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enbyonmandalore · 1 year

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Taxi Driver

Rating: SFW 18+

Word count: 1479

Warnings: Crimes (duh), creepy dudes, mention of murder, mention of weapons, the general feeling of being stalked

Summary: You're a taxi driver in Gotham City with a special side-hustle: Getaway driver. Late one Halloween night, you get a call to pick someone up and you're sucked into a plot you couldn't escape even if you wanted to.

A/N: This is a prequel of sorts to my one-shot "Whereabouts" (NSFW) which you can find by clicking the corresponding tag or here: https://at.tumblr.com/enbyonmandalore/whereabouts/5nitzdf8v1oc

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Taxi Driver

October 31st, 11:45 PM

Just another Thursday night.

Not a single call had come in during the last three hours. Guess the other drivers are getting all the action., you thought to yourself. Neither your colleagues, nor your boss had radioed you yet, so while pulling into an empty parking lot, you fumbled your phone from your pocket and opened Candy Crush. You were well aware of the danger this put you in -yes, car-jacking or whatever the cops called it these days was still a thing-, but you weren't all too worried. All the bad guys were busy robbing corner stores and vandalizing shit tonight; nobody would pay attention to you. Still, you kept a second phone hidden on you for emergencies. Halloween in Gotham always went crazy.

Honestly, you enjoyed sitting in the dark for about half an hour, playing Candy Crush and not wasting expensive gas. Driving around was fun and all, but sometimes it got boring. Like, really, really boring. Driving fast was more your style, which is why you'd become a taxi driver in the first place, but your pay was barely enough to get by. So when your boss had offered you to join the "Driver's Association" for some much-needed extra cash, you hadn't really thought twice. Turns out you had become a getaway driver for pretty much any criminal in Gotham City then and there.

Well shit, if that's the only way to make rent and fund college and not starve... Then so be it!, had been your thoughts. It really wasn't too big of a deal. It's not like you were actively participating in the crimes, you just waited for a bunch of dudes in masks to jump in the back of your taxi and speed off to a safe location. Okay, technically that made you part of a heist (or, in your case 17 heists), but who actually counts the driver anyway?

Before you could dive deeper into that particular pool of thoughts, your radio crackled to life.

"Taxi 3-17, d'you copy?", the voice of your boss echoed though your car and you hastily fumbled for the radio.

"I copy", you exclaimed as cheerfully as possible.

"I need you to pick up somebody from main street"

The rest of the directions were but a blur in your mind as the taxi sprang to life and you found yourself replying to the boss like you were on autopilot. You knew exactly what this was. Another getway.

November 1st, 00:25 AM

Gotham City's main street was still incredibly crowded. People in costumes lined the sidewalks left and right, leftovers from the big Halloween parade the city held each year. In the back of your mind there was a little voice that accompanied you on each of these drives. What if Batman is watching?, it said. But Batman was probably busy. Just like everyone else. You'd never seen him yourself, but occasionally the people you drove had some very interesting and oddly terrifying things to say about Gotham's vigilante. You turned a corner into a back alley and let the taxi slow to a stop. This was where you were supposed to pick someone up.

Just two seconds after putting the car into Park, the back door on the driver's side was yanked open. Turning around so fast you heard your spine crack, you caught sight of a man slightly older than yourself plopping into the seat with a duffle bag and closing the door. Immediately there were alarm bells going off in your head. Sitting behind the driver as the only passenger is an extreme red flag. Instinctively, your hand made its way to the taser you kept at your side, but you slowed yourself and forced your mind not to make assumptions.

Turning back around, you cleared your throat. "Where to, mister?"

"The Iceberg Lounge", he answered. His voice sounded harmless enough. He seemed energetic, but the circles under his eyes told a different story. You had to remind yourself that this was, indeed, a criminal who had just done god-knows-what. Jeez, when had this become so normal? It spooked you, just a little bit, how calm you had remained so far. Until you caught a glimpse of what your passenger was holding in the rearview mirror.

"What's that?" The words slipped out before you could stop yourself and you had to suppress the urge to slap yourself. You don't ask a fucking criminal that kind of shit. You just don't, if you value breathing.

"Oh, this?", your passenger asked with a smile and held up a roll of duct tape. The both of you made eye contact through the mirror and you swallowed thickly. The possibilities of what could be done with a roll of tape flashing though your head were more than a bit disturbing.

This is it, I'm for sure getting robbed now...

Steering with one hand and gripping the taser with the other, you did your best to keep your voice steady.

"Put that away, please."

An unidentifyable expression spread across the man's face and the glint in his eyes behind his clear-framed glasses that came with it gave you the creeps.

"What? Are you afraid?"

"Don't try anything...stupid. If this car crashes, we both die."

What the fuck were you saying?? The nervous pounding of your heart wasn't making thinking any easier. But the man in the back seat was eerily calm. He was still smiling, but you could make out the single drop of sweat on his forehead running down towards his brow between the messy brown hair.

"Put the damn tape away, or so god help me.", you groaned, gripping your taser tighter and not taking an eye off of the man in the back seat.

"Boo", he simply said and put the roll of duct tape into his bag with a high-pitched chuckle, still maintaining eye contact through the rearview mirror like an absolute weirdo. Fuck, this guy's creepy. The creepiest guy I've ever had in my car.

You let out an only slightly shaky breath as you stopped at a red light. Yeah, just a normal taxi, nothing to see here... I'm a law-abiding citizen. Only like two more minutes til you'd arrive at the Iceberg Lounge and then you'd be rid of this guy - forever. The moment the light turned green you stepped on the gas, eager to get this job over with.

You didn't expect him to say anything after the end of the last conversation, so it surprised you when the passenger spoke again.

"Do you like riddles?"

"D-depends, I guess."

"Let me ask you something", he continued without much concern for your answer. "Five people go to church in the pouring rain. None of them have umbrellas, but still one doesn't get wet. How is that possible?"

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?", you replied, focusing on the road. Five people in the rain, but one stays dry? You came to a halt at another red light. Rain, church, only one stays dry...

"One guy is dead!", you blurted out, "One is in a coffin"

"Correct!", your passenger exclaimed enthusiastically. "Another?"

"Fine.", you said, your voice barely more than a sigh, just as the light turned green.

"What is in seasons, seconds, minutes and centuries, but not in decades, years or days?"

That one admittedly took you a little longer to figure out, but you eventually did. "The letter N?"

"Yes!", he confirmed, splitting the word into two syllables. He was straight-up beaming by the time you pulled in front of the Iceberg Lounge Club.

"Thank you.", the passenger said politely when the car had come to a complete stop.

"That'll be 300$, mister uh... Mister what's-your-name?"

He chuckled and shot you a look out of the corner of his eye while opening the door. He stepped outside and came to your window, which you rolled down the tiniest bit.

"You can call me the Riddler", he said ominously, holding a finger up to his lips. "Shh."

You nodded briefly, your lips a tight line. "Well, Riddler, if you ever need a ride again, you know who to call. Company promises if you keep our secret, we'll keep yours.", you said and held out a hand for the payment.

"I will remember you.", he replied, looking into your eyes so deeply you wondered what he saw in you for a second.

Instead of handing you the money, Riddler just motioned to the back seat. You turned around and grabbed the envelope sitting on the seat and when you turned back to the window, he was gone. Quickly you checked the envelope with trembling hands. Yup, 300$ and a little extra. A small smile crept across your lips now. You had the gut feeling that you had not, in fact, seen the last of this guy.

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This fanfiction is property of @enbyonmandalore (Tumblr). Do not repost/crosspost on other accounts or websites, edit, translate or otherwise change this piece of writing. Rebloging is fine, reposting is not.

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enbyonmandalore · 2 years

Text

Whereabouts

The Riddler x gender neutral reader (no y/n)

Rating: NSFW 18+ only

Word count: 3154

Warnings: non-penetrative sex, light bondage, fear and a little focused violence (aka fear play), predator/prey kink if that's what you wanna call it, some pain, some degradation, masturbation, mention of stalking, cnc ROLEPLAY, dead dove: do not eat. Don't @ me.

Summary: You're a taxi driver and your night does not go as you had imagined - you find yourself in a sticky situation involving duct tape and a certain criminal.

A/N: For all of you whores who fantasize about getting used by the Riddler... This is my present for you on my birthday. Enjoy <3

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Whereabouts

The sound of your footsteps, accompanied by your labored breath was the only thing you could hear. But, in the back of your mind, you were sure you could hear something else - a second set of quick footsteps and a quiet laugh echoing through the empty shell of a building. Was it just your imagination? Or was he really so close behind? You were sure you had a decent head start, no way this guy could catch up with you so fast, let alone know where exactly you were. The warehouse was huge, after all. Goddamn, where was the exit? You had to find the exit. A concerning thought crossed your mind. What if he was anticipating just that? What if he was waiting at the exit and not actually chasing you? But that thought disappeared just as quick as it came as you rounded a corner and found yourself in a run-down bathroom.

Dirt and trash and debris lay on the floor, the toilet stalls were broken and some half-destroyed urinals lined the opposite wall. Catching your breath for a moment, you ducked behind one of the toilets; out of sight, if someone were to come past the open door. Your breath hitched as you listened for sounds besides your heartbeat. Footsteps. Someone was coming in your direction. Instinctively you covered your mouth and tried to suffocate any noise you could possibly make.

The steps came closer and closer and- stopped right in front of the bathroom. Your eyes widened in fear as every muscle in your body tightened and every hair stood up. But the person standing in the door walked away after a few more seconds of silence. Oh my god. Once you were sure he was no longer anywhere near your hiding spot, you got up. Slowly, as to not make any noise that could give away your position, you crept out of the stall and out of the room and continued back in the direction you had come from.

Speeding up again, you made your way through a large hall with broken floor-to-ceiling windows. The cold nightly breeze was refreshing after the amount of running you had done this evening, but you didn't dare to stop and enjoy it. Your mind was still playing tricks on you, telling you that your stalker wasn't far behind and you could still hear his faint chuckling echo in the back of your skull... Or was it? You looked over your shoulder, just to be sure. What was that? A reflection of light? You subconsciously slowed down and took a better look at your surroundings. Shards of glass were all over the place, but the last bit of logical thinking you had left told you that there was no window where that reflection came from. You felt your throat close up and the hair on the back of you neck stood up in fear as you stared into the darkness. Your eyes darted to one of the smashed windows, scanning the night sky outside within a split second. The moment you focused back on the dark corner, the eerie reflection had vanished. But you couldn't look away. Walking backwards you managed to get about halfway through the hall without catching another glimpse of your stalker. Until you tripped.

The silence was broken by the sound of your body hitting the concrete floor, producing an extremely loud echo. Or at least it felt extremely loud, you couldn't really tell over the sound of your own racing heartbeat. Your eyes darted from one corner of the room to the next, expecting the man chasing you to emerge from the shadows at any second. He was here, you knew it and you knew that he now knew where you were... You scrambled to your feet and spun around, searching the darkness for any sign of him again before gritting your teeth in pain. You'd twisted your ankle. Great.

Your run now impaired by a limp, you made it out of the empty hall and tried to jog through the maze of rooms and hallways to finally find an exit to this hell hole of a construction site. After a few more minutes you came across a door that miraculously still had a handle on it and, with few other options, decided to duck into the room behind it to take a look at your ankle. Surely you were already covered in cuts and bruises. The door surprisingly didn't creak too much as you closed it behind yourself and shuffled further into the room. There were windows in this room, too, but this side of the construction site was facing away from the busy streets of Gotham City, so there were no streetlights or car lights shining though the windows. In the dark you could make out the shape of a desk standing by the wall to the left of the windows and approached it. The table was full of clutter, but -to your surprise- there was also a small desk lamp. With a long exhale you went to turn it on so you could examine your ankle. You found the switch at the base of the lamp and pressed it, but when the bulb lit up you didn't get the illumination you had been expecting. Not because the bulb was old or broken, no. Because there was a gloved hand covering most of the bulb.

You screamed in horror and stumbled back. The dim light from the tiny lamp was enough to illuminate the outline of a man standing right next to the desk. And when he took his hand off of the light bulb you got a good long look at him. The reflection of the light on his glasses obscured his eyes, but you felt him stare you down. He was dressed in a big green army jacket and cargo pants, his face hidden behind a dark green, leathery mask. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as he stepped forward. You wanted to move, but you found yourself paralyzed with pure terror. How could he sneak up on you like that? The closer he came, the more you noticed your bottom lip trembling now.

"Oh shit", was the only thing you could muster up as the perceived slow motion stopped and the Riddler's hands darted toward your throat. That cruel laugh you'd been hearing from all directions before filled the room once again as he slammed you into the desk. You gasped for air as your head hit the wooden desk, immediately inhaling a load of dust. The Riddler was now pinning you against the table with his entire body weight, holding your wrists behind your back and you struggled to breathe properly. He stopped laughing and took a deep breath himself before he spoke.

"You really thought you could just run away? I thought you were smarter than that."

You wanted to retaliate, you really did, but the words were stuck in your throat. So instead you tried to kick him. The Riddler only sighed at your pathetic attempt to fight back and the next thing you knew was that you were yelping in pain as he nudged your twisted ankle with his foot. Hot tears welled up in your eyes and you blinked repeatedly, blindly trying to free yourself from his grip.

"Get away from me, you...fucking freak!", you hissed. Your comment earned another chuckle from the Riddler - it sounded like he was straight-up pitying you.

"I can't do that", he answered and his grip on you loosened ever so slightly, "Not now that I'm this close..."

He let go of your arms, only to hold you down with an elbow to the spine while fumbling for something. You cursed under your breath and tried to push yourself away from the table. Wicked escape plans fueled by the adrenaline in your veins flashed through your head, but you knew that ultimately you were no match for this man. The world became blurry and you had to really fight back the tears this time, until the sound of tape being pulled from the roll brought you back to reality.

"Now. Just hold still.", the Riddler mumbled between heavy breaths and grabbed your wrist. Instinctively you went limp and he brought both of your arms behind your back again with ease. He bent your elbows so they faced outwards and the sound of the duct tape wrapping around your wrists and forearms made you shudder. The Riddler took his sweet time making sure your arms were secured tightly before letting go of you. Not that him letting go changed anything. You were still bent over and trapped between him and the desk. A sudden wave of bravery washed over you, transforming most of your fear into anger and words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

"Get the fuck off of me or I'll scream so loud that even the strippers in the Iceberg Lounge are gonna know what's going on here. F- Fuck you!"

The Riddler paused for a moment, his hands resting on your back, just above your ass.

"No, you won't.", he said and sounded eerily friendly.

His hands slid down the sides of your body and you felt his weight shift. By now your knees were trembling and the feeling of his gloved hands on you made your stomach swoop, but it didn't make you any less angry. You twisted and turned your upper body in an attempt to shake him off, but it was no use. You felt his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips and sucked in a sharp breath. Anger quickly became panic again when the Riddler moved you away from the desk just enough to find the buckle of your belt, subsequently grinding his hips against your ass even more. Your irate protesting was completely ignored, as he unbuckled your belt and slid his fingers underneath your pant-line. With a firm tug he managed to pull your pants along with your underwear below your ass and you felt your face immediately heat up. Holy shit. Another tug followed and your pants were pooled around your ankles, completely exposing your rear end. You heard the Riddler inhale sharply and then sigh, his gloved fingers tracing over your exposed skin. The cold air gave you goosebumps and you squeezed your eyes shut.

"D-don't touch me", you snapped.

The Riddler scoffed and straightened his shoulders. Then he grabbed the roll of tape and tore off another piece. Your head was pulled back by the hair in an almost gentle way - almost. He leaned down so you could almost make eye contact and shook his head.

"Don't lie.", was all he said before fixing the piece of tape over your mouth and all your protesting was reduced to incomprehensible whimpers.

"You're cute, all tied up and struggling", he stated and admired his work. "Pathetic suits you."

The statement made you blush with shame. Not enough shame to drown out the ever increasing swirl of excitement in your gut, though. You couldn't deny that being this helpless turned you on; like something primal had woken up deep inside you. The Riddler was a freak in a mask who liked to stalk his victims, but you... You were a different kind of freak, apparently.

The Riddler's hand smacking down on your ass interrupted your train of thought, if you could even call it that, and a muffled yelp escaped your throat. His voice sounded hoarse and raspy when he spoke. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this."

The fear you'd felt earlier had mixed with the arousal in your veins and become an intoxicating mess of emotion. There was no telling as to what he would do next, you would just have to let him. The sound of his belt unbuckling and the zipper opening sent an ice cold shiver down your spine and right into your core. Your body was still pressed firmly against the edge of the desk and it was starting to dig into your flesh; instinctively it made you squirm. An ungodly, deep moan came from the man behind you as he pulled his erect cock from his pants and gave himself a slow pump. You whimpered as his fingers dug into your bare hip again and you felt the heat emitting from his body. You swallowed thickly. The next thing you felt was his erection on your ass - not trying to penetrate, but rather aligning itself with the curve of your body. You caught yourself imagining what he must look like now; were his eyes squeezed shut like your own at the sensation or were they rolling back into his skull? And was his mouth opened in a silent moan under that mask or were his lips pressed together in a thin line, full of concentration?

You didn't know and you wouldn't know. All you could know was that the Riddler was grinding his cock against your ass, slamming you harder against the wooden table with each move and likely bruising your hips with that iron grip. Oh, you were going to feel this tomorrow... The Riddler's airy moans filled the room with every passing moment as he dry-humped you in shifting intervals. Sometimes faster and rougher, then slower again and that's when he got loud. You yelped in pain after a particularly rough thrust and he slowed down even further. His hands started to wander - to the underside of your body as if to check on your hipbones with a light touch, then along your back and underneath your shirt. The leather of his gloves felt warm on your skin, even when his fingertips started to dig into your back and you couldn't help but moan.

The sound you made must have triggered something in the Riddler's brain, because he leaned over you again and brought a hand up to your face. You turned your head in his direction as far as you could to catch a glimpse of him. His fingers moved across the makeshift gag, caressing your cheek. Without any further warning he tore the tape off of your face. The curse that formed in your throat had no chance to escape, though, as his hand quickly covered your mouth to shush you. Once he seemed sure that you had calmed down he removed his hand, but remained in your field of vision.

"Good.", was all he said.

Funny how a single word could make the area between your legs tingle like that... You yearned for him to touch you and he knew. But he just stood there, pressed against you and studying your face. Breathing heavily, you stared back at him. You didn't know what to do, should you-

"I thought you didn't want me to touch you. Changed your mind?"

"What the- Yeah. I did", you admitted through gritted teeth and immediately felt yourself blush again and hoped he didn't notice.

A little bit of dread arose in your chest when he didn't move. He wouldn't dare make you beg, would he?

"Tell me to, then", he finally said, followed by a condescending giggle. Oh god you wished you could see his face right now. The Riddler disappeared from your line of sight and began moving his hips against yours again, both of his hands holding your hips steady. His hard cock was merely an inch from your entrance... You could feel the blood pulsing between your legs and the knot in your stomach growing tighter. You wanted, no you needed him to touch you. You felt the last bit of dignity you thought you had slip through your fingers as you stuttered the magic words: "T- touch me. Please?"

He made a sound of approval as soon as you spoke.

A hand snaked underneath your body and found it's way between your legs. Riddler's body weight on top of you only amplified the sensation of him rubbing your sex and you couldn't hold back your desperate moans any longer. Grinding himself against you and stroking you at the same time - it almost felt like he was fucking you for real. His hand worked faster by the minute, fueled by the lewd sounds you made when he came to the most sensitive parts.

"Oh shit, oh shit-", you exclaimed over and over again as you felt yourself fall over the edge. When sweet release hit, it nearly knocked you out. The feeling of him still rubbing your sex drove you past your orgasm and into the searing brightness of overstimulation.

When his hand disappeared and you finally caught your breath, the first thing to come out of your mouth was a string of curse words. But Riddler wasn't done yet. He still held you with that iron grip, grinding his cock against your ass and the deepest, most lewd growl you'd ever heard came from his throat as he came. You could feel his cock pulse, then shoot rope after rope of cum onto your skin. Involuntarily you bit your lip.

All that was audible was the both of you panting, completely out of sync. A few moments passed until the Riddler even let go of your limp body and stepped away. It took a second for you to realize that and the fact that you could stand up straight again now. As you did so, you bumped into the man standing right behind you. Without making eye contact he pulled out some tissues and began cleaning you up.

"Hey, uhm... Do you mind?", you said with an exhausted smile and not-so-subtly pointed out that your wrists were still taped together. Instead of answering, the Riddler reached into one of the pockets of his cargo pants and pulled out a box cutter. You turned around and within a second your arms were free. You wiggled them around for a moment to relax the muscles and pulled up your pants before you began removing the duct tape from your sleeves. He watched you silently.

"That was... I don't know if I should say terrific or terrifying", you told him and raised an eyebrow to underline the fact that you were joking.

"If I remember correctly -and I do- you said Give me some action and don't hold back, Riddler."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean Make me shit myself in fear.", you replied and plopped down behind the steering wheel of your taxi. "Still, I liked it, if that clears things up."

He paused for a moment, his eyes unmoving behind his clear glasses. And then, with a deep sigh, he finally spoke again.

"Honesty. I like that."

"So...", you drew out the word, "If you ever need a certain driver again, you know which number to call."

And with that you winked, rolled up your window and sped off into the night.

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This fanfiction is property of @enbyonmandalore (Tumblr). I do not own any characters associated with the Batman franchise. Do not repost/crosspost on other accounts or websites, edit, translate or otherwise change this piece of writing. Rebloging is fine, reposting is not.

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