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finniestoncrane · 2 years

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There's Fire In Your Belly

Chapter 1

Percy Dolarhyde x Female!Reader, word count: 1.8k i cannot cope with how down bad i am for greasy bastards and cowboys any longer so here we are i guess. this was going to be a one-shot but i had a lot of feelings to get out...anyway, cheers to my lovely lil buds @sweetums0kitty and @e-moneyyy for encouraging this ;-; request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: language, misogyny, marking, ropes, guns, violence, voyeurism, forceful behaviour, spanking, bondage, posessiveness, mean cowboys with bad attitudes

Somewhat arid and lonesome, you had hoped the New Mexico territory would be a safe space for you. For so long all you had hoped for was to live normally, putting everything you had done, everyone you had been, behind you. No longer suffering from the outlaw status that dogged you, you were optimistic that the semi-isolated town of Absolution might be a safe place. And with enough distance between you and your past, it might never be able to catch up to you. A letter sent ahead to the inn, your luggage paid to be escorted by train and to be collected by the landlord, you chose to travel by horse. Stations were risky, there was always the possibility that you might be recognised from an old and faded wanted poster. There was no grey in this country. Everything was black and white, and in the eyes of the law you were once, and always would be, a criminal, no matter the circumstances that led you to that life.

But you were desperate to be normal now. You’d be calm, cause no problems. You’d strive to behave decently and work for a living. Some sense of stability, normalcy, no one to lead you astray who knew your proficient skills, all of which were devious and tended to lend themselves better to a life of robbery and violence. Pulling into the town, you hitched up outside of the general store, across the dirt crossroads from the inn where you waved at the man pulling your cases inside. Some provisions were needed for your journey to the outskirts of town, where you were set to start work on a ranch as one of the hands. Women’s work had never suited you, and no one had bothered when you said you were willing to work the women’s wage for the tougher work. Money was money, they were glad to pay you less, and you were glad to receive it.

Inside the store, the dust settled, glistening in the sun beams from the two windows at the front and back. Floorboards creaking under your step, you offered a polite and soft smile to the man behind the counter. He had looked you up and down, in your pants, shirt and boots, not befitting the ladylike ideals they instilled on women in a place like this. But your face had always been kind and welcoming, and that usually eased the gentle-senses of the menfolk. As you picked through the cans, tonics and medicines, you heard the ring of the bell at the front, not turning to check at first until you heard the voice call out.

“Well, hey there beautiful!”

You lifted your head from where you stared at the various tinned foods, but still kept your head and gaze forward. Not before you could feel his hot breath on your neck did you turn to the side slightly.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Sir!? Oh, I like you already.”

“I can’t say the same, if you’ll excuse me.”

He brought a hand up and rested it against your stomach, holding you back lightly from walking to the counter. The older man behind it began to speak.

“Now, Percy, ain’t no reason to-”

“I don’t remember askin’ you, old man.” He took a few slow and steady steps around to your front, looking down at you, his tall and slender frame somehow still imposing. As he spoke to you now, in such close quarters, you could smell the putrid, sweet stench of alcohol and years of grime on his breath. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

“That doesn’t usually matter to your types.”

“So cold. It’s hardly befitting of a lady to speak to your superiors like that.”

“I don’t know who you are, mister, but no man who has walked in from the street is my superior.”

You attempted to side step and walk past him, but he met you, doing a short back and forth dance with you in the middle of the store, before he stepped forward and knocked you back, your body clattering softly against the shelves. He brought one hand up to lean on the shelf, close to your head. The other, he held in front of his face, inspecting his nails, the dirt underneath which was black and thick.

“I’m afraid I’m not just some man, darlin’. You’ll learn that soon enough. But why save yourself the embarrassment later” he leaned his face into yours, filthy fingers trailing up your forearm, “when you could just accept my interests now. It’ll be less humiliating for you when you come begging after me in the future.”

“Hmmm” you let out a contented sigh, smiling sweetly up at him, “if it ever happens, it will be safe to assume that I’ll have taken a kick to the head by some disturbed mule.”

“Can’t make you any dumber than you already are.” He laughed, hand grazing your arm and finding it’s way to your hip. The contact was too much. For all that you wanted to be decent. Pleasant, not a trouble in town, this was more than you could stand. With a quick, split-second movement, you brought your head back and quickly forward again, the perfect height to crack into the soft bump of his nose, which began to bleed profusely. Not as tough as he had been a minute ago, he let out a soft whimper and began stumbling to the door, blood trailing on the floor boards behind him. With a quick apology, and leaving more money than you had to, you paid for your goods and collecting them in your satchel, leaving the store and heading straight to the inn, not even making an effort to search the streets for this Percy character. Your bags were waiting in your room, key in your hand and assurance that a wagon had been hired to take you to your new job in the morning, despite the brief conflict there had been much worse days in your life.

A night’s sleep had done you the world of good. Barely thinking of your interaction with that man, who you knew you would likely never meet again, for more than five minutes after you had entered the odd luxury of four walls and a roof, a bath and a rest in a bed with a proper mattress had lightened your mood. Your luggage and provisions, as well as yourself, loaded into the wagon, you had set off on the entirely pleasant and mercifully short journey through fields and ranch boundaries to the ranch where you were to work and stay for the foreseeable future. Excited about the mundanity of it all, you were pleased to lay back on the wooden bed of the wagon and watch the clouds go by as you fast approached your new and normal future.

Your luggage was gathered at the other end by two fellow ranch hands, who showed you to the hand in charge and showed you your tent by the camp where the workers stayed. Some of them had wives, families, it was like a little community just on the edges of the main ranch buildings, across from the barn and a short walk from the main house. From where you were, you could see an older man standing on the porch, who began to walk over to you and the other hands. He was followed slowly behind by a younger looking figure. Upon reaching you, the older gentleman shook your hand, hesitating at first when he really took stock of how feminine your body was, obviously wondering if you would be able to keep up with the work you had agreed to take on. But your handshake was strong, and reassuring, and Colonel Woodrow Dolarhyde warmed to you quickly, thankfully. He gestured at the figure approaching at a sulking, glacial pace.

“And this is my son, he’ll show you around. I have business to attend to, if you’ll excuse me, miss.” He tipped his hat to you, before turning on his heel in the dirt and yelling after the other man. “Get a move on Percy!”

Your heart dropped. It couldn’t possibly have been the same one. There was no way on god’s green earth that fate could be this cruel to you. But as he approached closer, you could see the look of recognition in his face turn to sickening pleasure as he sneered at you. Not offering a handshake, he looked you up and down where you stood, gaze lingering on your frame.

“Looks like I am your superior after all, then.” He leaned in close, whispering into your ear. “And I am going to make you regret your actions in town, little lady.” He stepped back, laughing loudly and slapping your arm, smacking the back of another ranch hand who was standing off to your side. “Now, ain’t you boys got work to do? Don’t be standing around here all day. Get to it you lazy asses!” He spat to the ground where they were standing.

The look of disappointment, of simmering rage, must have been plainly obvious on your face and you were making no effort to conceal it.

“You ok there, missy?”

“Yes.”

“Yes…what?”

You sighed

“Yes, sir. Mister Dolarhyde.”

“Mmm, sounds sweet.”

You turned to walk away from him and he gripped your arm, pulling you back around to face him, his fingers pressed into your skin as he held you in place, face close enough to yours that you could smell his breath again, just as overwhelmingly sickening as it had been the day before.

“I know you’re not as innocent as you play. I can see it in your eyes. There’s something just under the surface. No normal woman would dare pull what you did the other day. You’re a criminal, I can smell it on ya, and I don’t like the idea of a criminal on my property.”

The pressure of his fingers on your flesh, his dirty nails stabbing into you even through the flannel of your shirt, was enough to instil just a bit of fear in you. Not in reaction to Percy and his attempt at a brutish threat, but more at the build up inside of you that you struggled to suppress. The last thing you needed was to cause a fuss on the first day of your new life. Breathing in and out, slow and steady, you swallowed your words and smiled at Percy. It set him back, he narrowed his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he stared deep into your eyes as though he were trying to read your mind.

“I’ll be keeping an eye on you, darlin’. First step out of line and I will see you shot myself. So, you best do exactly what I ask of you when I ask it.”

He brought his hand to your cheek, slapping it softly twice and pouting his lips out at you before letting go of your arm and allowing you to stumble back away from him before rushing to catch up with the other farmhands. As you walked away, you heard Percy whistling at you, but you were tempered enough not to give him any reaction at all.

#also what is that BEARD paul OMG just stop trying to grow one you dumb boy #finnie writes #percy dolarhyde #cowboys and aliens #cowboys & aliens #percy dolarhyde x reader #percy dolarhyde x you #paul dano #danocel #danonation #percy dolarhyde x y/n #percy dolarhyde smut #percy dolarhyde fanfic #paul dano fanfic #paul dano fanfiction

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wishfullyeternal · 2 years

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Riddler x Reader- Kidnapped Pt 2

Words- 1,139

Warnings- SMUT, NSFW, language, general violence, NONCON, DUBCON, bondage, knifeplay, you get the jist

Please exercise caution when reading!

A/N- This is my first NSFW story, so please be gentle. Please read pt 1 first to get the entire story! Requests are open, and as always, love you lovelies!

"If you would, smile at the camera please, it would make me very happy!" You frowned, but the bright light from his phone made your eyes squint. He grabbed your jaw and pulled it towards himself, contorting you in a way that made it very uncomfortable to move.

"I said, smile..." You mustered the saddest looking smile anyone has ever seen, and he flashed a picture. He took a moment to take off his mask and throw it across the room. You saw the surprisingly average-looking man in front of you, with short, unkept dirty-blond hair, and soft features.

"You got any family? Or are you alone like Batman?" You shut your eyes, and when he let go, you gasped for air, chest heaving.

"I can figure that out later my dearest, now we've got some work to do." He lifted you up from the ground and brought you to his bed. The checkerboard comforter looked as if it had been black and white fifteen years ago, but were now permanently stained grey and brown from God knows what.

"Now stay here..." He laughed to himself and watched as your struggled against the tape once more. He grabbed a couple of things from a desk drawer across the room.

"One or two, you get to choose," He muttered something about it rhyming, but you were too busy trying to get a good look at what he was hiding. Something in your guy told you two, so you said it quietly.

"Two?" He nodded,

"Good choice darling," He held up the same knife that was embedded against the wall.

He climbed onto the bed with you and pushed you towards the headboard. He grabbed his infamous duct tape from a pocket in his coat and put another piece on your mouth.

"Wouldn't want you making too much noise, would I?" At the sight of him undressing, you widened your eyes. He only took off his coat and pants, revealing boxers and a wifebeater. Ironic. You tried to protest, and get the tape off of your mouth, but nothing was budging. Panic was rising from your chest, the feeling of bile tunneling through your throat.

"Now, now, now, let's not get too rowdy here, I don't want to kill you, and I have no intention of killing you, so please, just stay still. You're absolutely perfect." He fiddled with his hands, unable to decide where he should touch first. His eyes were focused intently on the shape of your breasts, and the thought of him touching them made your newfound nausea even worse. He held up the hunting knife, metal glinting in the moonlight, before taking it to the hem of your shirt and ripping through it like butter. The sound of ripping fabric made you wince and he quickly went to take off your bottoms. You tried to move your legs, to make it as hard as possible for him to take them off, but he simply put his weight on them, steadying you.

You made a noise from behind the tape, and he smiled. A weird smile, no teeth, just a simple upturn of his lips.

"Don't try and speak my dear, it will be over soon..." He took the knife and brought it underneath your bra, cutting through the middle.

"God," He groaned,

"You're just so beautiful, so perfect." He straddled the bottom of your legs. At this point, the duct tape on your arms had begun to cut off your blood supply, and you were cold due to the lack of clothing. The Riddler grabbed your breasts extremely languidly, almost as if he had never seen them before. The fatty tissue was squished under his hands, and you could feel the rough leather exterior of his gloves. He moved to take them off, and somehow, the pads of his fingers felt worse than the leather. He took the tape off of your mouth in one fluid motion, allowing you to speak.

"Please don't do this to me..." You stammered,

"Shush dearest, it will be over soon." He unbuckled the belt from his dark jeans, and you laid your head back, unable to fight back. This was the end of you.

He could kill you right now, but instead, he's going to fucking destroy you. You could hear him pump his cock a few times, the precum already slickly coating the skin. He shoved your legs open, and you brought your head up to look him in the eyes, tears pooling at the edges.

"Oh honey, don't cry" He lined up his average-at-best-looking cock, and slid in.

"Oh my god..." He closed his eyes, pleasure filling his body. You thought it would hurt more, considering your dryness, but his precum lubed up just fine.

He thrust into you a few times and you tried to keep the noises down to a minimum, hoping that he would finish quicker.

"God you're so fucking tight," His cock twitched inside you, and tears finally fell down your face.

"Call me by my name," He caught your chin in his hand, and gripped it so hard you were sure it would leave finger-shaped bruises.

"Riddler, please" You faked the begging, hoping that he would cum fast and get this fucking over with.

"Do you like the Riddler's cock?" You moaned, his cock finally reaching your sweet spot. He slapped your face and kissed it all over.

"Let me control you..." He whispered into your ear,

It was all over you thought, finally giving up on fighting back.

"Control me, please" His thrusts were harder, slamming into the soft flesh of your pussy.

"Good girl" He said, gripping a portion of your hair and pulling it. You yowled in pain, but the combined sensation of his thrusts turned it into a moan.

"Such a good little slut for me, aren't you?" You nodded, The Riddler beginning to rub your clit. Pleasure unfolded from your muscles, and you were quickly close to your climax.

"Riddler please," You gasped, he only ran his hands over your body, his mouth open, lewd noises filling the room.

"Oh fuck, cum with me," His thrusts were slower, but he still rubbed your clit with such fury it was impossible not to cum.

"Oh God Riddler, please," He grabs your throat, silencing your moans. Your pussy begins to squeeze around his cock, your mouth permanently open. The riddler groans heavily and you feel a warm fullness, his hand finally leaving your throat to pump himself through his orgasm. He pulls out slowly, savoring the moment, before seeing the massive amount of cum flow out of your pussy.

"God you felt so good," He said, catching his breath. You sighed, and closed your eyes, ready to faint from both the trauma and exhaustion.

"Stay awake for me, okay?" His voice was gentle, and at that point, you couldn't even begin to open your eyes, muscles all over you burning.

You fainted quickly, the apartment slipping through your vision.

"Don't fain-"

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g0redump · 2 years

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🎀𝔼𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕝🎀 Calvin Weir-Fields/GN!Reader

THIS FIC IS NSFW - MINORS DNI - 18+ - AGE IN BIO ━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━ a/n: First post woo! I’ve really been craving Calvin fics for a hot minute but i genuinely cannot seem to find any that aren’t either dubcon or just plain vanilla. You absolutely cannot tell me that Calvin wouldn’t be into some fucky shit. Just look at him. He reeks mommy kink. This isn’t a mommy kink fic, however, (I might write one if y’all are down but for now I need smth simple to write) this is just blowjob city. This drabble was inspired by a friend.

Warnings: Explicit NSFW, Descriptions of Blowjobs, Pet names (Bunny, Angel, Darling), Throat Fucking, Oral (M receiving), Soft!Dom Calvin, Lots of Praise, Spitting, Blowjob while in meeting, Cum swallowing

How could he say no to you? With your lip pouted ever so gently as you clasped your hands together in mock prayer. He swore you would be the death of him. You knew he would be in a meeting all day with his publishing company. He’d been so busy with writing something new, giving you hardly any of the attention you so well deserved. You had begged and whined for any ounce of his presence, but it just wasn’t possible. He’d been to tired to give you his full attention and he insisted that you deserved him at his best. Yet, here you were on your knees with a hidden glint of sultry desire hidden behind your eyes, right before him with your hands joined. You were teasing him just with your outfit. A soft ivory dress shirt partially unbuttoned at the top to reveal your sternum, skin tight pajama shorts that left nothing to the imagination. God, if you ever dressed this way for anyone else he might have a stroke. But you didn’t dress this way for anyone else. Just for him. Only for him.

He could already sense your arousal just by the way you conducted yourself. A gentle pant left your lips as you waited for his approval, hands still firmly clasped as if you were asking for forgiveness for being so inconveniently needy.

Calvin glanced up at his laptop screen, taking a moment to contemplate the consequences. He surely would be heavily reprimanded if caught, and the likely hood of him getting caught was high. His moans always gave away his stoic demeanor whenever he was inside of you at any capacity.

Regardless of his better judgement, he slowly nodded and shifted his hands to his belt very carefully. You had been so good for the past few days. How did you not deserve a reward? Your mouth began to water and slack, preparing for the incoming intrusion. You even began to help him out of his tight slacks, bulge becoming visible through the fabric. The cold air hit his shaft and made him hiss under his breath as he tried to cover his noises in the heel of his palm, feigning boredom to his colleagues. Jolting at the slick feeling of your tongue, Calvin coughed through a whine, your mouth making way from base to shaft.

Your hand reached up to grip the base of his cock, stroking and twisting painfully slow. He wanted to order you around already, command you to stop being a brat. He was giving you what you wanted so why were you being difficult? If you wanted to be a brat, he would treat you like one and give all of his lovely coworkers a show as he fucked you silly on his wooden desk. Sweat began to form on his forehead as you continued to suck and jerk him. His hips stuttering when your lips wrapped around his head. He loved seeing you like this for him, effortlessly milking him dry for all he’s worth. Because you knew that when all was said and done, you would receive your own treat. Biting into his palm he muttered something barely audible, making sure to mute himself before he spoke. “Fuck... You’re so good for me. You’ve wanted this for so long.” His other hand reached down to pet your hair, making sure not to tug on it. He wouldn’t want to hurt his little bunny. His sweet bunny. Who did so good for him and made him feel a way he’s never experienced before. And you were real. You were real and you were here and you were wrapped tightly around his cock. He could feel the tight coil in his stomach begin to form, length twitching into your mouth as he began to grow impatient with this meeting. All he craved right now was to take you there and then on his table, praise you for being so good for him. You knew his weakness. One thing that Calvin had always loved was a good deepthroat. You had mastered your craft in your endeavor to service him. Up above you, you heard some of the men starting to say their goodbyes, asking Calvin what he would be doing tonight. Taking this opportunity to get a rise out of him, you quickly tucked your thumb under your fist with as much pressure as you could muster and dipped your head forward. He coughed and near flung his chair backwards as you held yourself steady, his pubic hair tickling your nose. He nodded and replied to his editor, “O-Oh! Just dinner, you know how it is! Haha! Oh jeez Scotty is getting into something! Gotta go, bye!” He slammed his laptop screen down and let out the longest drawn out whine. His hands tangled firmly into your hair as he started to relax and ease you back off his length. “Bunny, please... Let me fuck your throat.. P-please I need you so bad.” He always wanted your consent before doing anything rough with you, he wanted to make sure you could savor all the effort he put into fucking you raw, whether it be your mouth or hole. Staring up at him with glossy eyes full of tears, you nodded and gasped for air, the shadow of his dick reaching across your face. Calvin wasted no time to stand up, leaning his arms onto the desk and tightly gripping your hair, easing you back onto his member. Preparing for the sloppiest blowjob you have ever given in your life, you hollowed out your cheeks and took a large sum of air through your nose. Yes, he was gentle at first but as soon as he was buried fully into your mouth he began to thrust. Thrust with so much power and vigor, you started to see white. He marveled in the way you stared up at him as he fucked your throat, muscles clamping down around his head. Calvin saw drool pooling at the sides of your mouth and smiled at your state. “Take it. You were built just for me, Angel. Don’t forget who fucks your throat this good. Fuck!” He was getting closer, his stomach building so much pressure it was almost painful. His hips began to grow sloppy as he panted and moaned absolutely vulgar things above you. You always learned to experiment new things ever since meeting Calvin. The one thing you were always curious about was if men enjoyed their balls being massaged during blowjobs. What better way to learn than in the act. Your hands reached up to fondle his balls, rubbing them between your forefinger and thumb. ”A-Angel wait, fuck, I can’t-” That was his breaking point. The sudden feeling of hot seed dripping deep down your throat invaded your senses. You desperately tried to swallow as much as you could, but Calvin’s dick was a near hose. Sticky cum started to spill out onto your chin and your collar bones, tears mixing to make a beautiful sight. Calvin rode out his orgasm with a few gentle thrusts before slowly pulling his half-soft cock out and whimpering. His glasses were near falling off and his hair was wet with sweat and messy. He looked at you and relished in the sight of you, his angel, his bunny, his entire world. A mess and covered in his cum. If his phone was near, he definitely would have snapped a photo of you. He took his hand from your hair and cleaned a line of seed from your face with his thumb, speaking to you gently as if he did not just tear your throat up. “Open your mouth, darling. We can’t let this go to waste can we? Especially after all that hard work you did.” Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, drool connecting between your lips as you presented your wet cavern for him. He shoved his thumb into your mouth, not before gripping your chin and spitting directly inside. You moaned quietly at the gift and swallowed around his thumb, making sure to wriggle your tongue around his digit. The same exasperated smile you grew to love with was your ultimate reward. Calvin began to pet your head again, calloused and lanky fingers pushing your hair out of your face. “How about we continue this after dinner?”

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a/n: HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS AS MUCH AS I DID WRITING IT. I ALSO HOPE U ENJOYED THIS MELO.

#paul dano #calvin weir fields #ruby sparks #danonation #fanfic #paul dano fanfiction #calvin weir fields x reader #nasty

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imagine--if · 10 months

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Can I ask for a Dano Riddler imagine? where him and Yn grew up together (she was in the girls wing of the orphanage and they talked through the walls, like him and the joker on the film) and she goes to see him in Arkham, and she's really sad that he's there, because they promissed each other that they'd never leave one another, and it's tearful and all, but he promisses her that he'll leave soon and never be apart ever again😭❤

A/N: I've just gotten round to reading the fourth issue of Riddler Year One so yessss I've totally got plenty of inspo for this imagine 😁 enjoy!!

Wordcount: 2.2K

"She doesn't say much. And when she does, it's hard to make it out. Shy little thing. Still, she'll get used to it. She'll have to."

You were only four or five when you were dumped in Gotham's orphanage, clutching onto your soft toy as an only source of comfort and some kind of stability in a terrifying world, and an even worse city. You were quiet, barely spoke, and when you did, it was in whispers, all wide, innocent eyes and secretive, the hood up on your little hoodie as you tried your best to hide yourself from everything and everyone. Just a toddler, with a sweet life twisted by death and misfortune that you barely understood as a toddler. You had shuffled meekly behind a carer who led you into the orphanage, a cold and cruel building that they expected you to call home.

The other kids there seemed so much bigger, loud and dominating and aggressive, half of them on drops, only around twelve years old. Others were plain bullies with filthy mouths and hateful glares, children's eyes glancing at you, assessing your small, shy form, before they carried on with what they were doing in disinterest.

You had buried your face in your toy and pulled the fabric of your hood up past your hair and head, over your forehead, shadowing your face, trying to disappear in it. You pulled your legs up to your chest and watched everything happen behind your toy, its fur pressed up against your face. A group of kids watched TV and fought over the remote, others played nearby outside, but from your spot hunched in a corner, opposite you, sat a boy almost as quiet as you. You gazed at him in silence for a few long minutes, absorbed in his puzzle book, and only when he looked up to get a fresh pencil did he notice your young, curious eyes fixed on him.

He was a few years older than you, with glasses pushed up his nose, making his murky green eyes twinkle as they looked back at you nervously. He gave you a small smile, the first genuine smile you'd received in maybe your whole life, awkward and hesitant. You blinked back at him timidly, hugging your toy closer with little hands, returning his smile bashfully. The boy seemed taken aback by the action, and beamed at you, a beat of hesitance passing before he offered you a pen. You stared at it, then at him, and wandered over, sitting beside him and accepting his offer. You barely knew how to read or write, and so you watched him instead, the quiet boy with a nice smile and lots of books, day after day.

And as the days went by, both of you becoming closer and more comfortable together, Edward would start talking to you in his small, sweet voice, writing answers to riddles with a hand over yours, pulling your littler form into his lap after a couple of weeks and reading to you, then helping you read, helping you speak up a little. He'd even speak for you with others, managing to push past his own shyness every so often to help you, to repeat your whispered, lispy voice to those who couldn't catch it. You'd trail after him throughout the day when you could, before you were taken back to the girls' dorm, and you'd linger in the separating corridor, afraid of the idea of you two parting and him never coming back out of his long, shared boys' room.

"I'll see you in the morning," He'd always say soothingly, giving you a warm hug, bending down slightly so you could return it properly. "I'll never leave you. You know that."

And you'd nod, because you knew Edward was telling the truth by the way he said it and looked at you with earnest, young eyes, letting you borrow a book to amuse yourself with if the nights got too long,

But then foster families and adoptees started popping up. And you, being a young, sweet-looking child, albeit a little shy, are swept up into the grips of a random 'family,' and the quickness of how your name's signed away to people you don't even know and have no say over makes your head spin. The orphanage was overcrowded anyway, and one less mouth to feed in exchange for money made all the difference.

Edward, on the other hand, was beside himself.

Newspapers and library books on adoption and rules and any ways to prevent what was happening piled up beside his bed, to the dorm he'd been disciplined to stay in for his shocking outbursts of frustration and hatred and upset. Thomas Wayne's renewal plan could help him, he thought. He'd already assured him that he could get to a special school to study and learn and have a brighter future.

So on the last night you could spend together, sneaking out of the corridor of a room you slept in with the other girls, Edward filled out the form in his shaky, uneven writing, stating on one line that he wanted to go to the school he'd talked about, and on the other, 'I want to stay with my best friend and stop them from being taken away by bad people.'

REJECTED.

The word stamped in bold, horrid red print was the response he got, the word that bled into his mind as you were made to pack a bag and wave goodbye and go, handing your young life over to strangers, and Edward couldn't do a thing about it. You were carted off out of Gotham to go to school and expected to become a whole new person.

But you couldn't.

The years went by agonisingly slowly, and with every one that passed, you thought about him, your friend, Edward. Did he get adopted too? Did he manage to find some source of happiness and hope afterwards? Would he even remember you if you went back?

Eventually, you save up enough money and have enough time to go back to where it all started, in the unfeeling streets of Gotham City. You had no idea where to look, and after hearing from someone that the orphanage had been burned down ages ago, your last resort was to ask at the GCPD.

"Sorry to bother you," you say with an awkward smile, as a detective greets you and asks if he can be any help; 'Lieutenant James Gordon,' his name tag reads, "I'm looking for someone who I think still lives here? We were friends a while ago, and... I'm sorry, you look busy."

"We are quite busy, Miss," Gordon tells you, looking a little overwhelmed. "We've just managed to catch some crazy psycho who's been letting hell loose recently."

Your eyes widen in confusion and interest. "Wow... that's... yeah, I'm sorry, it's okay."

"No, go on," Gordon nods, letting you into his office, "have you got a name, address or anything?"

"I don't know his address," you say in uncertainty. "We were friends as kids. His name's Edward. Edward Nashton?"

Jams Gordon stops abruptly, whirling around to face you with demanding, bewildered eyes.

"Excuse me?"

You frown. "What?"

"Are you trying to be funny?" Gordon says in shock. "Edward Nashton? That's who you're looking for?"

You nod slowly, and Gordon sighs, taking off his glasses and hiding his face in a hand.

"Look, Miss, I don't know how new you are to Gotham, but Edward Nashton has just been arrested and sent to Arkham Asylum for the crimes committed under the name of The Riddler. He was only just apprehended a few hours ago."

Your breath catches in your throat in disbelief, as Gordon's eyes narrow suspiciously, looking you up and down.

"And you really knew nothing about this? You aren't an accessory?"

"I- no," you shake your head, "I only just made it to Gotham this evening."

Gordon nods slowly, though he still doesn't seem convinced. He suddenly grabs his jacket and opens the office door, glancing back at you.

"Come with me."

You follow him meekly, as he leads you out of the building and into a police car. Are you going to be arrested? Could your Eddie really have done this? Why?

Gordon stops outside Arkham, opening the car door for you to step out, and leads you inside, showing his badge to the guards, who let you proceed. The walls are strong and metallic and thick, and the cells are sealed with heavy iron doors with a small, barred rectangular window at their tops. You try not to let your attention wander, sticking close to Gordon, until he reaches an interrogation room. A mad dressed in a jet-black bat suit already stands there with a frustrated look in his dark eyes, and Gordon signals for you to wait as he goes over to the Batman and whispers something you can't quite make out in his ear. The Batman looks over at you quickly, his expression unreadable, and then he approaches you.

"You know Nashton?" his deep, whispery voice states more than asks, and you nod.

Batman stares at you for another moment before marching back into the interrogation room, nodding at you impatiently to come in. You do, blinking at the hard lights and the security cameras glaring at you from the corners of the room. And, behind the strong, glass partition and metal desk, a young man sits staring at you in disbelief.

Clear, dorky glasses. Murky green eyes. Soft, sandy brown hair. It's definitely him.

"Edward?" you say breathlessly, going to step closer, but the Batman gives you a wary look. "Ed, is that really you?"

He nods wordlessly, his eyes wide and stunned. But beneath that familiar, comforting look he's always had, there's a layer you can only just make out, like a hidden spark of insanity, one that's made the whole city go into a frenzy and even The Batman apprehensive. Edward whispers your name like a prayer, his hands pressed up against the protective glass.

"You came back," he says in wonder, as Gordon and Batman glance between the two of you in uncertainty, but you're not focused on them at all, like the whole world is disappearing around you. "I- I knew you would..."

"What happened?" you say, overwhelmed by the whole scenario, staring in wonder at the now grown-up orphan labelled a criminal in front of you. "What did you do?"

"What I had to do," he smiles brightly, adoringly at you, that glimmer of insanity coming to the surface. "What they made me do. And I did it for you, too."

"Me?"

"Who else?" Edward giggles, standing up and moving closer to the glass, his hands cuffed and chained. "They tried to break us apart. But you came back. I've been waiting for so long..."

"What does she know about this?" The Batman slices through the moment, and Edward glances at him distractedly. "Have you been doing this together?"

"Of course not," Edward breathes, turning his attention back to you with a sweet smile. "She's too pure for that. Too shy, and lovely... it was me. But you inspired me," he insists, looking straight at you, "to make a clean slate, and clean it all up, so that it'd be perfect for us. And it will be, angel. You coming back was the last piece of the puzzle." Edward suddenly gives you that all-too familiar soft, loving look you'd seen back in the orphanage, and you have to fight to compose yourself, wanting so badly to run to him like you did so many times before. "You look so beautiful. You haven't changed a bit..."

You feel like crying, stunned by the casualness of what he's saying and admitting to. "I... oh Edward..." you shake your head, giving him a desperate look. "You're in Arkham."

"That's right," Batman interjects again, "you can't be together. You're a psychopath, Nashton. You're not getting out. I'm sending her back home."

"No, wait," you cut in desperately, still feeling just as drawn to the genius madman even after the dark truths, "please, I don't want to leave him, I can help..."

A guard interrupts, bursting into the interrogation room, and you all turn to him.

"There's been explosions," the guard announces, "the city walls have collapsed and the main road's flooded."

As he speaks, Edward giggles to himself, giving the masked vigilante a dark, unhinged look that makes your heart jump in your chest.

"She's not going anywhere," he says excitedly, grinning at you. "You're right where you need to be. We can watch the whole thing together."

The Batman dithers between leaving and staying, eventually rushing out of the room, along with Gordon, to deal with the flooding crisis, and a guard hustles you out of the room as Edward's voice calls out your name from behind you.

"You'll never leave me again! We were meant to be! You know it's true, darling! You know!"

You manage to glance back at him as you leave, studying his crazed, ecstatic look, that same softness in his eyes as the day you had to leave, but tainted with madness. But as you look, you can't help but smile back at him slightly, because you know it's true.

As the waters invade the city and the building erupts into panic along with the rest of Gotham, you know it's true. And maybe that'll make this all worth it.

⭒❃.✮:▹ 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ◃:✮.❃⭒ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

@misadventures0fdes @junebugp @simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @dangerouslittlefairy @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowersleep @hxney-lemcn @callsigncrash @bokksieu @skateb0red @philiasoul@felicityofbakerstreet @deadlights-darling @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

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astrok1dz · 7 months

Note

❤️ Glad you’re back! ❤️

I can’t remember your request guidelines rn so I’m gonna play it safe. Coddling and complimenting Eddie? 👀

RRRAHHHH THAT WAS QUICK!!!!!!! ALR, YES. Eddie needs to be spoiled and just. so much attention. I am very much willing to give that to him. that being said

cw: Eddie being traumatized (duh), a bit of angst, a dash of relationship issues, dw they fix it, happy ending, fluff

Never Too Much

-----

okay so bc of Eddie's past, we know he most probably has a lot of trouble getting into relationships, let alone romantic ones.

so when he met you, and obsessed over you, of course, he felt so lucky he could even breathe the same air as you

but nothing good ever lasts for him, everything is ripped away from him by this god forsaken city. he tries not to get too attached (and fails miserably) so he's shy for longer than he should be.

he's just trying to be prepared for when you'll leave him.

he's absolutely surprised when you don't

he doesn't say anything, of course, but he's just utterly confused

how? how didn't you leave him? all this city had taught him was how he wasn't good enough, how he was different, and how different people, people like him, don't get anything nice. don't deserve anything nice.

you notice this. you always do. it's not hard to tell when he's overthinking. he'll stop and take deep breaths or immerse himself in puzzles, but you're working on communication

you decide to start coddling Edward. to spoil him a little bit.

it doesn't even have to be something big, he'll be grateful for whatever you give him, although he doesn't quite know how to tell you or thank you properly

Eddie hadn't been your Eddie for the last two weeks or so, consumed with work and his plans to cleanse the city. He hadn't had the energy to be quite romantic or intimate lately, so things had been a little colder than usual. It hurt. Did he not love you?

One day you realized your mistake. Eddie? Your Eddie worshipped you. Sure, he could have his bad moments and want some time to himself, but after all the neglect and abuse he'd lived, he probably wanted to be coddled. He just was too embarrassed to ask you to do it. No wonder things had been like this. It was your turn to take the lead.

Now you knew, and you decided to take matters into your own hands. For the last couple of weeks you had been thinking of little ways to make him feel better, and today would finally be the day when you unleashed them all onto little unsuspecting Edward.

You hear the creak and slam of the door to your apartment. In comes Edward's tumbling silhouette, shuffling around to plop down on the couch next to you. Your sweet boy, all tired from work, all tired from this city. He always was.

"Eddie! Oh honey I missed you so much...", you coo, and his heart melts, because although he knows you adore him, he's used to having his absence not quite matter.

He's silent as he shuffles a little closer to you, and you immediately receive him with open arms and an inviting hug.

"Tough day?", you ask, and he nods. You do as well, and hold his shoulders.

"I got a little surprise for you, c'mon, follow me", you tell him. He looks at you, eyebrows knitted in confusion. You help him get up and slowly peel off his jacket, take his hand, and lead him to your bathroom.

He doesn't even get to see what it is before a sweet aroma invades his nostrils. Your tiny bathroom, adorned with scented candles, bubbles and rose petals floating on your tiny tub (if you could call it that).

What?

He looks at you, confused. Why would you do this? Why you, such an angelic being, the antithesis of this dirty city, do this for him, a broken man?

"I- you didn't-", he starts.

"I didn't have to, I know. But you've been so stressed lately and I wanted to help you relax...", you explain kindly. You start shredding your clothes, ready to enter the tub with him. You extend your hand to him, and he feels as if he's being dragged to the pearly gates of heaven.

"Besides, I've been missing you so much... I wanted you all to myself a lil' bit...", you say, and ignore the sting in your eyes. You really did miss him so so much...

"You can have me all to yourself whenever you want (Y/n)...", he stutters out, feeling guilty.

"Oh...", you let out. There he was, so kind, so sweet to you, so unapologetically yours.

"Well, in that case...", you say, almost seductively, but cover up a little once again when you remember your appearance. You were so busy planning this whole thing for today, you hadn't even shaved, you hadn't taken care of yourself. It felt overwhelming. What if your appearance ruined this whole things for him?

"Shit- I didn't- I forgot to- Sorry-"

He stares at you, but his eyes sparkle and his round face is flushed as if this was the first time he's ever seen you (which you both know is not the case).

"You know I don't care about those things. I want to see you...", he says, taking your hand. He looks at you, eyes full of adoration. His hands make their way to your waist and caress it gently, bringing you closer. He leaves a chaste kiss on your lips.

A few happy tears escape your eyes. There he was, the Eddie you've been missing. You help him undress, hands sliding lovingly over every inch of skin you know he's not fond of. Eddie. Your Eddie, so soft and round and most of all, so gentle.

You both get in the tub, cuddled up together. You don't even need to say a word. You both occasionally ask each other questions regarding doubts or insecurities, and reassure each other. When you're both satisfied with each other's answers you share the silence, snuggled up.

"You're so pretty, Eddie... my baby..."

He shivers, and you keep going.

"I love you, Eddie. You're kind and so so sweet. You deserve this, Eddie"

You notice by the way he shakes that now it's his turn to cry, happy cry, of course.

"My baby, you're so strong... You're safe here, you're okay. I love you Eddie, I'll never leave you". You coo.

He sobs, feeling free to break down in your presence. You kiss his tears away.

"Th-Thank you... you're too good to me... you do too much...", he hiccups.

"Oh, but don't you get it, Eddie? It's never too much", you reply, and for the first time, he begins to believe it.

#oneshot #dano riddler #dano!riddler #danonation #edward nashton #paul dano #paul dano riddler #the batman riddler #the riddler fanfiction #riddler x reader fluff #riddler x reader #riddler 2022 #the riddler x reader #the riddler 2022 #edward nashton x you #edward nashton x reader

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danowh0re · 2 years

Text

DYING RN

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colorsofjun · 2 years

Text

i made a playlist for all you dwayne/klitz/eddie/brian/calvin lovers + eli lol<3

(ALL THE LINKS ARE PINNED TO MY PROFILE!!<3)

….he’s so pretty i want to cry.

Should i make more of these playlist? Who should I do next?

1K notes · View notes

kitmon · 2 years

Text

What Happens Behind Closed Doors and Live Cameras | Edward Nashton (The Riddler) x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's not enough to fuck you in the isolated space of his apartment, Edward needs to let everyone know just how good he takes care of his precious baby.

Pairing: Edward Nashton aka The Riddler (The Batman, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags: smut (18+ only), dom!edward, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), edging, dacryphilia, swearing (duh), BDSM elements (reader's wrists are bound and she's gagged for a good portion of the fic), praise kink, daddy kink (its only used once), kinda pet play?? there's no, like, collars or anything but he calls her 'puppy, pet, etc.,' spanking, fucking on a live stream (exhibitionism), dumbification, creampie, degradation (slut, whore, etc.), oral (m!receiving), throat fucking... I think that's it but if you catch anything, please please please let me know!

Author’s Note: I started writing this in June for a close friend's birthday but I'm fucking ass at finishing anything I start so it took me 3 months to finish this lmao! But you know what?! Better late than never so BE GRATEFUL! A fat fucking smooch and a huge thank you to @queenimmadolla for beta reading AND FUCKING KILLING IT! She left me over 250 comments and spent at least 3 hours editing this! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! So please please go send her some love, she absolutely deserves it. Happy reading, you filthy sluts <3

“Alright,” Edward mutters to himself as he fidgets with the dingy camcorder a bit more, always a stickler for the details. “And we are live.”

His voice is lilting as he presses the obvious red button upon the camera’s top, the red dot blinking in slow increments in the top corner of the LCD screen as an air of boyish excitement radiates off of him, evident in the joy laced in his voice. As he takes a step back, he rubs his covered hands in anticipation, addressing the pitiful number of viewers through the low-resolution lens of the camera he has propped over a second hand and, imbalanced tripod.

“Hi, guys,” he waves both of his hands, not able to hide the giddiness behind his movements. “I hope that you’re as excited as I am because I have,” he pauses, stepping back a few paces so his towering frame isn’t hoarding the entirety of the screen. As he does, the length of a drab mattress over a rickety metal bed frame comes into view, your naked and writhing body— dressed only in a mismatched pair of bra and panties— splayed over the pilling sheets revealing itself as well. “A little surprise.”

Your arms are bound by the wrists with what seems to be scrap cotton jersey from an old t-shirt, hands resting in curled fists over your rising and falling chest as you exhale harshly through your nose. The camera is expertly angled to keep your identity hidden, the details of your face limited to the slope of your nose and your occupied lips; separated by a gag of similar material to the tie around your wrists, effectively muffling your groans of desperation and neediness.

“As you can see, my lovely partner has offered herself up for your amusement, haven’t you, my darling?” he asks, the words leaving his lips with a condescending undertone that riles you up and has you arching your back against the mattress, bedsprings creaking beneath you. Edward takes the final few steps to the bed before sitting down at the edge of it, reaching his gloved hand towards your ankle, vinyl tracing up to your knee and back down. Having been deprived of his touch for so long, the minuscule contact has you dragging your thighs together and tossing your head back against the pillows, whimpering behind the gag like a neglected puppy in hopes that he would give in to your obvious needs.

He hums before giggling behind his mask, the sound muffled through the layers of cling wrap and cold weather plastic leather protectant.

“Looks like baby’s all hot and bothered because I won't touch her, is that right?”

“Mmhm,” you hum behind the gag, nodding your head fervently along.

His hand inches past your kneecap and up your thigh, moving closer to your aching core with a painful slowness. A wet spot had formed over the barely-there patch of fabric that clothes your cunt and you flaunt the sign of your wanting to him, curling your back against the bed and spreading your thighs, unabashed in your wanton behavior. Just as his fingertips reach the meatiest part of your thigh, only a breath away from where you silently beg him to extend his touch to, he squeezes the fat there, your skin dimpling with the force before he releases his hold on you and stands from the bed, the springs groaning with the loss of his weight and leaving you whimpering with the loss of his touch.

He steps towards the nightstand where a laptop rests, displaying a live chat. Edward reaches for the trackpad and scrolls through the few responses that have filtered in. From where you lay on the mattress, with a bit of straining, you can see the laptop’s screen and the responses on the right-hand side of it along with the live captured video of you, sprawled out along the bed, delayed only by mere seconds. From what you can see, the chat is showing an influx of interaction with waves of messages ebbing and flowing, coming to a slow stop before rushing all over again. The engagement seems to be high today, Edward often only receiving a couple dozen viewers— give or take a stream— whereas today, the chat is lively and from the view counter in the corner of the screen, you can see that nearly a hundred people have joined to watch him ruin you for their viewing pleasure.

You catch glimpses of obscene queries and remarks of adulation flickering before rippling across the screen, carried away by the next wave of comments.

Who’s the slut spread out on the bed?

I wanna see her face

I’m getting hard just watching her squirm

“Let’s see what the chat has in store for you, pet,” Edward says, interrupting your scanning of the chat and drawing your attention to his hunched-over form, still fiddling with all of the technological controls over on his end of things, clicking on this window and exiting out of that tab before he says: “What should I do to her first? The power is in the hands of the people.”

With the prompt left out in the open, responses begin cropping up within the chat, each viewer tossing their suggestion into the hat.

Undress her

Show us her tits

Show us that whore’s pussy

As Edward combs through each suggestion and mulls each one over, he hums to himself, “Hmm, seems as though the majority have a deep fascination with what you look like underneath all those clothes.” He trails off before coming to a consensus, “I suppose I can indulge them.”

He moves away from the laptop and stalks over towards you, slim shoulders hovering above you before he throws one leg over your hips and holds the other in a standing position at the side of the bed, crawling over you.

He brings his gaze down to your glistening eyes, your stare clouded with ardor, pupils dilated and shadowed over by your drooping eyelids. The look that you send him from below has his intense demeanor faltering for a moment, the man wanting nothing more than to envelop you in a tight embrace and have your soft voice coo gentle hymns of affirmation into his hair, neck and chest.

The thought is fleeting as he reacquaints himself with the situation; the game that you’re playing at but he yields to your longing and bewitching stare with just a single gesture. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, the vinyl that covers his thumb swiping over the apple of it one, two times, trailing the glove’s powdery coating over its path. His hand falls from your face, his fingers tracing the tendons of your neck, slipping past the dip of your clavicle and along the slope of your left breast. Once it reaches the underside of the bra cup, he pushes up and gropes you through the thin material. His other hand joins and soon he’s toying with both of your breasts, squeezing them and pressing them together, accentuating your cleavage before he brings his face down between them.

Edward’s mask is cool against your skin and the force of his deep inhale tickles you as he takes in your sweet scent through the brief slit of his mask. He exhales a deep sigh through his mouth before he’s reaching his hands towards the middle of the garment where a thin strip of fabric holds the two cups together. He pinches at the opposite ends of it, taking the top of each cup into his hands before ripping it apart, the sound of seams snapping encouraging you to gasp.

He isn’t very strong, not at all actually. His strength lies within his intellectual prowess but in these moments, where you are bound, helpless and at his gracious mercy, he can impress you with the slightest of aggressions. These are the moments that he finds himself to be the most powerful, the most domineering and intimidating. You worship him like this and at his weakest. He worships you just the same.

“There we go,” he mutters to himself as he admires you; your breasts on full display, nipples perked and ripe.

Your flushed chest climbs and falls in time with your heavy breathing, each rise becoming more frequent with your excitement. He lifts a hand to cup one of your lush mounds, the warmth of your skin penetrating past the elastic material of his gloves and seeping right into his skin. His thumb swipes over the apex of it, pressing against your nipple and watching with fascination as it nearly flattens into your skin before climbing to a stiff erection once more.

While Edward plays with you and watches your pliable skin mold to his fingers and palms, he wants nothing more than to latch his lips onto one of your tits and suckle your plump skin into his mouth, nibbling on the warm flesh as he watches you writhe beneath his doting lovebites.

He restrains himself though, settling for the warm weight of your breasts in his hands as he lets his imagination run wild with thoughts of what he’ll do to you the moment the cameras are turned off.

“Come here, my faithful viewers!” He cheers, his demeanor shifting seamlessly from his sultry obsession with you to his cheery and excited stream host persona. He stands from the bed, springs creaking once more with the loss of his weight as he steps towards the tripod. He detaches the camera from the stand and carries it back to you, angling it to take in the length of your helpless position; thighs rubbing together like that of a grasshopper, creating a silent sort of symphony within you that is meager in comparison to what you really yearn for. Edward’s conscious and careful to not let the lens capture anything above your cupid’s bow, tending to focus his film on your supple breasts, thighs and the erotic picture of you bound and gagged.

With your attention focused on Edward and his daunting position above you, you miss the flow of chat messages but with the way that Edward groans— the sound slipping into a giddy chuckle— you can only assume that the slim bar on the screen was painted with comments that would have your skin crawling, for better or worse.

Edward tsks at them, “Naughty, naughty, are we?”

He directs his voice to you as he informs you, “Darling, I’ll have you know that the masses are deeply creative when it comes to methods of divulging your pleasure, or alternatively, prolonging it.”

A weak sound slips past the gag crammed in your mouth and your lower body tenses, back arching over the mattress and inviting him to run his hands over you. He waddles his knees closer to you and leans over your squeezed legs, your thighs fighting to hide the embarrassingly obvious damp spot that highlights the core of your panties.

“Open up for me now,” he mutters, coaxing you to part your legs as he pries his fingers between the plush flesh of your thighs. They part with little defiance from your muscles. You squeeze your eyes shut and wrinkle your nose in frustration, pressing the side of your face into the pillow as your body yearns for his touch.

“Oh, don’t worry, puppy,” he coos, his eyes fixated on your covered center. “Be good for me and I’ll satiate your every desire.”

His hand inches up your thigh, palm soothing your heated skin as it climbs higher with each pass before his fingers finally press against your clothed cunt. Your whine climbs in pitch, choking around a gasp at the sudden pressure; he’s rubbing blindly, his index and middle finger running up the length of your panty-clad slit, feeling the warmth of your pulsing core and juices seep past the cotton of your underwear against the latex of his gloves.

“Mmm, so wet for me and I’ve hardly begun to touch you,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else present as his disbelief nearly overwhelms him.

Nearly.

His fingers continue their assault, dipping low and rubbing over the wet patch covering your hole before dragging them upwards to massage slow but firm circles against your clit. A wail escapes you, muffled by the gag and you toss your head back against the pillow, the tendons in your neck straining and bulging against the thin layer of your sheen-covered skin.

“Does my dirty baby like it when I tie her up and shut her filthy mouth? Is that what it is?” He taunts above you, the condescending pout you’re sure is on his lips coming through so clearly. “Look at this pitiful little thing; crying and humping her desperate cunt against my fingers like a little bitch in heat.”

You can't even be bothered by his degradation and bullying, the barely-there pleasure feeling like a searing brand against you as your head lulls from hanging back to falling against your shoulder. You were helpless to do anything but watch him continue his slow, torturous ministrations against your most sensitive crevice.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He croons, pushing the frilly hem of your panties to the side to expose your puffy pussy, glistening with your arousal in the low light of the room and clenching on nothing, eager to be filled as it's exposed to the cool air offered by the dingy and scraping fan twirling away in the corner.

“You love my fingers, don't you?” He goads while pushing his middle and ring finger past your entrance, pumping them in and out of you languidly.

With your speech inhibited, you can only provide him a zealous nod as you mewl at the intrusion behind your gag.

He gives a low chuckle, eyes honed on his fingers pulling out of your precious cunt, soaked to the knuckle, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His thumb rubs over your exposed clit in tandem with his probing thrusts, fingers curling to knead against that perfect spot inside of you. Your hips begin to move against his hold as you dig your fingernails into your palms and he tuts at your insubordination, reaching to prop the camcorder atop the nightstand so he can free his other hand and press it against your hip, pinning you to the mattress to keep you steady.

“Easy, baby. Told you I’d take good care of you,” he reminds you. “I’ll let you finish if you sit pretty for me.”

At his promise, you attempt to overcome your desires and keep your hips from jolting up, opting, instead, to curl and uncurl your dainty painted toes as a means of expending your energy.

He’s pulling his fingers in and out faster, fucking into your cunt at a wild speed. The subtle texture of his gloves rubbing along your walls has a warmth blooming in your stomach as the filthy noises of the latex straining and slapping wetly against you sets you alight. Your head falls back against the pillow as your eyes roll into your skull from the pressure of your impending orgasm.

Edward releases your hip and drags his free hand over the underside of your thigh, hooking into the bend of your knee to push your leg up and press it closer to your stomach to spread you wide, allowing his fingers to sink just a little bit deeper inside. His thumb continues flicking across your sensitive nub at a delectable speed and you moan a sweet sound behind the spit-soaked gag, your eyes watering as he works his fingers into that spongy patch inside you. Just as you're nearing your end, the heat in your belly building and rolling into a white explosion, he pulls his fingers out of you. The warmth dissipates and you cry out a sob, tears that had built with intense pleasure in mind falling from frustration instead as you screw your eyes tight and chew on the fabric of the gag, teeth gritted in contempt as he just chuckles above you at your misfortune.

With the tips of his fingers, he pulls your arousal from your hot, pulsing hole and spreads it across the folds of your weeping pussy, wet latex trailing up and down the expanse of your throbbing cunt. The heel of his palm just barely grazes your clit in passing as he does so, urging your body to jolt with each noncommittal touch and it only serves in frustrating you further.

“You got something to say, puppy?” He snickers and as you stare up at the static green farce, you can make out his eyes crinkling in a beady squint behind the cling wrap, a smile blooming behind his mask. You muster your best distraught look, all of which is genuine: chest heaving with the labor of bubbling tears, brows cinching, and glassy eyes downturned as you nod your head.

He brings his dry hand up to your face, trailing his fingers gingerly over the drying tear tracks that paint your heated skin before they run along the homemade gag in your mouth as he asks, “What do you think, chat? Should we let the pretty lady speak?”

It comes out distracted and hushed but the seedy microphone of the camcorder picks it up anyway. The answer is made obvious by the sudden surge of comments emerging from the low corner of the laptop’s monitor to the very top before disappearing, lost between a dozen other responses. As his eyes peek at the screen from his periphery, he’s left amused at their enthusiasm.

“You’re in luck, pet,” he cooes down at you. “Looks like they want to hear those pretty little cries of yours.”

He lifts the still-slick fingers of his other hand to your chin, drawing them up at a slow jagged pace until he reaches the frayed and curling edge of the fabric lodged between your teeth. He hooks his fingers into the cloth and pulls it out of your mouth so it can fall, damp and limp across your throat.

Your lips are flushed and swollen, glowing with a mixture of your saliva and your own arousal having traveled from the tips of Edward’s fingers to paint your cupid’s bow and chin. You whine as his touch leaves you again, just as quick as it came.

“Please, baby,” your voice croaks, hoarse from lack of use. “Wanna cum so bad. I‘ll do anything, just please let me cum.”

“Okay, puppy,” he caves to your begging and your body slumps as a weak smile plays across your lips. “But first, you have to suck my cock.”

A sick shimmer blooms within your irises, eyes glistening with lust at his terse command. Though your cunt throbs and leaks between your legs, teary with neglect, the thought of having Edward’s thick cock prodding at the gummy flesh of your throat, choking you with the girth of him— it was much too good to pass up, not that he would have let you have a say, anyhow.

His hands travel up his thighs as he leans back to sit on his calves, head angled down to monitor his movements as deft fingers glacially begin popping the button of his trousers open, the sound of his zipper loud with each plastic tooth of it he passes during its climb down. You strain your neck to watch his every move. You can see the outline of his dick, the prominent bulge stressing the blue tartan fabric of his boxers.

After lowering his pants, he pushes his thumbs past the waistband of his underwear and pulls the tattered fabric down, revealing the pale brown smattering of hair above his pubic bone that trails down and fleshes out into a bushy tuft. The golden brown netherhair crowns the base of his cock and paves the way for his pink, throbbing shaft and blushing head to spring free, bobbing against his stomach. At the substantial sight of it, all pretty and ready for your mouth, a whimper simpers past your lips, your hips involuntarily jolting against the bed.

“It's okay, puppy, don’t you worry,” he reassures you with a breathless sigh, stroking his cock in lazy pumps. His eyes gaze over your body with a predatory gleam. “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”

He crawls over your crumpled figure, with as much grace as he can muster while holding his dick in one hand, sitting in a hover over your chest. His knees are planted parallel to your shoulders, his cock at eye level and you find your lips parting, almost on instinct, as an invitation for him to smother you with his length. With him so close, your eyes can only focus on the ruddy, leaking tip of him, disappearing within the snug wrap of foreskin before peeking out again with each thrust of Edward’s hips into his fist. Pre-cum oozes past his slit, the near-pearlescent liquid beginning to dribble down the underside of him at the change in angle.

His strong hand reaches for your face, fingers digging into the pillowy flesh of your cheeks to steal your attention away from his delicious offering and onto his piercing eyes. Your lips are forced into a dopey pucker and your eyes begin to glimmer with childish tears, the water blooming from your unspoken need and neglect though the rest of your features remain passive, obedient.

“You want this cock, sweetheart?” He teases, grabbing his dick from the base and tapping the sticky, shiny head against your bottom lip. Your tongue darts out to collect the salty residue he leaves behind, savoring the distinct tang.

You nod your head as best as you can with his hold, still unyielding. You can hear a giggle pass his lips before he speaks.

“Show me how much you want it, baby”

He releases your face with a shove and cants his hips forward so the head of his dick prods at your mouth. You reach your bound hands forward and have your palms travel over his stomach, pushing his hoodie and jacket up to reveal his pudgy, white belly. In quick succession, he seizes your conjoined wrists and presses them further up the bed with a heavy and hard grip so your arms extend over your head, your breath catching in your throat as he does so. Edward leans down so his face is mere centimeters away from yours, his piercing and near-frightening green eyes glare at you through the fogged plastic of his cling wrap and behind the crystalline lenses of his glasses.

With a gruff and mean voice he commands, “Suck.”

You’re quick to comply as soon as he straightens himself, giving the head of his cock a baiting kitten lick before your jaw creaks open, allowing you to finally wrap your lips around him. You push your head forward and swallow as much of him as you can with the awkward setup, craning forward and tilting your head to try and stuff him down your greedy throat. He groans and tosses his head back as you struggle to take the length of him, tongue swirling and tracing the veins that wind up his shaft.

With one hand still occupied with your wrists, Edward uses the other to fist the hair at the nape of your neck and force you further down his cock, your nose grazing the coarse hair decorating his pubic bone with each of his vigorous thrusts. The tip of his dick is testing the spongy tissue at the back of your throat, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as your gag reflex strains to remain idle.

He yanks at your hair, pulling you off after a particularly rough suck with a shudder and a groan as he grips the very base of his cock and squeezes there, almost as if he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“Gonna fucking come with your whore’s mouth working me like that,” he pants. “But I’d much rather watch it seep out of your puffy, spent hole.”

His words are wispy like he could hardly believe it himself, “Gonna ruin this pussy, mark you from the inside so you always know who you belong to, so they know you belong to.”

You love the possessive slur of his words, finding it amusing that, despite this whole ordeal being his idea, he can't stand the idea of anyone even thinking of burying themselves in what's his. His filthy words spur your aching core on further, a rush of slick trickling past your folds as you clench around nothing. You push your hips up against his ass and whimper, lip trembling, tired of his cruel game. A tear trails across the apple of your cheek, overlapping the sheened tracks of the ones that fell before it.

“You want that, right, baby?” He asks, lifting his hand to wipe the evidence of your impatience away. “Hm? Want me stuffing you so full you’ll feel it in the morning?”

“Yes,” you breathe with choked desperation.

“That’s what I thought,” he patronizes, shoving his tear-basted thumb past the seam of your lips to let the savory flavor settle over your tongue. “C’mere.”

He takes you by the shoulders and flips you over onto your stomach, trapping your arms between your body and the mattress. Your cheek presses into the musty piece of furniture, lips pursing with the pressure on your face. Edward grabs your hips and hikes them up into the air, forcing your back to arch as he situates you on your knees.

You maneuver your head to try and get a decent glance over your shoulder at what he’s doing, humming to himself as he takes his sweet time perusing your body. In the low light, he admires you, running his hands over the round globes of your ass, squeezing every once in a while as they drop and then drag back up. He dips his head lower to catch a glimpse of your glittering hole, soaked with your lust and pulsing with just the thought of him filling you up.

“Would you look at that?” He whispers in the tense air.

Edward reaches over to the nightstand, scooping up the camcorder so he can invite the chat to enjoy a look at you.

“Isn’t she just perfect?” He remarks wistfully as he glides a thumb through your lips. “All throbbing and aching for me. Just a hole waiting to be used.”

You huff and wiggle your hips, pushing back to try and find even an ounce of relief. At your jittery signs, Edward sinks his thumb past your lax wet muscle and your breath catches in your throat with the familiar sensation.

“Please, baby, want you so bad.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue. “Only patient girls get rewarded,”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll be good,” you pant out. “I’ll be patient, I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.” He draws his hand from the small of your back up between your shoulder blades, repeating the motion once, twice before pressing his hand into the side of your head and pressing it deep into the bed, nearly suffocating you. “I know you will, baby.”

He places the camera back on the nightstand, letting it clatter down before gripping the base of his cock and moving it to run the head through your slick folds, coating it in your creamy release. You mewl but try to keep still, burying your face into the mattress to muffle your disobedient noises. He takes note of your compliance and, to reward you, pushes past your entrance slowly, more so to get his dick wet before cumming rather than to be mindful of the ache that burns between your legs. A pitched gasp escapes your throat at finally having your request satisfied and your eyes flutter shut with the stretch of him against your walls.

“My God, this cunt was made for me,” he sighs, sinking deeper. “So wet and warm and fucking tight.”

With his cock sheathed to the very base, he stills before drawing his hips back and pulling nearly all the way out before slamming them forward in a violent rut, his dick reaching the far recesses within you and causing you to jolt forward on the bed.

“Gonna ruin this pussy, make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

He picks up his pace, his movements quick but his thrusts holding their same fervor. He’s hitting hard and fast and deep and all thoughts escape your mind as he abuses your hole. The squelching and slapping of skin on skin fills the room and reverberates off of the walls, his deep groans and grunts melding with your desperate moans and mewls into a hot soup of unabashed wantonness.

Suddenly, the hot crack of Edward’s palm against your ass rings within your ears before you actually feel it and as the sting begins to fester with a burn as you cry out, the pained sound dissolving into a moan.

“You like that, you little slut? You like when I hit you, punish you for being so dirty?”

You nod your head, cheek burning from the chafing friction of the sheets but your nonverbal response is cut short as he smacks you again, much harder than the first time.

“Words,” he demands.

“Yes!” You yelp. “Love it when you put me in my place!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he chuckles, though there's no humor behind it. “Take this fucking cock, fuck it like the filthy whore you are.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re gasping out in between tormenting thrusts, so close to finishing but before you can reach the blinding light at the end of the tunnel he’s pulling out and you want to cry, your tear ducts stinging with the loss as a shameful whine passes your lips, almost like a sob.

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothes. “Just wanna see your tits while I fuck you.”

He flips your pliable body over once more so you’re lying on your back, head lolling, your brain dazed and vacant.

He guides his cock, the head brushing against your glistening clit. Despite having just been inside of you, the touch shocks you, thighs tightening before he delves back in, his technique now far more brutal than before, if even possible. Your bound wrists lay between the valley of your breasts, the mounds bouncing along your chest with the force of each of his savage, pistoning thrusts.

He grips your legs by the thighs and glides his hands up to the crooks of your knees, leaning forward to press your quads up against your stomach, folding you to breed a pleasurable stretch. With your legs spread out of the way and him relentlessly pounding into you, he’s reaching an untapped patch of nerves within you, the head of his cock tapping deeper and harder with each pull and push of his hips. You cry out at how incredible it feels, each thrust sending you closer to the edge and setting fireworks off behind your retinas. The pleasure feels too good to contain, you shut your eyes and indulge in his vicious pace, relishing in the rock of your body in tandem with his.

Before you can get too caught up in feeling yourself, his hand finds your jaw, wrenching your face forward. The latex of his gloves squeaks as he tightens his hold and digs his fingers into the plush flesh of your cheeks.

He growls out a ‘look at me’ and you force your eyes to lazily flutter open, labored breaths puffing out past your pursed lips.

With your attention on him, he leans in and berates you, “Look at you, all spread out like a desperate little whore, all for me.”

You whine and writhe as he continues his bullying.

“That’s right, hmm? Just a dumb fucking slut that loves my cock?”

As he says this, he shoves his hips forward and causes your breath to stutter. His cock feels like it's clogging your throat with how deep it reaches and you do your best to answer his question, nodding your head against his resolute grip.

“Say it,” he pushes, gritting through his mask and teeth. “Tell them how much you love how I fuck you.”

You keen as his pace refuses to wither, your brain malfunctioning at just the prospect of answering his simple question. His hand readjusts and lowers so that it’s near to entrapping itself around your throat.

“C’mon, baby, tell them how much you love being used,” he chides, impatient. “We don’t have all day.”

With a particularly rough thrust of Edward’s hips and the euphoric feeling brought on by his hand constricting your airway, the tears that once gathered along your waterline fall over your cheeks as you cry out in a gasped sob.

“Mmm! Yes! I lo-ove it!” You hiccup. “I love how you use me! Love how you show me off!”

He laughs, and drags his hand down from your neck to grope your breast with an ungentle grip, squeezing one more time before lifting his hand to cradle your cheek, thumb pushing your tears away only to smear the wetness across your temple.

“I know, puppy,” he stutters out, very obviously near his end. “You’ve been so good for me and the viewers, I think she deserves a reward, don’t you agree?”

The chat floods with responses of consensus, each anonymous hermit behind a computer screen or otherwise hoping to indulge in the sight of you unraveling beneath who they knew to be their leader, their God.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby, go ahead and cum for me, wanna feel you choke my cock.”

You do as you're told, the pressure building up to a rolling boil as your body seizes and stutters with the feel of him inside you drawing you to your blinding end, crying out to the four walls as your back curls off of the bed. As your pussy throbs and convulses in spasms around Edward’s cock, he groans thickly and keels over you, catching himself on his hand as his hips stammer and start to become erratic. He releases a whiny, pitched moan when you feel his hot load spurt into you, the warmth of it heating you from the inside out as you sigh into the mattress.

You’re both panting like wild dogs caught in a heat wave, attempting to regain your lost breath. He slumps over you, the heat of his exhales clouding the saran wrap behind his glasses and mask. After a moment of calm, he leans back and pulls his softening dick out, his release crawling out of your hole and dripping onto the wrinkled and bunched up sheets. He grabs the camera and angles it to display your still convulsing hole.

“Isn’t that a sight?” he wonders aloud, muttering beneath his shallow breath.

He tuts and pushes two fingers into your cunt, gathering what spills over your asshole so he can push it back in. The breach causes you to shiver with overstimulation before relaxing back against the pillows. He takes his cum-laden fingers and reaches them towards your open mouth, bringing the camera along so it only shows your lips and chin.

“Suck,” he commands.

You lean up and take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits and moaning against the bitter taste of your combined juices.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises as he pulls his fingers away.

You fall back against the few pillows beneath you, your eyelids starting to grow heavy as your head lulls against the cushions. Edward turns the camera towards him, holding the lens much too close to his face as he thanks the audience and ends the live, placing the camcorder back on the nightstand and shutting the laptop with a gentle click.

He begins undoing his getup; putting his glasses aside, pulling the mask over his head, and tossing it to the floor before unfurling the near-suffocating wrap from his head. With his features uninhibited, he places his glasses back on and starts consciously climbing over your body.

“You did so good for me,” he whispers against the skin of your neck, nuzzling his face there before slithering his arms under your back and squishing you against him. “I’m sure everyone loved you.”

You giggle at his needy, cat-like affections, “Baby, I wanna touch you.”

“Oh, right! Let me get that for you.”

He unties the jersey cloth from your wrists and tosses the scrap piece of fabric across the room. Edward runs his thumbs back and forth over the tender indentation that runs along your wrists, soothing the skin with his warm touch and the sympathetic press of his lips. Once he’s finished, you wind your arms around his neck and reach to thread your fingers into his russet locks, scratching close to the nape and behind his ears. He smiles that goofy grin down at you and despite the effort it takes, you lean up to kiss him.

“God, I miss doing that when you wear your mask,” you sigh as you separate, uncurling his strands from your fingers to rest your hand against his cheek.

“Me too,” he assures you, turning to kiss the wrinkled palm of your hand. “But we can’t have the GPD finding us out can we?”

“Nope,” you say with a disconcerting smile. “But it’s a good thing that when the cameras are off, I get you all to myself.”

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jeromevalecka · 1 year

Text

୨ first date with Edward Nashton ୧

(gn reader)

- he is DRIPPING in sweat, this man is so nervous. partially because he's never actually went on a date before, dating and meeting someone is very new to him. and of course if it's going on a date with you its even more nerve racking for him, since he wants to make it one of the best dates ever ofc!

- For first times u both settled on the idea of eating at a restaurant, it was just a tiny diner in one of the streets of Gotham. You told Edward you would be done around 6 pm. He usually visited u with the subway and did so this time as well. He was there knocking at ur door precisely at 5:59 pm.

- He stood there awkwardly fiddling with his hands, pacing back and forth a bit on his heels as well. His heart was almost beating out of his chest. You then opened the door, smiling brightly at him n telling him he can come in for a little.

- You finish off by putting on your shoes and getting your belongings. Once again Edward stood there pacing back and forth a little. You could obviously tell he was nervous, but as to not make him uncomfortable u pretended to ignore it. "You all set Ed?" He flinches a bit, lost in thought. "Y-Yea! sorry-" you smile at him and make a walk for the door.

- After taking the subway together talking abt recent Batman sightings, since u both have that interest in common. A bit of walking and more talking, you arrive at the restaurant. Edward quickly opened the door for you making you chuckle at him. "Thank you sir~" you say and he chuckles a little as well.

- A woman got u two seated and u ordered some drinks. She hands u a menu n smiles. "Have u been here before Ed?" You ask looking over at him from above the menu card. "Hmm...no I havent, but I've seen this place while walking over to work, thought it looked good" he smiles. "Well I'm excited to see if it indeed is good" you smile back. After a while u guys ordered and chatted for a bit again. Edward looked at u with admiration in his eyes. It was obvious he had been interested in u for a while, the guy snuck around at work always trying to find a way to be around you. Thinking nothing weird of it u asked if u could eat lunch with him someday and found out how amazing he actually is and how many things u have in common together!

- You both ate ur food, while chatting and laughing. The evening sky quickly settled down into night sky, time had flown by. Edward decides to take u back to ur home to make sure ur safe. At the door you smile at him and thank him for the lovely evening. He smiles and gets a bit of a red tint on his cheeks. You give him a little kiss on the cheek and wish him goodnight, closing the door in front of him.

- He stood there for a little, trying to collect himself. You had kissed him on the cheek??!! He thought to himself how he got so lucky. That cheek is now not being washed lolol.

✂﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

thank you so much for reading !

riddler and paul dano have been my hyper fixation since last year april n if sadly never wrote something publicly for the riddle man but expect me to do so more often now ♡

! reqs r open ⊹

#edward nashton x reader #edward nashton #paul dano #dano riddler #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #danonation #danonator #the riddler #dc comics #dc #the batman

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writingsofmax · 1 year

Text

Home For Christmas

Words: 3.7 K

Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, character exploration, christmas

author's note: I was sitting alone, super late on Christmas night, feeling weird about the holidays when I decided to write this. This is an Edward x reader fic but it's also an exploration of his character. I was thinking about what Edward's experience with Christmas might have been throughout different times of his life, and how he would realistically handle it as an adult. If you're someone that finds the holidays difficult and maybe doesn't even like Christmas, then this one goes out to you. <3

Christmas.

Every year it was excruciating. The holiday had been brutal at the orphanage. Back when the orphanage was still functioning, he had been too young to participate or even remember the festivities. By the time he was old enough, the funding had run out.

The staff would put up some dusty decorations that were falling apart on one designated Christmas wall for a couple days. The children would rehearse their hymns and songs for the public. They would each get one present that was the same as everyone else’s. It was usually a pair of mittens or a spiral notebook. And then they would go to bed hungry and freezing cold. The single television they had would project images of children spending Christmas at loving homes. Their living room floors hidden under the copious amounts of presents they received. Smiles big and warm on their faces as they lifted the steaming mug of hot cocoa to their lips. They would sit on the floor and watch those displays of what the holidays should be like before a staff member would come in and turn the TV off, sending them all to their cots and threadbare blankets for the night.

One year Thomas Wayne came to the orphanage during Christmas. And he talked to Edward! Imagine that! Told him he mattered. That he would do well in this world.

What a joke.

He had been too young to understand then, but he had just been a political pawn. As an adult he knew that Mr. Wayne had most likely been told to say nice things to the poor orphans so he could look good on TV. But as a child he had taken it very seriously. He had gotten his hopes up just to be beaten down soon after. That had been one of his earliest Christmas memories.

Once he was old enough to go to a public school outside of the orphanage it was almost worse.

“What did you get this year?” The inevitable question would come.

“Nothing.” Edward would always reply.

Like every year.

But he wanted to say “Lies. False promises. Emptiness.”

Sleepless cold nights. Forced pageantry so everyone else could enjoy the stupid holiday. Those Christmas songs and hymns were burned into his memory whether he liked it or not.

In college it wasn’t much better. Everyone would talk about how excited they were for winter break. Looking forward to seeing family, friends and pets that they were missing. Hearing everyone in passing idly chatting about the homes they were going back to. Even out of the orphanage he couldn’t escape the fact that he was unwanted. That there was no home for him to go back to and that there never would be.

He would stay on campus of course, the halls barren, and walk around like a ghost. No classes to distract him from the echoes of his past. No swell of bodies in the hall to disappear into and be a part of.

It was just him and the inner knowledge that he wasn’t wanted, that he had no one, and that it was somehow his fault. Those late nights on campus he would find himself walking outside alone a lot. He would spend late nights trudging through the snow, hoping the chill would distract him from the screaming in his mind.

As an adult, holiday parties at work were just another societal ritual that he didn’t understand. Secret Santas were like his own personal hell. No one wanted to get Eddie for theirs. No one knew what to get him because he, “Didn’t talk much!” His reactions to opening the things he got were never acceptable enough. He was either overly cheerful or came off as rude. It’s like he couldn’t choose the right emotions that people wanted to see.

No one ever liked the gifts he gave either. A gift certificate to a diner that the recipient thought was gross. A plain office spiral notebook that wasn’t enough for Christmas, even though as a child that’s usually what he had gotten. A small book of riddles that they frowned upon opening and asked, “Isn’t this stuff for kids?”

“Happy Holidays”

No one wants me.

“Merry Christmas!”

There is something deeply wrong with me.

“Have a happy new year!”

I am never going to fit in in this world.

For Edward, it never got easier. His routine was always to try and avoid the holidays as much as possible. All of these reasons and more were why, when you asked him if he wanted to spend the holiday with you this year, he didn’t know what to say.

He froze and you immediately said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to! I don’t mean to impose!”

Because he looked deeply uncomfortable when you asked. He grimaced and looked out the diner window, now cloudy with frost on the glass. Turning his attention back to you, he picked up his coffee cup and swirled the dregs around contemplatively.

“It’s fine... It’s just that I don’t…. like… the holidays,” he answered slowly, as if even thinking about it was painful.

You frowned. You knew that Eddie had been an orphan, maybe it had been insensitive of you to ask.

“Oh.. That’s okay! Um. I was just asking because I’m not going home this year, so I just thought…” you trailed off seeing that same pained expression appear on his face again.

“Home..” he answered before taking the last sip of his coffee. He didn’t finish his thought.

You were definitely puzzled. You had been with Eddie for almost a year now, and hadn’t ever seen him be this quiet. You knew he wasn’t the most forthcoming about personal matters, but this was different. He hadn’t even told you a riddle or a pun today.

“My family is going on a trip this year and I couldn’t take that much time off work, so I have four days to fill by myself,” you explained, not sure if he was listening or not, “and I like spending time with you so…”

Eddie smiled weakly at your last comment.

“I like spending time with you too,” he answered quietly.

The waitress came to your table and refilled both of your mugs while you sat in silence.

“Eddie? Are you okay?”

He looked up at you over his coffee apologetically.

“Yes, sorry.. Just tired,” he mumbled as he stirred sugar into his coffee.

You reached across the table and held his hand, rubbing your thumb over his.

“I love you, okay? If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine, but just know that I am here for you.”

It hurt to see him like this, you wished you knew what was wrong. Edward squeezed your hand, and peered up at you from under his glasses. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment before speaking.

“I know… I’m sorry. It’s just that I never did the whole… holiday thing. And I’m not good at it. I’m not good at giving presents or… being cheerful or any of the requirements,” he lifted his coffee with his free hand and took a sip before continuing, “I don’t know if you would want to spend the holidays with me.”

He didn’t look at you as he spoke, he just kept his eyes trained on the window the whole time, studying patterns in the frost.

“I definitely do want to,” you insisted, “You don’t have to be any certain way for me.” Edward stopped studying the window, and turned back to you, a blush creeping up his neck. “Oh. Um. Then yeah, we should definitely… spend it together, if that’s what you want..” He trailed off awkwardly, pushing his glasses back up his nose. That was a good enough answer for you. After the two of you finished your drinks, you flagged down the waitress to bring you the check. You paid the fee at the register and as the two of you were leaving, she called out behind you, “Have a Merry Christmas!” You called back, “Thanks, you too!”

Edward frowned and shrunk down inside of his coat a little. You decided to go to his place that night because it was closer, and it was cold. As you walked the snowy streets, the Christmas lights in the trees shone down beautifully, reflecting off the icy patches. “I love the lights this time of year.. Aren’t they so pretty?” you asked.

“Um.. Yes.” Edward answered rigidly, glancing up at them for a second before continuing to look forward.

“So what do you wanna do over Christmas break?” You asked, excited to be spending it with him.

“I don’t know,” he answered tonelessly, his eyes narrowing. “Um. Whatever you want to do I guess,” he added on quickly, offering you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Are you sure it's okay I’m spending it with you?” You asked, “You seem a little…”

Edward looked at you, waiting for you to finish your sentence.

“Upset.” You finished.

“Oh. Sorry.” He answered simply. The two of you trudged on in silence after that, since he didn’t seem to be in the mood to talk. After a while, Edward noticed that you were frowning at the ground while you walked, so he gathered up the courage to try to explain his feelings. He wasn’t trying to upset you, but seemed to be failing miserably at it. “Well, If I’m being honest….” he started, his grip tightening on yours, “The holidays were always a bad time for me…. And this season brings back a lot of memories I would rather not think about. It kind of distracts me I guess.” He pulled his key from his coat pocket and unlocked his door, letting you out of the cold and into the apartment building. As you walked up the dingy stairway, your stomach twisted. He was really down, and he clearly really disliked the holidays. You deeply regretted the tin of sugar cookies and hot chocolate mix you had shoved in your purse before going out to meet him at the diner. Once your coats were off and you were both safely enclosed in the warm confines of Edward’s apartment, you followed him into the living room. “Let’s watch some movies!” You suggested, wanting to hopefully take his mind off of it. Edward’s chest tightened as he guessed what was coming, you were going to ask to watch holiday movies, and then he would agree, and it would put him in a terrible mood. “Wanna watch the SAW movies?” you asked, inspecting his rack of DVDs. “You must really like them if you have all of them here.” He brightened at that. “Oh! Yeah, definitely!” he agreed, smiling at you for the first time that day. Once the movie was in and started, you snuggled up to Eddie on the couch, laying your head on his chest and shoulder as he wrapped his arm around you. You felt him kiss the top of your head as the movie started. You thought the movie was a little gruesome, but it seemed to relax Eddie a lot, and that was all that mattered. Plus, you could hide your face in his chest and snuggle up to him more whenever you got scared, which both of you liked. At the end of the second movie, you were getting hungry. You got up to go rummage in the kitchen for something to eat.

“What do you have for snacks, Eddie?” You asked as you made your way past him on the couch.

“I’m pretty sure I have popcorn and—” He stopped as you tripped over your purse that you had left lying on the floor, catching your arm as you tilted forward. “Careful!” he cautioned, “Are you alright?” He asked, reaching down to pick up your purse, and what had spilled out of it.

“Yeah I’m alright.” You answered bashfully.

“What is this?” He asked curiously, holding up the tin decorated with a snowflake pattern.

“Oh…. Those are…” You sighed, praying that this wouldn’t bring his mood back down, “I made you sugar cookies and brought you some hot chocolate mix… for um.. Christmas..”

Edward’s eyes widened. He looked at you, and then looked at the tin, before looking back at you, “Really?”

“Yeah…” you mumbled, feeling very foolish knowing how he felt about the holidays now, “But you don’t have to accept them or anything if you…” you trailed off as you saw Edward opening the box, pulling one out and smelling it.

“I actually have always wanted to try one of these… You made these?” He asked again, digging through the box.

“Yeah!” you answered, relieved that he actually seemed happy about it.

“For me?” He asked, incredulously.

“Yes.”

“So I can have one?” He asked again, his brows furrowed, as he held a cookie in front of him, inspecting it closely.

You laughed, “Yes. They are for you.”

You spent the rest of the evening snacking on popcorn and cookies with Edward while watching the rest of the movies. He almost didn’t want to eat them at all, but knew he couldn’t save them forever. It was the first time anyone had given him a gift that they hadn’t been obligated to. The gift hadn’t just been some thoughtless cheap thing either, it was something that you had worked on and made specifically for him to enjoy.

He pulled your face to his and kissed you softly, before pulling the blankets over both of you and settling in to watch the last movie.

Once the SAW marathon was over, you dug in your purse for your phone to see if anyone had contacted you. After not finding it, your stomach sank, and you realized that you left your cellphone at your apartment. If your family couldn’t get a hold of you on Christmas tomorrow, they were going to freak out. You were so apologetic about having to go back over there so late but Edward didn’t care. He was more of a night owl anyway.

Edward packed some overnight clothes so the two of you could just stay at your place after you got there since it was so late and you were tired.

Once at your apartment, you flicked the lights on and quickly shrugged off your coat and purse. You prayed that your phone was actually there, and not buried in the snow outside somewhere. You let out a major sigh of relief when you found your phone, plugged in by your bed.

“I found it!” You called out to Eddie, but didn't get a reply.

You walked back out into your living room to find Edward sitting on the couch, his gaze focused on the small Christmas tree in your apartment corner. You had gotten it a few days earlier at a second hand store. It was a scraggly, cheap plastic mini tree that you had grabbed for 3 bucks. It came with some lights already on it. You had gotten it in a small attempt to bring some life into your dreary apartment, but it hadn’t really worked. Unfortunately, you had completely forgotten about it before bringing him over here. “I found my phone!” you said again. “Thankfully it was here.” “Oh!” Edward answered, looking at you and smiling, “Good!” “Are you tired yet?” you asked, feeling more awake than you had before. Going back outside into the cold had woken you up a bit. “Not really,” Edward answered, his gaze back on the tree. “I can put another movie on? Pick one out that you like and we can watch it!” You suggested, internally cursing yourself for bringing him here. Edward nodded, seeming to like your idea. You watched as he crouched down in front of your movie shelf, eyes scanning the titles. You left him to it, going into your kitchen to get something to drink. When you came back, he was still in the same spot, but looking at your tree again. He looked very sad, and lost in thought. Damn it. You really wished you hadn’t put that decoration up. “Did you find anything you want to watch?” you asked, and he stiffened, your words bringing him back to the present. “Ummm…. Yeah!” He answered, scanning down the titles again before pulling one out from the row with his index finger. You took it from him. “The Thing, huh?” you commented, before putting it in the player. “A good choice! Haven’t seen this one in awhile.” The two of you settled onto your couch as you watched the movie. You were fully engrossed in the story, but you noticed that Edward was fidgety. He didn’t put his arms around you and picked at the blanket absent-mindedly. He watched the movie with you but you noticed he kept looking at your tree. After a while, every time you peeked over at him, you would find him staring at it, his eyes glazed over. He stopped picking at the blanket and started picking at his fingers. You reached over and took his hand in yours, rubbing circles into the back of his palm with your fingers. “This part is really scary,” you murmured as an explanation.

That seemed to soothe him for a while, but soon enough, he was back to looking at it, his hand gripping yours tighter and tighter.

You let go of his hand and got up from the couch, making your way over to the tree. He watched you curiously. “Everything okay?” he asked from his spot on the couch, his curious nature activated at your sudden movements. “Yeah.” You said, shoving up on the bottom of the window pane. “I’m fine.” “What are you doing?” He asked, getting up off the couch. The window seemed to be frozen shut and you struggled with it. “I’m trying to open this window, it’s really hot in here. Could you help me?” you asked, standing to the side to let him try. “Of course, Angel.” With a hard shove from Eddie, the window broke free of its icy confines and opened. Ice cold Gotham air blew into your apartment, causing you to shiver. “Thank you.” You said, matter of factly. Then without any explanation you reached down and unplugged your Christmas tree. “Um, what–” Edward started. And then you tossed it out the window. Both of you watched it fall to the snowy ground several stories beneath your apartment. “WHAT!” Eddie exclaimed, “Why did you just???” He looked at you wide eyed, completely bewildered. “I could see it was bothering you. And anyway, it was ugly.” Edward leaned out of the window, looking down at the offending tree before pulling himself back in, shutting the window, and turning to you. “You didn’t have to do that!” He exclaimed. Edward’s genuine shock at your actions was hilarious to you. You covered your face with your hands, trying to stifle your giggles but it was of no use. You burst out laughing. Then you heard it. A high pitched giggle. You opened your eyes to find Edward laughing too. The two of you carried on like that for a few minutes, each of you laughing so much that it was hard to breathe at times. By the time the two of you had finally settled down, the movie was almost over.

Edward sighed, wiping a tear away from under his glasses, “That’s alright, we should probably go to bed anyway since it's so late. We can watch it tomorrow.”

You put your hands on either side of Eddie’s face, and kissed him warmly, running your hands through his hair. He kissed you back passionately, his hands pulling your waist towards him. The two of you did not go to sleep until much later.

Edward woke up on Christmas Day with you in his arms. Surprisingly his mind wasn’t filled with dread at the thought of yet another Christmas to get through. He had you there, curled into him, and he felt at peace. He was at home with you. The two of you spent the morning sleepily making coffee, watching movies together and talking. Around noon, you decided to go pick up some Chinese food for lunch and to also get out of the apartment for a little bit. The idea of completely ignoring Christmas had become somewhat of an inside joke between the two of you, after you had thrown your tree out the window. “Really weird that there’s barely any restaurants open today, can’t imagine why.” You commented, in your best sincere voice. Edward giggled, “Yes it is quite strange. And all of these lights everywhere too. Perhaps it's some sort of cult?” You continued to look serious as you thought of what to say next. “What is that?” Edward asked, gesturing to something in the snow. You looked and it was your Christmas tree decoration, still lying on the sidewalk, completely ruined. Both of you erupted in laughter. A while later, you were on the way back to your apartment, both of you carrying copious amounts of Chinese food, when Edward stopped to ask you a question. “Um.. Do you want…” he looked to the side, his cheeks tinged pink from the cold, “Do you want to do anything…. Christmas-sy? Like.. I don’t know.. I could go buy you a present or something and you could open it.” Edward squeezed the bags of take out to his chest a little tighter when he asked. As uncomfortable as it was, he didn’t want you to miss out on things you might want to do because of his hang-ups. You smiled warmly at him and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Nope! Spending time with you today is more than enough. I love being with you. Honestly, this is the most fun I’ve had in years.” You adjusted the weight of the bag on your arm before continuing, “Anyway, let's get home, I’m hungry!”

Edward smiled, the tightness in his chest melting away. He followed after you, the two of you making the only footprints on the sidewalk as you made your way back home.

I am wanted. I am needed. I am at home right here with you.

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lost-in-sokovia · 1 year

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Sure we’ve seen give Eddie a Christmas experience but giving him a good thanksgiving meal????? Saying you’re grateful to have him in your life? Man’s sobbing into his turkey and stuffing

pumpkin pie

warnings: fluff with no plot :)

edward nashton had essentially zero memories of a home-cooked thanksgiving meal.

one year at the orphanage a charity group had provided them with a somewhat warm meal, but eddie had of course sat alone in a dark corner, passing on the generosity of the season by sharing part of his dense dinner roll with the rats that peeked out of the cracks in the walls. every other year was just what small meal the orphanage could provide, and in his adult years it was eating alone at the diner.

it was your first thanksgiving with edward. you had decided the two of you would make a turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, peas, and eddie’s favorite, pumpkin pie. initially, edward was a bit anxious about the idea of spending all day cooking in his small kitchen; when you had turned on soft 40’s music and kissed his cheek every time you passed him, however, it was suddenly his favorite environment.

you had opened up one of his windows to exchange the hot air from cooking with the cool november breeze. it was a cloudy day in gotham and the streets were practically empty, everyone going about thanksgiving activities with their families. you and eddie were as happy as you could be together in his tiny kitchen, the two of you constantly in fits of giggles every time you would bump into each other or make a small mess.

“eddie baby, you’re going to have more potatoes on your apron than in the bowl,” you laughed. your boyfriend looked down at his leaf-patterned you had brought for him and smiled, turning slightly pink.

“s-sorry,” he chuckled sheepishly. you kissed his nose and grinned.

“don’t sweat it, i’m just playing with you,” you reassured sweetly. you turned back to your bowl full of pumpkin for the pie as the oven beeped.

“oh, i got it!” eddie piped up. he quickly opened the oven and his glasses immediately fogged over from the rush of hot air. he carefully lifted the heavy turkey out with pot holders and placed it on the counter. you sat your bowl back down and stood beside edward, inspecting the turkey.

“look at us,” you admired out loud. “we made our first turkey together.” something in edward’s heart warmed as you laid your head on his shoulder. your first turkey together, hinting that there would be more to come in the years forward. he was absolutely enamored. he didn’t know anything like this, and in his small little apartment there was just so much love surrounding him. you glanced at him and saw his glossy eyes from behind his glasses. you kissed his cheek and ran your hands through his soft hair.

“come on, baby. let’s finish things up.”

——

you sat across from him at his small table, set with your quaint little meal. there was a candle in the center of the table and all of his lights were dimmed and merely gave off a warm glow that complimented the candle. edward’s green eyes scanned over the table in awe and excitement. your heart warmed.

“you can start, eddie,” you said gently. edward’s first move was to immediately grab a slice of pumpkin pie and you giggled. you slowly began to fill your plate as well, your eyes never leaving your elated boyfriend. “hey,” you started. you placed your hand on his and locked eyes with him. “i love you. i’m so grateful to have you here with me.”

edward’s eyes filled with tears as he smiled sadly, one of the tears quickly escaping. “i-i love you too… thank you…” he choked out quietly. you grinned and squeezed his hand, hoping he knew how much you meant it.

“tell me how the pumpkin pie is, okay?” you winked as you let go of his hand. eddie nodded and quickly shoved a small bite into his mouth. his green eyes lit up and his pupils practically dilated as he held back a smile.

“it’s really good,” he mumbled through a full mouth. you giggled.

happy thanksgiving, eddie baby.

#edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #edward nashton #dano!riddler #the riddler #the riddler x you #the riddler x y/n #the riddler x reader #the batman 2022 #paul dano x reader #paul dano fanfiction #paul dano fanfic #paul dano

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finniestoncrane · 2 years

Text

There's Fire In Your Belly

Chapter 2

Percy Dolarhyde x Female!Reader, word count: 2k chapter 1 here and chapter 3 here yeeeeeeeehaw more of this slimy little asshole who i am in love with, not in spite of his bad attitude, but because of it. request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: language, misogyny, marking, ropes, guns, violence, voyeurism, forceful behaviour, spanking, bondage, possessiveness, mean cowboys with bad attitudes

For the first week of your time on the ranch, Percy had made it his business to make your life a living misery, tempting you at every opportunity he got. Your anger rose and fell in painful waves, every minute you spent with him sending hatred and heat surging through your body. Blessedly, you were around him so infrequently that it wasn’t too hard to manage, but every second of time you spent in his presence was filled with humiliating and degrading tasks.

While general maintenance and some cleaning for upkeep were part of your routine, Percy seemed to create filth for you to tidy up, and would stand watching you clean it with a smug, self-satisfied grin. On more than one occasion he had tripped you on your way out of the milking shed, causing you to spill your buckets, landing you in the ensuing mud, and meaning you were getting reduced wages for that day. But you took his punishments in your stride. Something inside you knew that if you reacted to him, either screaming, crying or shooting at him, he’d be pretty pleased with himself. If you ignored him, he might get angry enough to just fire you or to leave you alone. You were reaching the end of your tether though.

Just the night before, you had made your way to the main house to collect your pitiful and cut back wage from one of the Dolarhyde’s workers, when Percy whistled for you to come into the dining room. Not wanting to appear to be ignorant to your boss’ wishes, you entered with a straight face. He sat in one of the wooden chairs, leaning back on two legs, his feet resting rudely on the long, beautiful table. He nodded his head towards his boots.

“Take them off for me, please.”

“You have to be kiddin’, right?”

“I never kid, darlin’. Take. Them. Off.” He leaned forward, settling the chair onto all four legs, watching you with raised eyebrows. “I’m getting impatient, missy.”

Swallowing your pride, or what little was left of it after a solid week of being degraded at every turn by this monster of nepotism, you walked over to Percy and took off one of his boots for him, settling it down on the floor by the fireplace. You moved to take the other off, and when you looked back up, you noticed he was wiggling his toes, grimy, holey socks resting on the table now, worse than the dirt clad boots. He leaned back in his chair again, swinging gently as he gazed at your form, derisive and yet appreciative.

“You wanna give ‘em a little rub, darlin’? They get awfully sore.”

“From sittin’ on your ass all day? What a miracle.”

His face contorted into a sneer as he spoke.

“Now you listen here-”

Emboldened by the act of humiliation, certain that none of the other staff were within ear shot and that Percy might not dare be shown up by being manhandled by a woman, you grabbed at his ascot and tugged him towards you, the chair legs slamming loudly on the wooden floor.

“No, you listen. I am sick of you, Percy Dolarhyde.” You spat his name out through gritted teeth, flecks of saliva landing on his cheek, the distance between you closed. He looked nervous, scared even. His mouth was in a slight frown, eyes bulging, cheeks flushing in a light pink. It only served to spur you on. “You are right about me. I am not the kind of woman that you want to fuck with. You’ll do well to remember that. You might be the boss’ son, but that’s all you are. You don’t tell me what to do, you don’t touch me. I will end you.”

You stepped back, smoothing down your shirt, watching him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing lightly in his throat.

“Now. Is there anything else you need of me, Mister Dolarhyde, or can I leave?”

“Get out.” His mouth barely opened as he spoke, meek and hushed. With no further permission needed, or asked for, you left the room and exited the house, heading back to your tent to try and sleep. Though it didn’t come easily. Tossing and turning all night, you wondered if you had done the right thing. It was important to nip the behaviour in the bud, yes. But it was at a risk to your new life, everything you had wanted for so long. It was the right thing to do, it was justified. And yet, it felt self-serving too, how nice it was to make him cower under you, hear him whine, almost whispered, as you exerted a dominance over him he didn’t expect. Relishing the feeling, you finally managed to fall asleep with a smile on your face, ready to face your second week on the ranch in the morning, hopeful that the new week would be better than the last.

But what kind of world would that be? A fair one. And that wasn’t the world you had known up to this point in your life. In the morning, after a quick breakfast and dunking your face in the wash basin by the camp fire, you noticed the other ranch hands were gathered near the training pen. As you approached them, you noticed Percy was among them, lasso in hand, attempting to show off his prowess, which was non-existent from the brief examples you were seeing now. One of the older horses was trotting around, and Percy was failing to loop the rope around it every try. You hopped up onto the fence to get a better look at him, laughing loud enough at his miserable attempts that he noticed you.

Percy shot a glance at you, anger simmering behind it, and you made no effort to conceal your glee at his misery.

“You think you can do a better job?” He yelled over the chuckling from the ranch hands. “Come on then, prove you’re any better than me.”

Without speaking, you swung your legs over the fence and joined him in the pen. You knew with all confidence that you would show him up, and you gathered the rope from your belt and swiftly lassoed the horse as it passed the furthest point from you. As the ranch hands cheered, you turned to see Percy, hands balled into fists. He took a few steps forward and held the rope over his head, swinging it at you and, for the first time that day, meeting his target.

Before you had time to react, he yanked at the rope, pulling you forward and sending you splaying into the dirt. No one else laughed, which meant you could hear Percy’s loud and clearly. The others were walking away, finally finding the enthusiasm to get back to work. You attempted to stand up, but Percy tugged on the rope again, your body falling flat into the ground, chin hitting the dirt.

“Aw.” Percy stepped towards you, standing over you, inches away from you. He nudged your side with one of his boots. “Get up.”

You stood, finally unhindered by his childish actions, and stepped out of the loosened rope. Without looking at him, you stomped past his body, trying to ignore his giggling as you headed to the house in search of one of the ranch hands wives.

Inside, you found someone in the kitchen, you didn’t know her name and didn’t care to. But she was sweet, and offered to patch up the hole in your pants. As you sat, she mentioned that she had noticed Percy had taken a shine to you, hushing herself when she saw the look of distaste you gave her. The last thing she said as you left, muttering only a thanks to her, was that your actions were surely only leading him on. She warned it would end in misery. Good, you hoped. Misery was all he deserved. You wondered briefly how often the other women spoke of you, what gossip they might share surrounding you and your past, the work you chose to do, the way that Percy Dolarhyde had singled you out. Trying not to let it fill your mind and heart with worry, you focused all of your attention on your work for the rest of the day. So focused that you barely noticed when the sun had gone down, leaving you in the barns in the dark.

On your return to the camp, you noticed there was an extra person by the fire. And from the obnoxious cackling, you could tell it was Percy. You approached slowly, hoping to be able to sneak to your tent without anyone noticing you, drawing you in and forcing you to endure the torture of Percy’s existence more than you needed to. The closer you got though, the more you could hear, and it wasn’t something you could ignore.

“Give me time, I’m sure I can convince her to let me get a little sweetness from her. I’ve got her under my finger, she works for my pa, so she works for me. If she wants to keep this job, she’ll do as I say, regardless of what that is.”

You wondered which poor soul Percy was planning on pitching his unique brand of woo at, listening in longer in hopes of finding out, maybe you could warn her at least.

“I mean, I already told her as much. She’s as good as mine. You should have seen her the other day, I had her takin’ off my boots, won’t be long before I have her takin’ off my pants too, and hers finally. I mean, would it kill her to wear a skirt sometime?”

Approaching him from behind, rage behind every footstep, inspired by the very notion that Percy god damn Dolarhyde would think you could ever be under his thumb, or under his body. You knocked the hat of his head with a swipe and stood back, ready to berate him, when he shot up and aimed his pistol at you. Reacting quickly, you raised yours to him too, in a tense stand-off. Percy smiled, sneering at you as he put the gun back into the holster and raised his hands at you. He walked towards you, leaning in as he passed, whispering into your ear.

“I know you’ve got fire in your belly, and I’ll see it some time darlin’. Won’t be long before I break you and everythin’ you heard will come true. You’ll see! Women don’t say no to Percy Dolarhyde.”

He nudged you as he walked past, shoving you to the side as he left for the house. You shot a threatening look to the others, hoping they sensed your disappointment in their lack of morals, not one of them having stood up to Percy on your behalf. You had no energy to scold them though, Percy drained you completely, even with the most miniscule of interactions.

And you were irritated by how he had a habit of staying on your mind, even in the moments of peace you received from him. That night, you struggled to sleep, everything he said playing on your mind to the point that when you did eventually manage to close your eyes and dream, Percy intruded your thoughts there too. You hated him, but the things he said at the fire, the confidence in his voice, had spurred something in you, something you desperately wanted to push back down, but your subconscious mind indulged in.

So you had a fitful sleep, thoughts of Percy floating around your mind. Of him winning you over, of him holding you against the stables, digging the spurs at the back of his riding boots into your skin as he kicked your legs, spreading them apart, so he could fuck you against the wall. In the morning, you scrubbed hard at your face, as though clean skin might mean a clean mind, free of the frankly disturbing and un-pure thoughts you’d had about the vilest creature to walk this earth. Everything in you prayed that you would be able to avoid him today, but luck was never on your side, and you knew it was hopeless to even dream of a world where you might be able to stave off further interactions with him and save yourself the potential embarrassment of blushing at the sight of him.

#finnie writes #percy dolarhyde #cowboys and aliens #cowboys & aliens #percy dolarhyde x reader #percy dolarhyde x you #paul dano #danocel #danonation #percy dolarhyde x y/n #percy dolarhyde smut #percy dolarhyde fanfic #paul dano fanfic #paul dano fanfiction

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mojavegerbera · 1 year

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are dano!riddler fanfictions still a thing? are ppl still interested in them? I'd like to write one but don't want to go through the excruciating process of writing pages upon pages in what is not my native language only to be met with the sad truth of nobody reading that stuff. thanks for ur feedback

#the riddler #riddler 2022 #riddler year one #riddler x you #riddler x reader #dano!riddler #the batman 2022 #the batman #edward nashton #fanfictions #it's a paul dano world and we're living in it #paul dano #danonation

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

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"Even closer behind" - Riddler x Reader

[TW: murder, gore, blood, explicit language, jealousy/possessiveness]

SUMMARY: Some guy won't stop texting you so Ed decides to take things into his hands. For better or worse, your problem is gone, well, permanently.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.4k

A/N: give "Hungry Like The Wolf" - Hidden Citizens, Tim Halperin a listen! Inspired by the weird DMs I've gotten on Reddit

Sender: [email protected] Subject: pls respond i'm sorry pls Message: i'm sorry pls give me a 2nd chance it was stupid to spam you god pls i will do anything for you pls text me back im sorry im so pathetic pls pls pls ill be better pls

Your frustrated groan pulled Ed away from his work.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked nervously. Ed may have appeared quite collected but in his frenzied mind, he was already playing out tragic scenarios in which you leave him. Everyone said that you were "settling" for him, so maybe you have finally believed them?

"A minor inconvenience, really," you answered with a sigh. "There's this guy, Luke, he's a friend of a friend and keeps asking me out." Ed's heart might have literally stopped at those words. He wasn't stupid, maybe naive at times, so he knew that other people would see that alluring perfection you had flowing through your veins - the same unholy particle that made him lose his mind completely and swear unwavering devotion to you. Sooner or later, someone was going to try to steal you from him and Ed was well aware of that. "I told him 'no' like hundreds of times and ended up blocking his number but he's like an actual cockroach! Like today, he spammed me with e-mails that basically boiled down to him having a meltdown over me dating some jerk and never giving the good guy a chance. He made up a whole scenario in which he's the victim and then got upset with me about it! Damn, I wish I had his mother's phone number so I could send her screenshots."

Ed struggled to swallow. His hand was gripping the pen tight enough to begin to shake. At that point he wasn't even angry - all reason had already left him and now his headspace was only filled with weirdly tranquil bloodthirst. At that moment, the entire world was but white noise, some static that distracted him from his goal. All possibilities for the murder were playing out in his head, a high-pitched ringing in his ears was the only sound he could hear. No one else could have you.

"I'm gonna take a nap," you announced suddenly. "You're welcome to join whenever you're finished."

He watched as you lay on his couch and pulled one of his jackets over your shoulders. For a moment he really did consider taking a break but Ed knew that there was a more pressing matter he had to tend to immediately.

For a man of his size, Ed expected Luke to be a little harder to take down and bind. The, theoretically speaking, hardest part of his plan, turned out to be greatly unexciting but maybe it was for the better - he will have more strength for the delicious main course.

"Before we get to the main event, let's play a little game, shall we?" Ed spoke while circling Luke who was taped to a chair. "I'll give you a riddle and you'll solve it. If you get it right, I'll kill you."

"And... if I don't?" the man asked. His voice was shaky, panic already gnawing at his reason. It seemed as if the longer he stared at the masked face, the less sane he became.

"I'll kill you too, only sooner. So, let's get to." Ed clapped his hands and rubbed them in excitement. "I am always near and never far. I am often avoided but always catch up. I will come when you're old and grey or maybe even the very next day. I come in many forms whether it's irony, love, laughter, or hate. I am everyone's final fate."

Luke stared at Ed in confusion, too terrified to even begin deciphering the riddle. His mind was more focused on delaying his upcoming death rather than on the words that had just left Ed's mouth. Aside from overwhelming fear, Luke's mind was completely blank.

"What the fuck, man?!" Luke yelled out desperately. It all seemed like a sick joke, something too demented to be the candid thoughts of a human being.

"Not even close, Luke." Ed shook his head. "Are you trying at all?! You can't be that stupid, come on!"

"Fuck, man, I don't know! Let me go, you psycho!"

"Luke, Luke, Luke... why are you making things hard for yourself? Would it hurt to finally use your brain after all those years?"

"Fuck you!" he yelled spitting out some blood. Ed really landed that hit with the bat.

A tense silence fell for a moment. It was probably that very moment, the calm quietness of the executioner, that made Luke realize his imminent fate. Ed admired the fear and resignation in the man's eyes.

"Fine."

Ed stretched out a long piece of silver tape and began taping around Luke's head, leaving only a small gap for the man's nostrils - if he died of asphyxiation, a little too fast for Ed's liking, the whole sentiment of the ordeal would have been lost.

Luke thrashed, at least as much as he could while being severely restrained. His frantic movements momentarily stopped as he heard the shriek of metal - a blade had either been pulled out or someone was sharpening it very slowly.

Without hesitation or fear, Ed stabbed Luke's abdomen. The man began thrashing again, only worsening his wound.

"You have to pay for what you've done, Luke. Those are the rules."

Blood gushed out of the open wound after Ed had taken the blade out. His hand trembled but not with fear, no - it was excitement, some primal passion for taking lives that fairly quickly pushed out his self-control.

When Ed raised his hand again, preparing for another blow, it was as if the world ceased to exist: it was only him, his blind range and the asshole that dared to try to steal something that belonged to Ed and Ed only.

Spiralling into ferocious, frenzied hunger, Ed began frantically stabbing Luke, his hand driving the blade inside the man's stomach only to pull it out right away. He was too far gone to even begin to realize that his arm was beginning to ache:

"You can't have her. You can never have her! No one can have her! I won't let you steal her away from me. She's mine, mine, mine!"

By the end of his tantrum, Luke's insides were already mush, stabbed into an impressionist's grotesque vision of entrails. There was blood on his clothes as well as little bits and pieces of Luke's organs. Justice was done, all that was left now was peace.

He was about to leave the condo, let life take its course but suddenly he remembered your words - that if you could, you would have sent Luke's mother evidence of her son's antics. Yes, he could do that for you...

Ed reached for the dead man's phone and used the corpse's still warm finger to unlock it. Having taken at least ten photographs, all at different angles to broaden their artistic scope, and then hit 'send'.

The heavy rain was thundering against the windows and so there was no point in Ed going out of his way to enter the apartment as quietly as he could. Nevertheless, he did his best. Peeking into the living room turned study, he saw you laying still on the couch - still asleep, covered with one of his jackets. Your face was so soft, so undisturbed. Exactly the way it should be.

Ed was happy to announce that the vermin was gone and he wasn't going to disturb you any longer. In fact, he was happy enough to be ready to wake you up the moment he came back home but he knew better - you needed some rest.

Carefully, not to wake you up, he removed the jacket you were sleeping under. Ed lay down on the couch with you, wrapping his arms tightly around you as if you were going to walk out the door any second. He listened to your steady, shallow breaths and calm heartbeat. You were there, with him, the only way it should ever be; the only way he'll allow it to be.

He was going to make you feel happy, proud and loved - even if it was the last thing he would do in his life.

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imagine--if · 2 months

Text

A/N: I've missed writing for Eddie 🥹 hope you enjoy reading! And happy 2nd anniversary to The Batman movie!! Can't believe I fell in love with the film and its characters two solid years ago, and super hyped for the sequel 🖤 A Bruce Wayne/Battinson imagine will be coming soon, so stay tuned!!

Wordcount: 1.3k

Time period: Riddler Year One, Issue 6 (beginning of The Batman)

He hated it when you were gone this long.

It was okay if he knew where you were, if you were working or out with a couple of friends, someplace he could track you through your phone. Through windows. Through anything. As long as the sun was still out and he knew exactly where you were, could reach you whenever he wanted, he could keep his grip on his mentality, and at least half-focus on his plans and preparations.

But he couldn't do any of that right now. Which led to the inevitable.

Pacing his shabby little apartment that you somehow managed to make a little brighter, tidier, something close to home, closer than he'd ever got before. But now, it was cold and dark and empty, painfully quiet, apart from his uneven, staggering breaths that Edward tried in vain to swallow down.

'Breathe.'

It was a simple job. Too simple. Sneak into the Penguin's rooms at the Iceberg Lounge, plant the bug, slip out again, unnoticed. And you would either be very much unnoticed, blending in perfectly with. there's of the deceptively beautiful girls and boys who danced and flirted and drank at the bars and around round tables and tall, glossy silver poles stretching up into the high ceilings of the club. Or you would be pulled aside by some pervert that thought you were as pretty as Edward himself did, maybe by the Penguin, or that pig Falcone.

He shouldn't have set you. Too risky. Send a follower? No, too complicated; not enough of them yet, everything still growing and finalising, piecing together in a lovely puzzle crafted by his mind. You might well go unnoticed, but if he dared go himself, it would be a horror show.

This was a baadddd idea.

The smooth click and glide of the lock twisting and opening up the heavy front door made him flinch out of his thoughts, murky green eyes jumping to the short hallway with hope and fear in his gaze. The same hope a puppy gets when its owner comes back home, the same fear a madman harbours in a dizzying craze, living off the what-ifs and obsessions their mind feeds them in the darkness.

When he speaks, it's in a rush, words tripping over each other and his voice catching, stumbling forwards to grip onto your shoulders with his soft but firm, trembling grip.

"You were gone too long," Edward insists, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sweater, searching for your warmth and reassurance, his eyes trying to take in every part of your face at once. "Too long... and I was worrying, and I felt sick, and I- you can't do it again, please, please, because-"

"It's alright, Eddie," you cut him short gently in amusement and sympathy, your arms fitting snugly around his neck as you embrace him. You easily fill him shiver at the contact, starving, aching, as he hugs you back with enough force to make you breathless, digging his face in your neck needily with a soft whining sound.

It's almost funny, how desperate and childlike he can be, all big green eyes sparkling with joy and awe at how readily you give your affections to him, his skin bare of any sweet touch from another being in Gotham other than yours. But he doesn't want anyone else's now, anyway. The rest of Gotham can sink into its corruption, and his hope incarnate can dance above the waves.

He gazes up at you in a slight daze, speechless, and you smile at him the way you do, the way that makes him smile back in giddy wonder, his thoughts spinning around and around like a carousel, all bright, pure lights and ethereal tunes.

"I miss you," Edward mumbles, half to himself, his stare wandering to study your eyes, your nose, your lips. "Always."

"I missed you too," you reply earnestly, "but it was worth it. I did what you said."

He blinks at your words, his attention circling back as he looks up into your eyes in curiosity and a sweet, almost innocent light, one that doesn't at all match the moment.

"I bugged his office," you clarify, nodding, "in and out. No one saw my face, and if they did, they won't remember it."

Edward lets out a slow breath, his expression loosening from intrigue and thought to the depths bubbling to the surface, his eyes spiked with venom and his words hushed with a small smirk.

"Oh," he mumbles, before giggling slightly, blinking up at you in pride and unhinged malice. "I love you."

You beam at his words, your fingers stroking down the plump curve. of his cheek, an action that makes him shudder and his breath catch in his throat, his eyes round and adoring.

"I love you too, Ed."

"I- I'll give you everything," he promises, his words rolling into lovestruck rambles between repeating your name, "everything I have. Every... everything."

There's that strange but familiar feral hunger in his eyes, not violent, but full of untethered passion and obsession, of love and lust, of everything he's never experienced before. And now that he is, he wants it all, wants it now, to feel everything at once and lose himself in endless spirals of pleasure and ecstasy that rakes up his spine and makes his voice crack and break-

"I'll never," Edward continues in a whisper, tugging you deeper into his arms, walking back and down onto his couch and pulling you with him, "never let you go. Everything will happen as it should, and I'll be there to get you... again, and again, and again, and again, and-"

You let him keep rambling on, his cheek rubbing against yours and ducking into the hot curve of your neck like a cat, his damp lips skimming your skin mindlessly, hanging onto you with his surprisingly strong grip, even though there's nowhere else to go. Tonight, there's nothing but the Riddler, his arms trapping you inside all that he is.

Black and green screens of computers running code down their displays absently fills the night with an eerie but almost comforting glow, polaroid pictures of his targets, red ink scribbled harshly in question marks and accusations over the glossy print. For you, there's a separate case of shots, most taken with you knowing, across the room in his apartment, with Edward grinning and giggling when you glare at him weakly in amusement and protest at the constant flashes and printing of pictures and mugshots.

No escape. None at all. You're with him for life, because you let him in, and like a virus, he ran through everything that makes you, you, drinking it in and fantasizing up until this very moment. A moment where Edward forgot about the blood he shed and the streams up for his cult following, the big board pinned with pictures and news clippings and rage in the form of black and white. He just clung to you fiercely, inhaled you, to do it all again the next morning, still trembling with the warmth and tremors of raw desire and love.

I am there, but cannot be seen," he whispers in your ear, nuzzling impossibly closer to you, his fingers lacing with yours, "to have me costs you nothing. To be without me costs you everything. What am I?"

You've heard this one before. It was in one of the little notes he left you during your first few meetings with him, and every one of his riddles seemed to have something to do with you, with how he saw you, absolutely angelic with no flaws, no blemishes, gorgeously unharmed by the wicked world of Gotham.

"Hope?" you guess correctly, glancing up at him expectantly, and he giggles again, his fingers tracing over your lips boldly, caught up in the moment and his own wonderful world of puzzles and clues.

"Or," Edward smiles brightly at you, resting his forehead against yours... and answering with your name.

✧༺ 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ༻∞ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

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