I want to re-organize or completely restart my blog. I have lots more writing interests than just TF2! (i’ll still be writing TF2, but right now my interests are vast) and i just don’t like how messy this blog is. if i do make a new one this one will NOT get deleted! And i will link it if i do decide to go that route
also this blog is dead and it’s blood is in my hands.
I want to re-organize or completely restart my blog. I have lots more writing interests than just TF2! (i’ll still be writing TF2, but right now my interests are vast) and i just don’t like how messy this blog is. if i do make a new one this one will NOT get deleted! And i will link it if i do decide to go that route
also this blog is dead and it’s blood is in my hands.
I want to re-organize or completely restart my blog. I have lots more writing interests than just TF2! (i’ll still be writing TF2, but right now my interests are vast) and i just don’t like how messy this blog is. if i do make a new one this one will NOT get deleted! And i will link it if i do decide to go that route
also this blog is dead and it’s blood is in my hands.
I want to re-organize or completely restart my blog. I have lots more writing interests than just TF2! (i’ll still be writing TF2, but right now my interests are vast) and i just don’t like how messy this blog is. if i do make a new one this one will NOT get deleted! And i will link it if i do decide to go that route
also this blog is dead and it’s blood is in my hands.
I want to re-organize or completely restart my blog. I have lots more writing interests than just TF2! (i’ll still be writing TF2, but right now my interests are vast) and i just don’t like how messy this blog is. if i do make a new one this one will NOT get deleted! And i will link it if i do decide to go that route
also this blog is dead and it’s blood is in my hands.
I want to re-organize or completely restart my blog. I have lots more writing interests than just TF2! (i’ll still be writing TF2, but right now my interests are vast) and i just don’t like how messy this blog is. if i do make a new one this one will NOT get deleted! And i will link it if i do decide to go that route
also this blog is dead and it’s blood is in my hands.
You cant tell me that Damon Gant wouldn’t be one of the most manipulative, sleazy yanderes in the AA trilogy, at least. What he did in SL-9 is just scratching the surface of how far he can go
*Drops to knees* I am literally BEGGING for a Dano!Riddler x Psychiatrist piece… maybe he knows they aren’t being watched as carefully as they should be?
Faustian Bargains
Pairing: Edward Nashton / Female Reader (3.7k)
Warnings: violent threat, discussion of canon events, mild choking, slight dubcon, hints of obsession, degradation, oral sex (m!receiving), handcuffs, swallowing, hair pulling.
Part 2: Devil In The Details
Summary: Assigned as the newest psychiatrist to treat Edward Nashton, your first meeting quickly descends into a dangerous game which sees you making a deal with the devil to survive.
Edward Nashton was quickly proving himself to be a somewhat atypical patient.
Most criminals were unwilling to speak to you, viewing your role as one of the enemy and someone who was there to threaten their world. However, Edward was positively chatty as he spoke candidly of his crimes with the confidence of a man who held little repentance.
Crossing your arms, the movement disturbing the light green blouse which you had elected to throw on earlier that morning, you run your finger along the fabric as you focus on the discussion at hand.
“You left a wife without her husband and a child without his father-”
“His father was a monster who paid for his sins.” Edward interrupts with a disappointed tut, his lips curling in disgust at the mention of the late mayor. “The child will be better off in the long run. Besides, his precious mommy will prevent him from enjoying the true orphan experience.”
“And you resent him for that?”
“I am not jealous of a child,” spitting the retort, open anger flashed in Edward’s expression for a second before mellowing, “and I never had parents to mourn. My primary caregivers were more interested in corporeal punishment and negligence than cartoons and holiday celebrations. They never had the biological bias to even pretend otherwise.”
Interesting.
“Do you feel betrayed by that? Their lack of care towards you and abandonment of their duties?”
“You tell me!” His laugh is airy, tinged by the madness which peaks through his simple actions. “That’s your job isn’t it? Don’t tell me you need me to answer the riddles of my past for you.”
Ignoring his attempts to needle your confidence, you divert the conversation down a new pathway.
“There are some who would say the same about you,” adjusting the uncomfortable hem of your skirt with your thumbs in a subtle manner, your attention never leaves his expressive features, “and they would use that exact term; a monster. Are you a monster, Edward?”
Blinking at you for a moment from behind his glasses, Edward is silent and you realise that it is the first time you have addressed him by his first name. Concern pricks at your skin at the reaction but he is quick to recover as he provides a cryptic answer.
“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.”
Lifting his hands up over his shoulder to indicate the small window which looked out onto the Gotham horizon, his words are lyrical, and they take you a moment to place.
“Milton’s Paradise Lost?” You query, not too surprised that his literacy recall was as sharp as his other mental skills.
At the recognition, his face lights up with pleasure as his quote is understood and you continue your line of questioning.
“So, you don’t think your actions were monstrous? The twisted games? The bombs across Gotham? The attempted mass shooting of people who were only trying to survive?”
Hearing the open incredulity in your own voice, you cough politely to cover it.
“I did what had to be done to show Gotham its own rotten underbelly.” Edward protests quietly, allowing his shoulders to rise and fall in a theatric shrug. “Someone had to be strong enough, brave enough and brilliant enough to carve away the rancid meat to see how far the infection had taken root. I succeeded where so many others failed.”
“So many lives and resources lost due to your flood; how can you justify all the suffering you have brought to the innocent people of Gotham? People you claim to want to help.”
“Innocent is a very strong word, doctor.” Edward counters quickly, tapping the edge of his cuffs on the metal table as he tilts his head at you. “The people of this city let the corrupt take power and they put the foundations in place for this cesspool of a city to fester. In a city where careless gluttony is king and selfish perversion is the natural order, I wanted to take those foundations away.”
“By killing people?”
“Can’t make an omelette without cracking a few eggs.” Shrugging once again, his boyish face held a distinctly mischievous look which was wholly inappropriate for the discussion at play. “You disagree with me? Surely there must be some brains behind that pretty face; you are a doctor after all. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me?”
Pretty face.
Recognising the compliment, you lean back into your chair to appraise him without his knowledge.
Seated as he is, it is easy to forget that his full height places him over an impressive six feet and the obvious lack of muscle on his average yet toneless frame belies the wiry strength which he has within his possession. It had proven itself enough to bludgeon a man and subdue others, something which was necessary to remember despite his unassuming appearance.
His round face was surprisingly gentle, expressive eyes barely concealed behind the clear frames which he was loathe to remove, and each of his features held a softness which could make it easy to forget about the twisted sadism which poisoned him from within. The Gotham press had enjoyed a field day with his image; using unearthed images of his youth as an cherubic, orphaned choirboy to provide a stark contrast to the monster which now sat opposite you.
They hated the sinner as much as the sin and if the public were not so focused on rebuilding Gotham then there was no doubt they would be clamouring at the gates of Arkham for his head on a silver platter.
A slight shadow of bruising decorated his temple but the source of it was unknown as you answer his earlier statement.
“You don’t think I can help you?”
He was not conventionally handsome but there was an appeal within those soft features which you could have appreciated had things been different. Your tastes had always run to men who were slightly more on the fringe of society; nerds and obsessives who were not afraid to show passion for any subject which inspired them as they indulged their interests.
It was endearing, and you could imagine that his job as a forensic accountant would have suited his various neuroses. It was not an easy job, the technological knowledge required for it being something which was beyond your abilities, and you could appreciate the skill that such a vocation would require.
He was a rare case of a man who had the intelligence to back up his narcissism.
Under different circumstances and greater clarity of mind, he would have been an interesting date.
“I’m not insane.” He states, shaking his head as though explaining something simple to a child. “Your time is wasted here because only I have the ability to see what this city needs. You are blind to it, like so many others. You lack understanding.”
His tone growing more irritated as his small speech continued, the agitation was clear in his body language as his cuffed hands drop below the table and the distinct rhythm of his foot as it taps against the metal table echoes quietly within the cramped space.
“Even the Arkham staff have no understanding. They set up these interrogation rooms with only a single camera,” he indicates to the blinking red light in the upper corner of the room, “which has been broken for weeks and never fixed because the staff are more interested in practicing their abysmal poker skills than securing the safety of their inmates.”
“The camera works, Mr. Nashton.” You bluff, a tendril of fear curling its way down your spine at the accuracy of his words. “Arkham is a publicly funded institution after all.”
"The staff also lack understanding of how primitive handcuffs are when the trick to escaping them is so simple even a fool could manage it."
Lifting his hands from below the table, it takes you a second to register that the handcuffs which had been locked around his wrists are missing but the realisation hits you like a cup of freezing water as your heart stops in your chest.
Wiggling his fingers in a playful manner, a yelp of fear escapes you as you jump from your seat and bolt towards the door, panic making you forget that the door locks from the outside as your fingers squeeze the handle desperately, mouth opening to scream for help.
However, before a single sound can escape past your lips, your hand is wrenched from the handle by a strong grip as your body is spun in place to force your back against the metal door with a loud thud.
The bright orange and white stripes of Edward’s jumpsuit flash before your eyes as you push against the larger body pinning you to the door, your hands swinging wildly in the small space as you attempt to gain some leverage.
It is all for nothing as his hands lock around your neck, forcing you to freeze like a rabbit in headlights as fear makes your heart pound in your chest like a hummingbird. Your fingers pressing against the metal of the door, panicked thoughts of escape mingle with open fear of the man before you and you can feel the flex of his fingers as they press against the vulnerable skin of your neck.
Madness shines from his eyes; his success in overpowering you making his lips curl into a soft smirk as he keeps you held in place and his chest heaves with every breath he takes, his excitement clear.
“It would be a real shame to kill you.” He tuts, breathing heavy and laboured as his head tilts while he speaks mostly to himself. “You are much more interesting than the other doctors who traipse through here.”
“I don’t want to die.” You whimper, the pressure of his leg pressing against your black skirt making your stomach drop as you realise that if he wanted to, he really could kill you right here and now.
His face is merely inches away from your own and the scent of him invades your senses; a masculine musk which is tainted by cheap asylum soap.
“And I don’t want to be locked within this asylum.” He counters, leaning closer to your face as a faux-apologetic look graces his rounded features and you can feel his breath brush along your ear as he continues. “But we all have our crosses to bear.”
Gain the upper hand.
Whatever the cost.
Going limp within his grasp to show your open submission to his hold, you bring your hand up slowly to ghost along the cheek of his rounded face and the gentle brush of your knuckles seems to startle him like a sudden blow.
"What are you doing?" He hisses, teeth baring in an instant like some feral animal as his hands tighten around your throat, just enough to threaten without fully cutting off the air supply.
"Trying to buy my freedom.” You wheeze around his fingers, survival instinct making your breath come in short gasps as you tempt him. “If you are up to it.”
At the word ‘up’ your gaze drops to his lower half to leave no doubt as to your meaning and the open confusion which graces his face would almost be endearing if his hands weren't still wrapped around your neck.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” He growls after a moment, anger flashing in his eyes as his uncertainty at your sudden change in tone throws him off-kilter.
“What does a quarrel have in common with a bargain?”
Narrowing his eyes at you, the riddle is one which he cannot ignore.
“Both need two to make one.” He replies after a moment.
“I think you’re a man who knows what he wants and will do anything to get it.” Keeping your voice steady, you play into his narcissism to soothe his residual anger. “And I don’t want to die here. We can make a deal.”
“Why should I?” His tone is low, poisoned by the arousal which you were undoubtedly causing him as it sounds rougher than anything you had heard previously. “We both know I am trapped here until I can devise a way to escape these asbestos-filled walls. Killing you would reward me some time away from the other doctors.”
“Killing me will only get you put in solitary for a very long time.” It was true, and you can see the reality of that thought settling in his gaze and you are quick to follow up with your second point. “But if you agree to let me go, to not hurt me, then I’ll show my appreciation for that kindness.”
Say what he wants to hear.
“Kindness.” He scoffs, lips curling into a snarl. “You think you can distract me by spreading your legs like the whores I watched slink around outside the Iceberg Lounge like rats? Like the older girls in the orphanage who would do anything for a little favouritism from the staff?”
Buy in to his delusions.
“Do I look like a whore?” You reply, his unexpected vulgarity causing a flush of heat in your cheeks. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t,” you pause, “curious.”
“Then prove it.” Releasing your throat, his hands drop to his jumpsuit as he brushes his fingers off on the fabric. “And if you try any little tricks of your own then I’ll kill you. Solitary confinement is nothing new to me.”
Filing that little comment into your mind for future use, a wash of uncertainty sweeps through you as you realise the position you are now in. Taking a deep breath, your hands reach out hesitantly towards the buttons which secure his jumpsuit and his body stills as you brush against his clothed chest with every button release.
A white vest preserves the modesty of his upper body, sparse chest hair peeking out from the edge of the vest as it lays against his chest in an unflattering manner, and the fabric of it shifts with every uneven breath which escapes him.
Reaching the lowest button, the one which lays over his groin and was designed to allow easy access to the bathroom for the inmates when necessary, you pause at the final point of no return.
No going back now.
As your fingers fumble with the final button, you can feel the growing hardness there as your actions have their intended effect and you swear you hear a soft gasp escape his lips as you pop the final button and pull your fingers back for a second.
In a similar shade of white to his vest, the boxers which are worn beneath his jump suit do little to hide the length of his cock as it presses against the fabric. Your fingers travel to the waistband, pulling the elastic down enough to reveal the thick patch of sandy pubic hair which decorated his groin, framing his cock as it springs free of his boxers.
His cock was very average, a fact which made a foolish amusement dance at the back of your mind as it reminds you that even the most strange of men were still only men where it counted. Jutting slightly to the left, it was a little thicker than you would have expected but nothing unmanageable and a sense of relief floods through you as it appears clean, at least.
Wrapping a hand around the base of his cock, your pinkie finger brushing against his pubic hair, you drop to your knees as you give it a few experimental tugs. Bringing the head of his cock towards your lips, your tongue slips free to explore the head as your hand pulls the foreskin back.
A strangled grunt meets your movements and it sparks a confidence within you that you could survive him if he was this eager with so little effort.
Without warning, Edward rocks on his heels and the forward momentum pushes his cock forwards towards your lips, forcing them to part further as they wrap around his tip, the immediate taste of salt apparent on your tongue.
A rough hand comes to rest atop your head, fingers fluttering between your hair to hold and guide you in position as he enjoyed your mouth.
“It’s been a long time.” He offers, the short sentence broken by a rough grunt as your fingers trace a gentle line up the underside of his cock. “You can’t imagine.”
Taking unnecessary mercy on him, you dip your head forward and accept him fully into your mouth as you hollow your cheeks out. Stretched around him, your lips and tongue work together to encourage him as he bucks into the warmth of your mouth and you can feel the tension in his legs as your hands rest on his thighs.
After a few quick thrusts, he pulls back from you, his cock freeing itself from your mouth with an obscenely wet-sounding pop, and you glance up at him in surprise.
Meeting his eyes, the blaze of arousal is clear and, even from behind his glasses, you can imagine how you must look in his eyes as you kneel before him; how rare this must be, how much confidence it must spark in his lonely life, how it must make him feel uncharacteristically powerful.
It was almost sad, or at least it would be if he weren’t also a mass murderer who had make his previous intent to kill you quite clear.
Pushing the unhelpful thoughts from your mind, you refocus on the task at hand.
Once again gripping his cock within your hand, you swirl your tongue around his head before bobbing your head down his length in one smooth movement, accepting most of him as his cock touches the back of your throat, forcing you to fight against your instinctive gag reflex. The tickle of his pubic hair threatens the tip of your nose as your fingers grip at his outer thighs for leverage.
The muted whines and growls of pleasure which spill free of his lips are like music and it is easy to forget the reality of the situation you are in as you picture him as just another lover, someone who had earned the place he was currently holding.
Hips snapping, he pushes forward and the force of it is enough to slip him past your mouth and two inches down your throat. Taking the move into your stride, you force your throat to relax and press your head forward slightly, sinking more of his cock down your warm throat.
Saliva floods your mouth, mixing with his pre-cum, as he uses you and you can feel how close he is as his bucking hips grow more erratic and the laboured breathing hitches with every frantic thrust.
A grunt of pain vibrates around his cock as his hand tightens on your hair roughly, his hips snapping forward to bury his cock as deeply within your mouth as possible while his orgasm hits. As he moans through his release, panic sets within your chest as your throat is blocked, unable to do more than swallow down everything he has to offer as you struggle for air.
Thankfully, he pulls back quickly, his hand freeing itself from your hair as both his hands cup around his mouth, muffling the loud sigh which escapes his lips as he enjoys the aftermath of his orgasm.
Coughing as you tuck his cock back within his boxers, you are surprised by his hand as it dips to offer you a gentlemanly assistance in righting yourself.
Accepting the hand, you rise to a standing position once again as your fingers move to smooth over your knees, wiping away some of the dirt and lint which has accumulated there from the asylum floor. A suspicious wetness makes itself known against your underwear as you squeeze your thighs together, but you chalk it down to your willingness to indulge in fantasy, rather than provide any acknowledgment to the attraction of the madman before you.
The obvious tremble of his fingers as he fixes his own buttons is unmissable and he steps away from you as he walks back around the table to drop into his original seat.
An open show of his non-threatening intent, his end of the bargain laid clear to your eyes.
“You are smart. I can see that.” He mutters, eyes shining behind his glasses. “Using a riddle to focus me and saying words which you know will please me. I can appreciate that tenacity; that drive to survive against the odds.”
He had been on to you the whole time and yet he had allowed the whole sordid thing to go through.
“You are a survivor. Willing to do what needs to be done.” His voice is suspiciously light once again, full of a delusional assurance which you know cannot be contested by rational thought. “Someone. Just. Like. Me.”
A sense of unease taps at your consciousness as he speaks.
While the constraints of a professional relationship had been snapped - the residual taste of his release on your tongue making that quite clear - there was a difference between bargain sex, given to secure your safety, and willing kinship, and it was a constraint which you had no intention of crossing.
“I like that blouse.” He comments and the unexpected nature of the words distract you from your thoughts as your brow creases in surprise. “I think green might be your colour as much as it is mine. Maybe one day I will show you my mask and you can see it in all its glory. It’s beautiful.”
He wasn’t finished with you yet.
A loud banging noise makes you flinch as though shot and your eyes snap to the interrogation room door as one of the orderlies walks in. From the irritation marring his expression, you can tell that luck had probably not been on his side in his recent card game.
“That’s your time, doctor.”
Jerked from your stupor by his words, you rise to your feet slowly as Edward watches you with a hawk-like gaze, the warmth of which makes you shudder.
Reaching the door, the orderly holds it open for you in a polite show and you nod at him in thanks.
“Same time next week, doctor?” Edward asks, his tone poisoned by the secret which only two of you could possibly know. “I finally think I am making some progress here.”
A myriad of emotions wash through you; anger, shame, arousal, amusement, and each of them carry their own demons which would need to be considered when your body was far from the asylum and housed in the safety of your shithole apartment.
“We shall see, Mr. Nashton.”
Expecting the answer to displease him, surprise alights within your chest as your response causes his lips to spread in a manic grin, one which makes him appear to be every inch the madman you now understand him to be.
Fic on posted on AO3
((As a heads up, this MIGHT be my last 'bigger' fic for a wee while because my job is getting busy again. So unless this fic does 'numbers' (which is very rare), you will have to settle for drabbles because I cannot prioritise my writing above other commitments unless the motivation is impossible to ignore.))
I keep seeing these x riddler fics where the reader is getting dommed by him in the bedroom and I’m like did we watch the same movie????? Mans was frothing at the mouth over police shoving him against a bar he was holding back whimpers
i realize i’m not getting a lot of interaction and i wanna know from my followers: what do you want? please don’t hesitate to send me requests. i’m so bored aaahhhh
