I’ve been getting into somno lately and all I can think about is my poor f/o feeling so desperate and lonely at night that he pulls down my pants and eats me out while I sleep. He promised himself it would just be a little bit but before you know it, he’s humping me with his head against my chest glasses askew and he doesn’t even care about me waking up 🥴
imagine sophisticated and put-together f/o lose their composure when they fuck you. moaning in your ear wantonly, arms wrapped all tightly around you, thrusts getting so sloppy and the noises coming from in between you two are wet and obscene… what’s crazy is that they are so classy in front of everyone else. neat clothes, calculated mannerisms… but they lose it with you. you’re holding onto them and whining because it feels so fucking good. they crash their mouth onto yours and kiss you so hard, shoving their tongue down your throat because they want to feel and taste more of you… they are so overwhelmed because you’re just so hot, and god they’re gonna cum so hard.
I will praise you. Every time you do exactly as I say? “Good girl.” Told me how you really feel? “Good girl.” Faced a fear? Finished a task? “Good girl.” It’s not just a catchphrase—it’s your clicker signal. Simple and consistent.
And good girls deserve rewards. Well-behaved pups get kibble. You? You get your pussy played with—but only if you earn it.
Cleaning is boring? Try it with a wearable vibrator humming against your clit. Cum only when the floors shine.
Struggling to sleep on time? Edge all day. Release only if you’re in bed by midnight.
Hate the gym? Jiggle balls will make every squat a tease—just try to focus on the technique while they vibrate inside you.
But It’s not just about orgasms. Expect surprises: a new collar; a long, slow massage after a hard week; or would you prefer a flogger "massage"? Anything that motivates you. The main thing you'll get is my undivided attention.
I won't force you—we’ll make work feel like play. Struggling to focus on boring studies or work tasks? You don’t do it because you “have to” anymore, you do it for me. Listen to your lectures in lingerie I pick, or maybe with ropes under your clothes, or a butt plug snug in your ass—so I can admire how well you take it. Show me your progress, get your praise and treats. We'll add more challenge if you do well. Can you still focus on your textbook while I use you?
We will have clear rules, defined tasks and guaranteed rewards. If you fail? No scolding. I'll be very patient with you, sweetheart, I am here to help you and guide you. We’ll try again later. We'll find another way if this one doesn't work. You’ll get there.
I'll only punish you if you don’t even try, or if you break our rules on purpose. And no, it won't be a spanking, which you would only enjoy. No touch. No praise. Feel how empty it is without me. Want my attention back? Earn it. Crawl. Sit. Beg. Suck. Good girl.
We’ll take it one step at a time. I know that many of the things I want from you scare you, but try for me. Just hold on a little longer today. A little deeper. A little more. You're doing well. Everything is fine.
You couldn't hold on and used the safe word? Good, good girl, you did everything right, and I'm so proud of you.
You’ll be such a perfect pet. Trained, treasured… mine.
You look upset and you're obviously avoiding me. Come here. I want you to climb into my lap, straddling me, face to face, and tell me what happened. Did you screw up again, or weren't perfect, or did you say or do something stupid... oh no, did you let yourself get emotional and someone saw it? No, no, look at me and tell me all the details. You blush cutely when you're embarrassed.
Yes, of course, tell me how you don't deserve love and hate yourself while I stroke your knees and thighs, my adorable little thing.
Yes, I'm serious, and I'm listening very carefully to how you're just a walking disappointment and you can't do anything, I'm holding on to your ass just so you don't accidentally fall off me.
No, I'm not going to let you go. I want my little loser here. Come closer... You know you can always lean on me, right? For anything. And you are welcome to grind against me too.
Whoa, who's that wet one? A really bad, bad girl. We're having a serious conversation, you're getting distracted.
You know, I still don't quite get what the big deal is... Raise yourself up a little... now lower yourself. Yeah, sit on this. It'll keep us more connected. Ohhh... yeah, you're getting really distracted. Sit still. And don't clench around me. Put your hands behind your back. Now tell me again what's wrong.
Just because I'm playing with your nipples is no reason to start moaning and squirming, if you do, I'll make you start all over again. Focus. So what did you do wrong? I understand that you expect me to shame and scold you, but you must explain clearly why. Yes, even if my hand moves lower.
Hey, this won't do. I still don't get why you think I'll eventually run out of patience and leave you. Let's try to explain again. This time with my fingers in your mouth. Yeah, I'm not kidding. Go ahead, tell me.
What? Come on, sweetie, use your words. You make really funny sounds, but why do you think you're not good enough?
Ah. I think I got it. You are good enough, without any "nots". Finally, a sensible thought. Let me free your mouth and you'll tell me that again? Repeat after me: "I'm Good Enough and I Deserve Good Things."
That’s my girl! I think it’s time for your first Good Thing for tonight.
✦ SYNOPSIS: What begins as proximity disguised as practicality becomes something far more dangerous. In the quiet corners of the bunker, Lucifer finds himself confronted with a kind of closeness he understands too well to trust. No grand gestures. No apocalyptic stakes. Just the slow accumulation of habit, choice, and warmth offered without fear. As the Winchesters grow wary for their friend and fellow hunter getting so close to the devil himself and lines blur between friendly curiosity and inability to stay away , you are forced to decide whether comfort is a risk worth taking—and whether Lucifer is capable of choosing restraint when something finally feels real.
This is the moment before doubt calcifies.
The pause before consequences learn your name.
✦ TONE & THEMES: Quiet tension • dry humor • deflection as armor • touch-starved divinity • choice and destiny • intimacy without spectacle • angsty fluff • Reluctant romance • Soft intimacy
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✦ BASED ON: Supernatural (TV Series)
Canon-divergent slow burn • bunker-era intimacy • restrained tension • morally complicated choices
✦ WRITTEN BY: ✧ Little Devil ✧
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Lucifer didn’t do comfort.
Not because he didn’t understand it. Because he understood it too well.
Comfort was leverage. Comfort was how you got people to lower their guard, how you convinced them the knife wasn’t coming. It was a tool, like fear or faith or love. Useful. Dangerous. Best handled with care.
And yet, lately, it kept happening to him anyway.
Not in any dramatic, end-of-the-world sort of way. No declarations. No lines crossed loudly enough to set off Dean Winchester’s hair-trigger instincts. It crept in quietly, disguised as normalcy. As routine. As the kind of human behavior that slipped under the radar until it was already embedded.
You sitting beside him instead of across the table during research, chair angled just a little toward his.
You handing him a mug of coffee without commentary, already knowing he wouldn’t drink it but doing it anyway because humans were weird like that.
You lingering after conversations ended, not rushing off, not filling the silence either, just… staying.
Lucifer noticed all of it.
He noticed the way your knee brushed his when you leaned in to read over a passage. The way you didn’t flinch when he reached across you for a book. The way you treated him less like a volatile supernatural threat and more like a deeply unpleasant coworker you’d decided to tolerate.
It was irritating.
Worse, his grace reacted.
Not with fire or fury or anything suitably apocalyptic. Just a low, constant awareness, like static under the skin. When you leaned closer, something in him settled. When you pulled away, it left behind a faint irritation, like someone had moved his chair an inch to the left without telling him.
He told himself it was nothing.
Humans were tactile creatures. Social. Invasive. You bumped into people. You shared space. You got comfortable too easily.
That didn’t mean anything.
Except habits formed patterns.
And patterns had consequences.
Angels weren’t supposed to crave touch. They were supposed to inspire it. Awe. Fear. Worship. Lucifer had been very good at all three once. But warmth? Ease? Casual familiarity offered without expectation?
That was new.
He handled it the only way he knew how. With humor. With deflection. With the same relaxed superiority he used when dismantling someone’s worldview without raising his voice.
Lucifer stayed conversational, dryly amused, just this side of indulgent. He teased. He provoked. He poked at your logic and smirked when you pushed back. He spoke like someone who already knew the ending and was enjoying watching everyone else struggle through the middle.
It worked. Mostly.
Until Dean Winchester started paying attention.
Lucifer caught Dean in the hallway one night, slowing mid-step as his eyes flicked between the two of you seated at the table. Too close. Too comfortable. Dean’s jaw tightened, shoulders squaring like he was mentally lining up contingencies.
Dean didn’t say anything.
Which, honestly, was rude.
Sam noticed too, eventually. Sam always took longer, but when he spoke, it was never without intent.
“You and Y/N seem… close,” Sam said one evening, voice carefully neutral.
Lucifer didn’t bother looking up from the book in his hands. “Yes. It’s called social interaction. Very popular among humans.”
Sam didn’t smile. “That’s not what I meant.”
Lucifer sighed, dramatic and put-upon. “It never is.”
The tension settled into the bunker slowly, like a bad smell no one wanted to acknowledge. Dean’s looks got sharper. Sam’s questions got subtler, wrapped in concern and laced with warning. You felt it too. Lucifer saw it in the way you hesitated before sitting beside him when the boys were watching, the way you put space between you like distance might make things easier.
It annoyed him more than it should have.
If they wanted to hate him, fine. He could work with that. Hatred was honest. Predictable.
This cautious, protective hovering?
That was messier.
The night you came to him, the bunker was quiet in that low, humming way that made even him slightly restless. Lucifer was in one of the unused rooms, perched on the edge of a table, flipping a coin over his knuckles. A habit he’d picked up somewhere along the line. Humans liked fidgeting. It helped them think.
“You’re stalling,” he said without looking up when you paused in the doorway. “Whatever it is, just say it. I promise not to smite you. Probably.”
You stepped inside and closed the door behind you.
“They don’t trust you,” you said.
Lucifer snorted softly. “That’s their best instinct.”
“They’re worried about me.”
That got his attention.
The coin stilled. He looked up, expression sharpening just a fraction. “Ah. And that bothers you.”
You hesitated.
He noticed. Of course he did.
“I don’t know,” you said finally. “Being close to you… it complicates things. With them. With everything.”
Lucifer slid off the table and crossed the room at an easy pace, stopping just shy of you. Close enough to feel your warmth. Not close enough to touch.
“Yeah,” he said lightly. “That tends to be my brand.”
“That’s not funny.”
“No,” he agreed. “But it is accurate.”
You exhaled. “They think you’ll hurt me.”
Lucifer tilted his head. “And do you?”
Another pause.
“Not intentionally.”
He smiled at that. Not cruel. Not mocking. Almost… appreciative.
“Good,” he said. “Because I’m usually very intentional.”
You frowned. “That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s honest,” he countered. “Big difference.”
You took a breath, steadying yourself. “And if I still choose this? Choose you?”
Lucifer’s jaw tightened. His hand lifted on instinct, hovering near your wrist before he stopped himself. He covered it with a shrug.
“Then,” he said, casual as if discussing weather, “I’ll try something wildly out of character.”
“What’s that?”
“Not ruining it.”
The silence stretched. Not uncomfortable. Just charged.
You stepped closer.
Lucifer felt it immediately. The decision in your movement. Your fingers brushing his sleeve, then his wrist. Warm. Sure. Not afraid.
That surprised him.
Then you leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t hesitant. It was careful, deliberate, and unmistakably your choice.
For a split second, Lucifer froze.
Then instinct kicked in. His hand snapped up, closing around your wrist, grip firm enough to stop you if you wanted to pull away. You startled—
—and then you relaxed. Leaned into it instead. Your other arm slid around his shoulders like this was where you meant to be.
Something cold and sharp ran through him.
“Well,” he thought dryly, this is new.
He kissed you back.
Slow. Controlled. Just a little smug, because of course he was. His thumb rested against your pulse, grounding himself more than you. He hated how easy it felt. Hated how human it was to enjoy the warmth, the closeness, the fact that you weren’t pulling away.
When he pulled back, it was with visible effort.
He rested his forehead against yours, breath steady.
“You know,” he murmured, “this is the part where I’m supposed to pretend I planned this.”
You smiled. “Did you?”
Lucifer scoffed softly. “Please. If I’d planned it, it would’ve been much more dramatic.”
He brushed a second, softer kiss against your lips. Brief. Almost gentle.
Then he stepped back, composure sliding neatly into place like a well-worn suit.
As you left the room, Lucifer stared at the empty space you’d occupied, tongue pressing briefly to his teeth.
Touch-starved. Distracted. And profoundly annoyed that he liked it.
God was absolutely laughing somewhere.
And that, more than anything, made him want to do it again.
all i can think about is homelander with the biggest breeding kink in all of existence and taking it out on you. him getting pissed off from all the pr work and coming back to you only to manhandle you into mating press and shove his fat cock inside your cunt. his hand tight around your neck, moaning as he sucked your tits. he’d mutter “you’re gonna give me the best fucking kids, aren’t ya?” while he nonstop thrusted into you so hard you were already practically braindead on his cock. he’d only let go of your neck to reach down and rub your clit, but he wouldn’t stop after you came. he wouldn’t stop after you beg for a break. he only stops when he decides. so you’d have to deal with round after round of his cum flooding your womb as his balls twitched every time they hit against your ass. after a little bit you’d be able to hear his needy whimpers. whimpering a mix of begs for you to never leave and how badly he wants to see you round with his kid. it’s always obvious when he’s about to be done by the way his mouth starts sucking harder on your breasts before he shoots his load into you. that’s when he finally pulls out, to watch as his semen dripped out of your ruined hole with a lazy grin and a “that’s my girl” before getting up and going back to work.
The idea that the Riddler is a total control freak during all things including sex is BLASPHEMY.
I do NOT think that Edward nygma is a mind shattering supervillain in the sack, in fact I think people who have control issues most often want to relinquish that during sex. He would want to be tied down and buzzed at with a Hitachi while you ask HIM riddles and trivia. He'll even GIVE you riddles with multiple answers so you can punish (reward) him for getting them "incorrect".
Hes definitely got a dumbification kink but that shit goes BOTH ways. Hes bi, demi, and a switch, send tweet.
Summary - A naughty morning spent in bed with Edward Nygma leads to a playful game which neither of you are willing to give up on too easily. (nsfw)
Link to AO3 ☆ Fic Masterlist ☆ Kofi
Mornings were kind to Edward.
As a being who appreciated a good sleep when the constant flux of his impressive brain allowed him some time to rest, the morning made a different man of Edward in a way that you privately adored. Gone was the incessant narcissism which accompanied his whirling thoughts. Gone was the sharp bite which followed his words as he couldn't help but point out mistakes and errors in tasks which a more nuanced man would ignore. Gone was the bravado, the mask which he wore for the world to protect himself.
Left behind was the man himself, at his most vulnerable and easy-going as he enjoyed the small and rare moment of peace. Edward's silken pillows had robbed him of his perfectly coiffed hair and the reddened strands stuck up in all directions as you tilt your head back at him and press your back even harder into his hair-littered chest.
If asked, you couldn't quiet remember who had initiated but a soft flurry of movements had seen Edward slowly pressing his morning wood into your willing hole, the gentle entry pulling a soft sigh from your lips as he adjusted his body to curl around you own and work himself as deeply as he could. Happy with the positioning, you had both settled into tight embrace, your hole warming his cock as much as his hand which was currently warming your stomach as it wrapped around your waist to flutter across the skin there.
"It's good being the boss." Edward groans, the tickle of his pubic hair making your ass tingle as he rolls his hips gently. His voice is tinged with sleep, content in a primal way as he speaks the words into your ear.
"And where did you get that idea?"
Challenging him with equal ease, you adjust your head to allow to him to pull your hair free of the nape as he rests his sharp chin on your neck.
"Am I not the decision maker in this relationship? The one who gets things moving and provides?" Edward counters with a slight huff. "My genius is in allowing you to think that you have the power. Don't you agree, dear?" He punctuates the question with the shallowest thrust, just a tease and little more, but the change in pressure within your heated cunt makes you gasp.
"Absolutely not." Tilting your head to scowl at him, you raise a finger and graze it across the coarse hairs of his stubble as you answer him in an incredulous rush. "You've really lost it now. Are you off your meds, baby?"
He laughs at that, an easy sound which vibrates through his chest and into your own.
"I hold the power here. You would have to be a fool to ignore that."
"Mmm," shifting to wrap a hand around the back of his neck, you tug sharply at the strands which fall against his nape, "that's not what you say when you're tied at my feet and begging me to fuck you. Then you're my sweet slave who does whatever I say because he likes making me happy. My good boy, my Eddie."
Letting the hair at his nape free, you instead ruffle at the crown - disturbing the reddish strands like you were petting a somewhat unruly pup.
Meeting your energy with sparkling eyes, only slightly dulled by his sleepiness, Edward takes your words in his stride with pursing lips.
"Interesting claim from the harlot who grows damper than a seabed at being told that she is also a good girl. How's your ass feeling today? Only one of us is wearing stripes from our games last night and it certainly isn't me."
Memories of the previous nights antics flash through your head, his abandoned belt just visible over the side of the bed, and you swear you feel a rush of fresh heat through the fading, reddened marks on your ass at his observations. You had lost his game and the agreed penalty was one you both thoroughly enjoyed as he delivered a few agreed strikes before using his mouth to make up for the mess.
"I feed us." Rolling your hips against his groin, you moan as his cock brushes your g-spot to send electricity up your spine. "Without my skills you would be a pathetic husk by now. Just like that skinny friend of yours with the bad attitude."
"Let's keep talk of Crane off the lips while I'm inside you, dear." You can feel the grimace against your neck as he kisses the skin there, dragging his tongue along your pulse point. "My intellect is unmatched, many problems are little more than child's play to me. I can bring this city to her knees on little more than a few simples riddles and a whim."
"Yeah, true, but I can do this."
Moving quicker than he could have anticipated, you pull free of his cock long enough to push him to his back and climb atop his frame; instantly sinking yourself back down on his length as your knees grip at his sides and your hands lay flat over his chest.
"Now that's just not fair." Edward groans, his hands instantly shifting to grip at your hips and steady you against his groin. "But holding onto that element of surprise is one of those little skills of yours that I admittedly love."
Love.
The word hung heavy in the air and you freeze in place despite yourself as your hands remain planted on his chest. He'd never said the word before, tactfully avoided it even, and the ease with which it flowed from his lips in this moment was like a bucket of cold water being splashed over your skin.
The rapid shift in tension didn't escape him and Edward's eyes narrowed for a moment as he visibly considered the possibilities for the change. His sharp focus darted across your expression and it took a moment but his gaze widened fractionally in realisation before being wiped clean and replaced with a blank yet calm look which you recognised as his favourite defensive choice when he'd made a slight error.
Wanting to move past it and not ruin the sweet moment, you rub your thumbs into his dusting of chest hair and smile down at him.
"Ooh, and what other skills of mine do you appreciate?" You shift the word tactfully, giving him an out which he could take without any backlash. It was playful, forced to be so, but it fell a little flat in the sudden stillness of the room.
Something weighty sits in Edward's features, the bright green eyes sweeping across your face and taking in the relaxed tension there, the false casualness which was carefully pressed into the tilt of your lips.
"Now that is a question born of ego, dear. And you accuse me of being a narcissist."
He accepted the deflection, giving life to the chance for the conversation to shift, but your lips can't help their cheeky response as you slide warm fingers up to bounce along the slight jut of his collarbone.
"You have several documents from several leading psychologists that would agree with me. But yeah, it's a selfish question and you don't need to answer it. I just like playing with you when you're all soft like this."
He scoffs as the notion but doesn't outwardly deny it as his thin hands massage your spread thighs - his cock still planted deep within your sex as you softly roll your hips every so often to remind him of that fact.
"Words have never failed me and they won't fail me now. We'll make a game of it."
Throwing your head back, the groan which pulls free of your throat is undeniable in just how long-suffering its cadence is.
"Eddie, it's not even 7am." You whine, deliberately pitching your tone to be as irritating as possible, nails curling into his defenceless chest harshly enough to make the corner of his lip twitch. "Can we save the game for when I've had at least two cups of coffee and maybe after we've fucked?"
"Who says we're fucking?" Edward asks, his brow quirking. "What if I'm quite content to just have you just wrapped around me like this? You can feel my appreciation of the current position, why ruin it by giving in to more base desires?"
It's a tease and you know it. Another game.
But you have an equal hand for this one.
"Then I'll just get myself off." You sigh, pulling yourself from his cock with one smooth movement as you roll your body to the side of the bed, standing and quickly stretching so every inch of your skin - belt marks included - was easily on display. "A shower and my other special friend will see me right."
"No, wait-" Looking thoroughly disappointed as panic sets into his elven features, Edward follows your movements as you dip into the top drawer of your bedside cabinet and pull free the small vibrator which lives there. "That wasn't wha-"
You fix him with an expectant look, genuine amusement in your gaze as you take in his somewhat pathetic positioning - features stricken and damp cock still jutting proudly from the patch of red pubic hair which rings it.
"-can I at least watch?"
Considering the ask with pursed lips, you can't deny the thrill of his proposal and the thought of his sharp eyes drinking in your soft movements with a slowly jerking hand as you pleasure yourself under the hot stream is very tempting.
"Pervert." You sniff, firing the accusation like a dart.
He grins as that, face lighting up. "Perhaps! But isn't that a skill of mine you appreciate?"
Barely able to refrain from an eyeroll, you refuse to dignify him with a verbal response and instead click the fingers of the hand which isn't curled around your vibrator and point at the shower with an expectant look.
Even after all the feats you had seen Edward accomplish, beautiful and horrifying things which a normal man would struggle with, you are still impressed with how quickly he pulls his body from the sheets and darts into the bathroom ahead of you - his cock guiding him like a particularly horny dowsing rod.
Notes | I personally headcanon that Edward has a bimbofication kink. This man's whole thing is that he thinks he is smarter than everybody. I can totally see him actively "dumbing" the reader down into nothing but a stupid doll for his amusement and finding it hella hot.
Note 2. Did you know that Riddler specifically address Bruce as "The Batman" because it's a way to separate myth from the person and almost deify him? Which makes sense because Riddler believes if he can beat Batman (one of the smartest people he knows) it would make him a god or at least god-like.
Note 3. Somehow this ended up with more degredation than humiliation, but I don't care. It still counts. Sorry it's late. Also, this man absolutely has a sleeper build. Bro works on machines and creates inventions constantly, and metal isn't exactly light. Personally, I don't think any of the rogues would be good with aftercare, other than maybe Ivy, Harley and Freeze, with Harvey on occasion, and potentially Falcone.
Kinktober Day 5: Humiliation
Masterlist kinktober2025
Humming echoed from the large computer Edward was working at. His eyes scanning the screens as his fingers trailed over the keyboards, pen dangling from his lips; deep in thought working on another one of his inventions.
Soft giggles flew through the air making his brow furrow. Batman was getting too close to figuring out his lair and he needed to come up with a new invention, new riddles, to drive the Bat away, and he didn't have time for frivolous distractions.
Again, giggles flew through the air, distracting him for a moment, causing his foot to slide out from under him, sending him rolling away from the computer with a growl.
"Must you make that incessant noise? Some of us are working." He hisses, not even looking up at you as he rolls back over to the computer, grabbing his stylus to begin sketching his latest invention.
It was peacefully silent for a few minutes as Edward tinkered, before the soft pitter-patter of feet echoed. Arms loosely wrapping around his shoulders as a weight settled on his back.
"Whatcha workin' on?" The sound of your voice made him almost wince, reaching up to rub his ears with a scowl. "Whoops, sorry Eddie, was I too loud?"
"Must you yell in my ears, constantly." He said dryly, narrowing his eyes at the screen. You opened your mouth to retort but he was quick to lift your jaw, silencing you. "That was a rhetorical question, you absolute bimbo."
You pout softly, laying your head on his shoulder, "That's not very nice. I just asked what you was doin'."
"Were doing," He corrects on instinct before pausing. He looked up for a moment, as if asking for strength, letting out a sigh, "I am crafting a new trap for The Batman."
"What's it do?"
Edward tried to refrain from snapping at you. Your lack of proper grammatical structure often brought a twitch to his eye, and some days, he wondered why he kept you around. But God were you cute, and seeing you go dumb on his cock was enough of a reason for you to stay.
"Darling, you wouldn't understand what it did, if I gave you a thirty slide power point," He states blankly, "with pictures."
You tilted your head, reminiscent of a confused puppy making him sigh, "Darling, why don't you go back to what you were doing and let me keep working?"
You huff, draping yourself over his back, burying your face in his neck with a whine, "But, I'm bored. Come on Eddie, play with me."
"I am working, and you are being a pest."
"Please? Please play with me? I'm bored, and I don't have anythin' to do. And you been workin' all day, not payin' a lick of attention to me." You whine, voice growing higher the more you dropped your weight on him until he slammed his tablet down, spinning to look at you, causing you to slip off his back and fall to the ground, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Edward stood up, looming over you, causing your hands to slip out from under you as you attempted to keep looking up at him, "You...are an incessant pest. Are you truly so lascivious that you would beg at my heel like a common bitch in heat for a sliver of affection? Are you truly nothing more than a dog waiting for her owner to praise?"
Your lip quivered, swallowing thickly, "That's not true..."
"Isn't it?" He asked rhetorically, bending down, taking your face in his hands, pinching your jaw, "So if I were to check, your panties wouldn't be sopping wet? Is that the lie you want to tell yourself?"
"I...that's not true!" You deny, shaking your head vehemently, chewing on your lip as you whine.
Crying out in surprise as Edward picks you up, surprisingly strong, and hauls you over his shoulder, carrying you over to the bed perched in the corner. Tossing you onto it, he doesn't let you crawl away before his hand wraps around your ankle and he's pulling you towards the edge onto your hands and knees.
"You wanted to whine, and beg, and play like a dog, so I'm going to treat you like a dog." He states, hands already pulling down the little shorts you wore around his lair when you wanted his attention; not that you were complaining.
"Eddie," You whimpered as he pulled away, only for a moment to push his own shorts down before lining up and pressing in without fanfare. Your eyes rolling back as he doesn't waste a second before setting a brutal pace that had you seeing stars. "Eddie...Eddie..."
"What's wrong, darling? Is that all it takes? A little dick and you're already going dumb on my cock? All you can remembers my name? Not that there was much in that brain of yours to start with," He mocks, gripping your hair as a makeshift leash, craning your head back."
"Eddie...Eddie..." You moan, rocking back against him, fingers curling in the messy sheets as his grip tightened. His free hand going to your waist, digging his fingers into the soft pudge of your hips.
"That's it pretty girl. There should be nothing else on that stupid little brain of yours than me and my name. Nothing else matters." He grunted, leaning forward, pressing against your back as his hand slid around your throat. He squeezed just enough to make your head dizzy, until your arms shook and slipped out from under you. "After all, that's all you are good for, isn't it? Nothing more than a pretty hole for me to fuck at my pleasure, whenever I want."
You nodded vehemently, not even entirely sure what you were agreeing to as your mind went fuzzy. Your senses dulled until all you could feel, all you could see, all you could hear was him. Heat coiling deep within you like a tight spring, begging for the tension to snap and bring your release.
Edward pulled your head back, leaning it against his shoulder as he thrust harder, deeper. His movements growing sloppier as his own peak approached, angling his hips just right to drag his cock along your g-spot.
"Come on pretty girl. Cum for me. Destroy those petty brain cells more like the cock drunk fool you are." He ordered, snapping his hips once, twice, three times before you screamed. Your vision going black as you came violently.
When you came too, you were bundled within the blankets on the bed, fan going, lights dark, and the soft tapping of the keyboard in the background.
✨💋 If my little smutty scribbles made you smile (or maybe kept you up in other ways 😉), consider buying me a coffee or slipping a tip into my CashApp @ distantlydreaming. Every bit of love keeps the words flowing, fuels the late-night fantasies, and means the world to me. Plus, I do commissions for anyone wanting something ultra specific, or perhaps individualized or private.💖✨
the "i definitely do NOT have feelings for them in any way shape or form" while obviously crushing on them trope might be cliché to you. it's about being doomed from the start, the desperate denial of the starved self, the tragic inevitably of love to me tho
"i'm not in love with them" oh, honey. you are already so ruined. you have been ruined from the moment you met, and you will be ruined long after you part. your attempts to hide are futile. you cannot escape that which is everywhere and everything. love as a punishment, love as a death sentence. love as god.
prompt for riddler- when he first notices you or first kiss/time
pairing: riddler x reader
-> any riddler will do - well, any riddler that fits in the middle of a venn diagram with 'overly confident little rat man' and 'pathetic wet catboy meow meow', so unburied, btaa, arkhamverse but pre-asylum when he still has an ounce of joy still in him, btas? gotham? if you squint?, and comicverse (but specifically his oneshot in joker's asylum 2 im not immune ok?)
summary: the meet-cute you'd expect - love at first hostage situation 🥰😍
a/n: riddler falling in love at first sight for NO reason is simply canon actually, in at least 3 different universes (typically to not-great conclusions <33 but <33 whatever <33 peace and love <33)
cw: murder~ 🤗 (don't get it twisted, i made be writing him as a 110% simp but he does still kill innocent people <3 love that for him - good enrichment)
You were never going to the bank again.
And, not to victim blame yourself, but honestly you were wondering what the fuck were thinking 1) going to the bank in person instead of online, like some grandpa, and 2) going to the bank in person in Gotham Fucking City, crime capital of the goddamn universe.
Honestly, it was more surprising that, after living here for almost a year, this was the first time you found yourself tangled up in some supervillain nonsense. Somehow, you actually might just be the luckiest bastard in all of Gotham.
Further proof of that? You were all being held hostage by the Riddler - but not as pawns-to-be for one of his traps for the Batman. No, just all sitting on the floor, lining the walls of the bank as his henchmen (goons?) filled bags with money. Maybe that's why everyone was being so compliant; apart from the fact this was essentially an hourly occurrence in Gotham, everyone here seemed to understand this was probably the best run-in they could ask for. Riddler didn't really bother with 'people'; he didn't think them worthy of his time.
"I truly must applaud you all for perhaps being the most civil group of hostages I've had the pleasure of threatening."
Even the way he praised was condescending, yet genuine at the same time. Bizarre.
"Perhaps my superior intellect has radiated off me, permeating the ignorant masses and keeping them from doing anything terribly stupid."
No, just condescending.
"But rest assured, you frightened, doe eyed little mammals - lest the fear or intimidation I trigger cause you to act irrationally. I have no interest in the likes of any of you - obviously. Though, statistically speaking, I am sure there is one, perhaps even two, among you with enough base level intellect to ponder: Mr. Riddler, sir, what are you - busy as you must be using your superior intellect to plan intricate traps to bring the Bat Brained Vigilante to his pathetic knees - doing here? Among the unwashed masses? Why are you out here performing such barbaric crimes more suited to the likes of, say, Harvey Dent?"
As irritating as his words were, he did have a point. Unlike other rogues, when Riddler showed his face, it was all for Batman. He didn't interact with, let alone care about, Gotham's citizens enough to be bothered with them (save for the poor souls that get taken as bait). Only Batman was worthy of his time and attention (barely, he would argue).
"Well, you silly little troglodytes, the answer is simple! What would I be doing, taking precious time and even more precious brain power away from meticulously planning out, expertly crafting, and perfectly executing my ingenious schemes?" He held out his arms, spinning around in dramatic flourish. No one spoke up, but you guess that's how he wanted it, because without missing a beat, he continued "Well, such innovative and skillful displays don't pay for themselves!"
He chuckled, more like giggled, actually.
It was almost cute.
And you chose not to linger on that thought too long, because obviously it was just the adrenaline and fear talking.
As his giggles wound down, he let out a tired sigh. "Oh, but the mind - the capable, intelligent one, mind you - requires stimulation." And just as quickly as he sunk into a pout, he bounced back - practically jumping on his feet as he straightened up and pointed at a random person across the room from you with his cane. He moved it along the line, seemingly counting until he stopped on someone. Some gangly young man with thick rimmed glasses, wearing a suit that was at least one size too big as he held his leather briefcase to his chest.
"Riddle me this!"
"Oh my gosh, he said the thing!" Some young teen whispered excitedly to their friend, who were both sitting a few people down from you. Some of the other hostages turned to glare at the duo - most in annoyance, a few in fear of what would happen in retaliation. But you were staring at your captor. You noticed that, even though he was facing away, you could see from his profile that the corner of his mouth twitched up in delight. Other than that, he made no move to show he even heard the kids, simply continuing to pace about and rant. He must really enjoy soaking up any ounce of attention.
"How is seven different from the rest of the numbers between one and ten?"
"Wh-uh, it's uh w-well it's a, uhm, a prime number? Mr. Riddler, sir?"
"Very good!" The criminal praised, and the young man let out a breath - almost even beginning to smile, until Riddler continued. "At remembering the proper way to address your superiors. The answer, however? Was incorrect."
"Wh- but it is! It's true-!"
"I didn't say it wasn't true, I said it was not the answer to my riddle."
"B-But I'm still right, right? So-"
"Wrong~!"
The Riddler said it with such a chipper voice, something akin to a game show host. Between that, his beaming smile, and his altogether not totally intolerable attitude during this hostage situation, all of you actually managed to be shocked when the supervillain whipped out a pistol and shot the innocent man point blank.
As a few of you began to scream, and cry, Riddler's smile dropped. He let his head roll back as he groaned dramatically. "Oh, come on, and you were all being so docile up until this point. It was refreshing, honestly." He sighed, resting his chin in the palm of his hand - the same one that currently had a pistol dangling from his purple-gloved pinkie. "Ah, well, can't expect much from the neanderthals that inhabit this cesspool of a city. You!"
The gun twirled around in his hand, until he was holding it properly again - properly meaning aiming it at an older woman's tear soaked face. "It-It has two syllables!" She screamed, her arm wrapped tightly around her child - who clung desperately to her.
The Riddler's brows actually rose up. "I'm surprised," he acquiesced, before stepping up to her and leaning down. Then he stage-whispered, teasing but still wanting everyone to hear the bad news. "But you get a different riddle."
Her eyes widened as she began to scream and cry, mumbled hiccups of 'I don't know any others' passed through her lips, but of course that did little to deter the supervillain who finally found the entertainment he wanted, as his goons (henchmen?) finished collecting the necessary cash.
"Now, listen carefully," he said with a musical lilt. His other hand moved the top of his hooked cane under her chin, lifting it up to look at him. He didn't want her to lose just because she wasn't paying attention. That wouldn't feel properly victorious at all. "First you eat me, then you get eaten. What am I?"
She sputtered, and a few other people began to shout out answers (or demands he leave her alone), but Riddler was hard focused on the sobbing woman in front of him.
"Imagine if I shot you for every wrong answer that was being shouted out with such ill placed bravado," He shouted, scolding the crowd. "As such, I wouldn't count on them for assistance. Come on, use that little brain of yours, get those hamster wheels turning." He pressed the barrel of the gun flat to her forehead, making her child scream. "Tick tock, dear."
"No no no please no I don't-!"
He curled his finger around the trigger, to the sounds of uproar from the rest of the crowd. He didn't expect anyone to spare two brain cells to rub together and answer a riddle correctly, but that's not where he got his joy. He found it in being so provably better than everyone else. He spoke with that game show host timbre again: "Is that your final answer?"
With his words, he twirled his cane again, and for some reason, some how, something clicked in you - as you watched the gold, question mark shaped object spin under the fluorescent lights.
"H-Hook," you practically choked on the word as you struggled to spit it out, anxiety gripping your throat tight. "F-Fish hook," you corrected quickly, as the room fell silent.
Eyes began to turn to you; the mother and child were hopeful that you saved them from a horrible tragedy, but the Riddler...
He had turned his head slowly, rage beginning to bubble in his veins at his crescendo being squashed. A symphony ending on an off-key. The whole interaction was now wrong and it made him want to scratch his damn skin off - but someone else's would do just fine.
But then, through that purple domino mask, he saw you.
You, sitting there so innocuously, he hadn't even spared you a glance when he waltzed in. Though he could scarcely believe that now, just look at you. Your hair, your eyes, your skin - the way the light shining in from the broken window behind you looked like a halo. You were an angel walking on Earth.
Keeping pets was more Cobblepot's tendency, but Edward simply had to have you.
To the relief of everyone in the room, The Riddler twirled his pistol right back into its holster as he sauntered over. "Hello hello," he greeted, reaching out for your hand.
Unsure of what else to do in a volatile situation like this, you acquiesced.
He brought your knuckles up and kissed them - like a gentleman - before using his grip to tug you up to your feet with more strength than you thought a man with his stature would have.
"A pleasure to meet you."
"Um..." Between the lingering threat of death holstered at his hip, and the way his eyes were simply beaming at you from behind his little mask, you responded with a cautious and (hopefully) placating "...likewise...?"
"Is that a question?"
You couldn't tell if he said that as a threat, or if he - given his whole... shtick - appreciated it.
"Right, well, I mean, you were keeping me hostage-"
"Holding," he corrected, "carefully, earnestly, thoughtfully."
You analyzed his every word, because that's who The Riddler was. Intelligent, meticulous, and annoyingly quick witted in a way that would have him dropping hidden meaning on the fly.
This meant, in turn, that you had to be quick witted. Quick witted enough to solve a riddle while under duress. Quick witted enough to keep the attention of the supervillain to the point where he didn't feel bored enough to kill you - but not so arrogant he felt insulted or threatened enough to kill you.
Unfortunately, you wouldn't describe yourself as intelligent. At least, not in the way that the green clad man in front of you would define it. Riddles were certainly not your forte; you only got this one right by sheer luck. Not to mention, half the time his riddles were rigged to begin with (not that he'd admit it), because he'd do anything to maintain his ego.
In short, you were currently trapped by his attention. Locked under the unwavering, and unexpectedly flirtatious, gaze of an ego-centric villain that required you to hit the sweet-spot of not dumb, but not too smart.
Unfortunately, as your thoughts raced in a panic - stuck in this life or death situation - it allowed no time for thoughts to form to words.
"...Uh-"
Luckily, Edward simply didn't allocate any time for you to respond. "I can help create, or destroy. Not a fire, but I spark and ignite a flame. Not air, but I can power your brain. Not blood, but I run through your veins. What am I?"
The sirens of a few GCPD cars were suddenly heard outside. Riddler pulled up the green sleeve of his jacket and checked his watch, clicking his tongue before admitting through his teeth, "Right on schedule."
The four goons walked up to him, each with three duffel bags full of cash hanging off them. "This enough, boss?"
"It is exactly enough!" He spat back in response, clearly agitated at the insinuation he wouldn't have calculated exactly how much money he required.
His brought his attention back to you. The furrow of your brow, the wide eyed gaze, your hands clenched nervously at the fabric of your clothing.
"Well," he offered a proper bow. "Until next time."
"...NEXT T-?!"
"Ta ta, my dear!"
Somewhere, in all the chaos and confusion of being a hostage in a bank robbery, being singled out by a local supervillain, and an array of GCPD cruisers showing up with an amount of sirens akin to a sensory nightmare - somewhere amidst all of that, as your brain disassociated in every other way, you felt the lingering press of a tentative kiss to your cheek.
He'd watched the cogs in your head turn to a sweet rhythm of contemplation. The proverbial hamster charmingly spin in its wheel. It was... adorable.
Which, in turn, was odd. As Edward didn't find most things, let alone people, adorable.
Which, in turn, was exciting.
Despite gossip to the contrary, Edward had found himself infatuated a handful of times before. It was hard not to get... invested when he ran into someone actually tolerable, worth his time, interesting.
And you were interesting. Cute, to boot.
Naturally, it took no time at all upon his return to his current accommodations to gather all important preliminary data about you. Full name, educational background, friends and family, work, various social media, your library check out history. Anything and everything he needed to move onto the next step. Which was see you again.
Your schedule was easy enough to deduce from all the information so readily available online (not to mention the information he had to give a little technical nudge to get access to). As per usual, his genius intellect saved him from having to waste money hiring some sketchy middle-man to get your information for him. The thought sent a flash of irritation through him. What a horrid fate that would be for you, some perfect stranger having access to all that information on you. At least he was just doing his research, he could be trusted with what he found. But some common Gothamite moron? Perish the thought.
No, as always, he was - to everyone's benefit - quite capable himself. Information acquired, next meeting easy enough to set up, and then the final step: get you to fall madly in love with him.
It was so much easier to uncover the puzzle of another person when they actually want to be around you, after all.
And you did do the cutest little scrunch of your nose when you were thinking particularly hard.
hiii i uploaded this ai audio of stanford era!sam x reader on soundcloud and i wanted to share it with you (i literally love your blog and i thought you might like it) 🫶
https://on.soundcloud.com/RCUyNhWUd3dUJUVw9
Holy Jesus this is acc amazing excuse the fuck out of you
Especially if they're uneven or crooked Let me touch? Your teeth. The teeth in your mouth I want to touch them. Please. Me touch your teeth?? Please let me. I want to touch your teeth.
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