best friends since the first grade and even though he went all the way to Gotham City for college and you stayed in Texas, you were still close as ever. At least you think so.

“Well, I’ve gotta go. Thank you for the lunch, you know how much I adore your cooking.” You brought her into a hug and she kissed your cheek. She was like a second mom to you. All of Jaime’s family was basically your own. It took this long for them to stop the teasing about you getting together.

It had been months since Jaime allegedly returned to Texas and yet, he hasn’t reached out to you. Not by phone or in person, no matter how much you tried to talk to him. It felt worse than any breakup you’d gone through. Usually, he was the shoulder for you to cry on. 

A loud crash woke you up. It was around two in the morning. In your flannel pajama pants and a black tank top, you ran into your living room to see what happened. There was a large hole where your door should have been and laying on the floor was Jaime.

Your hand flew to your mouth and knelt down to him. His curls stuck to his forehead from sweat and his chest rapidly rose and fell. “Get away! Please, get away!” He pushed you away, yelling and borderline whimpering.

There was something wrong with him and you weren’t just going to do what he told you. “Jaime, please just tell me what’s going on. You’re not okay.” You pushed his hair from his face only to see the fear in his eyes as he looked at you. 

He flipped to his back and crawled until he hit the wall, his body colliding into it. Another dent appeared. Chips of drywall fell on him. “I’m…gonna call an ambulance, okay?”

You pulled out your phone, but before you could even unlock it, it was no longer in your hand. Jaime, now fully covered in a blue suit of armor, crushed it in his hand. “Oh my god.”

He dropped the phone and shook his head. “I don’t control it. It controls me. I promise you.” His voice was slightly distorted due to the helmet he had on.

“Okay, so can’t you call, like, Batman or something?” If this were a normal situation, you know that he would’ve laughed.

He held your shoulders. “I need you to get away. Right now.”

You shook your head. “I’m not gonna leave you like this.”

A robotic voice came from the suit, saying your full name and society security number. Jaime started to shake his head frantically and tried to step away from you. The suit disagreed.

The suit trapped you against the counter. “Please stop!” Jaime yelled. His helmet popped open to reveal his face, still scared. “I’m so sor-” The suit didn’t let him finish, instead it pushed him towards you. His lips crashed into yours. 

You felt guilty kissing back. It wasn't either of your volition, but the teenage version of yourself was screaming and frolicking in a field of flowers just to be kissing him. 

The robotic voice returned, louder now. “It is my duty to keep you healthy. Sexual health is one of those aspects.” The suit retracted more, pulling his shirt and jeans from his body. He was left in his boxers, staring at you. It continued. “I know you have a crush on her. Don’t be a pussy.”

His eyes widened and his cheeks grew red. “Is that true?” He sheepishly nodded.

You bit your lip. “It’s true for me, too.”

#jaime reyes x reader #blue beetle x reader #blue beetle #odiesdayoff

[odiesdayoff]

throwing a "high school prom" in your apartment with Eddie because he never got to go to his own in high school, let alone have a date. You'd surprise him when he gets home from work by wearing a formal outfit. The apartment is decorated, too.

He'd probably be a little confused and hesitant at first, but he'd definitely warm up to the idea. Slow dancing, spiking the punch bowl (which is literally just a little bowl from the cabinet), maybe post prom activities (if ykyk)...

I feel like making him smile and feel loved.

#the riddler x reader #edward nashton x reader #the batman #paul dano riddler #the riddler

[odiesdayoff]

the batman 2022 but everything is the same except the riddler wears the squeaky boots from spongebob

#the batman #the riddler

[odiesdayoff]

i need Edward Nashton to call me stupid and dumb and make fun of me for not being able to answer his riddles correctly. "Oh you're really not as smart as I thought you were" type beat. I need to tell him that we should just print more money to see his reaction. I think that would fix me.

#edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #the riddler #paul dano #the batman

[odiesdayoff]

That scene from Dumb Money where he has to stream with his baby...what if that was Eddie??

He'd be ranting about Gotham's elite and how they're gonna flood the city with a baby bouncing on his lap or asleep against his chest. Maybe he's feeding the baby and making it some analogy about the city's corruption.

I just think he'd be so cute!!! I love dilf!Edward

#edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #the riddler #the batman #paul dano #edward nashton