Edward Nashton X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Requesting rules!!!🤍🤍

I can write for fem reader and gn reader

I won’t write

-smut ( maybe in the future 😏 lol)

-non-con

-inc3st

-any weird crap

-p3do

I will write

-fluff

-Angst

- angst/comfort

- I am ok with dark themes like stalking and yandere

( as long as my blog stays alive I’ll be adding to the list of things I won’t and will do)

Dano Characters I will write for

Edward nashton (The Batman)

Calvin wer-fields (Ruby sparks)

Dwayne hoover (Little Miss Sunshine)

Tim klitz (the girl next door)

Simon feck ( knight and day)

(I Hope to expand in the future for more actors and characters 😩)

Reminder I am a student so be patient with me and I tend to procrastinate a bit 😔

I know this isn't as good as the one last time, but I promise I'm gonna make a better one soon, just so y'all wait, but I gotta pick up my mental stability first.

every breath you take ❥ edward nashton

GET IT ??2 LIKE THE POLICE SONG?2?? WHERE THEY GO "i'll be watching you..."

anyways :')

《♡》

summary // riddler always has everything planned, from the moment his plot begins up until the day after it has happened. he expects himself to be able to expect everything, until his mind is taken elsewhere during a routine stakeout on the police response to his latest hit...

warnings // stalking, profanity, mentions of violence and death, so very angsty... part 2 is much better i promise

author's note // gOD I FUCKinG love the edward nashton sees pretty person and goes absolutely feral trope... so good n nice. i do not condone stalking. he's creepy af in this, but i'm mentally ill so i dig that! also, eddie's a journalist in this, which i believe is canon as of the 2022 movie, but if i'm wrong deal with it ig LMFAO sorry

《♡》

The rain pounds, rhythmic, against the windshield of the car, interrupted only by the periodic screeching of faulty wipers. The figure behind the wheel slumps down into his damp coats, now finding himself faced with the first dilemma of the night he hadn't prepared for.

Does he leave the wipers on, letting the sound bombard his ears until it inevitably sends him into yet another unjustified, white-hot rage? Or, does he shut them off, and sacrifice what might be his only chance at a good view of the show? He tugs his lip between his teeth, rolling his head back against the seat theatrically as he ponders his options.

Squeeaaak.

He turns the radio up just a little bit louder, and rolls up the driver's side window all the way. It drowns out the sound, but only just barely enough to satisfy him. As tires squeal a few streets ahead and the avenue around him is painted red and blue, it occurs to him that he might not even be sitting out here for very long anyway.

Men pour from their police cars into the intersection, losing their typical law-enforcing rigidness to the chaos that has just been wrought upon Gotham. Even with the radio up, the windows shut, and the god-awful sound of the wipers, Nashton could hear them barking orders to one another from his place a few streets down. It was everything he'd expected, the exact image that played in his mind some nights ago when he sat awake scribbling the details of this exact plan out in his notebook. The place, the time, the disorderly yelling, the panic— hell, even the rain. Everything is falling into place, right before his very eyes.

And it thrills him. The show has officially begun.

A delighted smile creeps across his face, his eyes widening in childlike glee. It was these moments, he decides then, that he lived for. He reaches for his backpack on the passenger seat and fumbles for his binoculars and remote. He's just a few seconds behind his schedule— the time spent basking in his genius was, admittedly, not accounted for in the scheme— and if this is truly to work he must act fast. With one hand he yanks out the binoculars, and his fingers graze the cool plastic of the detonator right as he hears the first cue.

"Come out with your hands up! Step out of the vehicle!" It's muffled by the distance and the steady downpour, but he knows it when he hears it. In milliseconds he has the binoculars raised to his eyes, his sights locked in, laserfocused, on the scene unfolding in the street.

His symbol glares at him from the side of the van halted in the center of the intersection. The spray paint bleeds a bit in the rain, but he almost likes it better that way. Nevertheless, he knows the paint job was... temporary, anyway.

"I will not repeat myself again! Show me you hands!" Nashton licks his lips. His grip tightens dangerously around the detonator, watching the officer approach the dummy in the driver's seat.

"Sir, can you hear me! Do you need medical attention?" the officer calls from a disappointingly safe distance. Nashton predicted a standoff, but it's still just as much of a letdown as if he hadn't. He pulls out the remote and sets it in his lap as he hears a chorus of voices calling for an EMS, faced now with the weight of the three long minutes and, give or take, twenty-eight seconds it takes an ambulance to travel from Gotham Community Hospital to Grange Street— with light traffic, of course. It was commuting hours, after all.

Now antsy, Edward scans the crowd that's gathered around his scene. A morbid sense of accomplishment pools low in his gut as he takes in not only the size of the crowd, but the state of it. Men, women, and children, from all walks of life, all gathered on the corner of Grange and Second to watch his story unfold. On each face are eyes like saucers, and mouths hanging delightfully with anxiety or moving hastily, asking questions. His eyes drift across the crowd, not stopping on any face in particular. He knows he can't allow himself to humanize these people, not with the knowledge of what is about to come.

When his gaze lands on you the first time, toward the front of the pack and forced between an officer and a police barricade, his mind doesn't immediately register what he's looking at. It takes a second, maybe two, until his head snaps back to your direction in a double-take.

And there you are. Front and center in his mind now, tucked into a down raincoat and clutching your journalist's pad to your chest, there you are. Watching with baited breath as the Riddler's latest explosive, proudly his most powerful yet, sits in a van not even five feet from you. Blissfully unaware of your proposed imminent death, and without any realistic means of escape once it arrives.

The ambulance comes roaring in, and the crowd parts, a Red Sea of future civilian casualties, to allow its passage. Panic lodges in his throat as he gropes for the remote detonator. His time is running out. He knows that. Law enforcement is going to discover the doll, and then they're going to open the back of the van. The show must go on.

His breathing is shallow as the first EMT approaches the driver's side of the vehicle in his peripheral vision. Somewhere deep within himself, he knows he must detonate the bomb, but no longer is he prepared for it. A new scene plays in his mind as he's paralyzed there, his sight locked on your face. In his head its beautiful shape contorts with unprecedented fear, illuminated by the burst of firelight from the backside of the van. When they pry it open, you'll be the among first to see the wires and tanks of gas. Will it register in your head what is to come before you're wiped from this plane of existence by flaming death? What will the office look like, decorated by your memorial— the flowers, the photos, the obituary? How could he ever show his face at work again, knowing exactly who is at fault for your empty desk?

"No," he pleads into the empty car. "Please, move..." His thoughts are frantic, running through his options too quickly to effectively address any of them.

The paramedics open the driver's side door. The doll falls out.

"Move, just fucking move!" Detonator in hand, he pounds on the dashboard. His vision is blurred, either by new tears pooling in his eyes or sheer unbridled panic. "MOVE! MOVE! FUCKING MOVE!"

He positions his thumb over the button on the remote as police and S.W.A.T. encircle the vehicle. Deciding he can't watch, he leans forward and rests his head on the steering wheel. All of the yelling from outside, the rain, the classical music from the radio, all of it— it ceases to exist against his sobbing. He sobs so loud and so hard he feels his ribs becoming sore.

He knows what he must do. The show must go on.

Click. Boom.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

There was no more elaborate escape. No starting the car and speeding off into the night, high off of the adrenaline of it all. No victorious joyride while the news report plays quietly in the background. None of it.

He lost track of how long he'd spent there, face pressed into the steering wheel, remote in hand. He'd cried until his entire body collapsed and his tear ducts went dry.

When he finally lifts his head, his forehead is sticky with sweat and his neck cracks uncomfortably. He lets the remote fall to the floorboard, unclenching his hand for the first time in what must have been hours. With one destination in mind, he turns the key in the ignition and the car roars to life.

He hesitates, frozen again as he stares at the intersection before him. The site of the blast was impressive to say the least, still blackened with soot despite the rainfall. His eyes drift to approximately where you were standing, and a chill shoots through his body to find the ground completely charred. What might have been left of the van was already cleaned and hauled off. It’s as if it never happened.

Maybe it didn’t happen. Maybe if he just goes about his night as he usually would— stopping by your apartment, sitting in his car across the street for an hour or so, watching you through the street-facing window as you sit at your desk and run through computer work or have your dinner— he can pretend that he didn’t just blast you into a million little pieces in the middle of a crowded intersection. With enough convincing, he can almost believe that the sweet soul who offered him coffee once on his third day at the press office, who still smiles at him when they catch his gaze lingering, who moves with beauty and intrigue like he’d never witnessed before is not truly lost in this universe quite yet.

He was never able to understand quite what it was that drew him into you. It was instinctual, primal, and so very sudden. Once he realized his obsession, he supposed that it was just the way of things. Flies go to honey, moths chase the light, and Edward Nashton occupies every available thought with his breathtaking coworker. Now though, as he’s speeding down Gotham’s dreary side streets, he finally gets it.

All he’s ever seen in people is their worst. Why else would he spend so much energy cleansing the city of its scum?

But no matter how much time he spent observing you, listening to you, reading your work, or turning you over and around and inside out in his mind, there wasn’t a single flaw that presented itself. Not even your mortal shortcomings sounded any alarm in his head. It was maddening, trying to find something he could theoretically dislike about you, anything to shake this schoolboy crush that had manifested in his conscience, because nothing ever came to light. You’d only ever been kind to him. You’d only ever been beautiful. You’d only ever been absolutely perfect.

And he knew you’d always be. Even in death, he knew that this version of you that is forever preserved in his mind is just as perfect and real as when you were alive. That’s the conclusion he comes to as he sits in his usual spot across from your apartment tonight, staring up into your window and mumbling his shaky apologies under his breath.

It hasn’t set in yet. The room is dark, and the curtains are drawn. You aren’t home.

He lets himself fall quiet as he listens to the city around him. How empty it seems without you in it. The radio babbles on to fill the silence.

…inside a van on the intersection at Grange and Main, six officers and three civilians were hospitalized. While one of the officers has reportedly succumbed to his injuries, his name has not yet been released to the public…

He stares at the radio system, breath picking up.

He saw the aftermath of the explosion. The sheer sprawl of the immediate blast should have killed anyone within a radius of seven feet. According to his evaluation, he expected at the very least three deaths on-site and five more officer hospitalizations. His brow furrowed, deep in thought, as he ran through the events of the night.

He parked his car in position. Law enforcement arrived. They called for an ambulance. EMT discovers the dummy. They opened up the van. He hesitated, but he detonated the bomb.

He hesitated.

He hesitated.

“Oh my God,” he breathes, eyes wide with disbelief, “It didn’t work. It didn’t fucking work.”

With trembling fingers, he shoves the key back into the ignition and starts the car again. The radio continues.

…no civilian deaths have been reported, and the three victims remain in stable condition. In other news, Gotham and surrounding cities will be seeing a temperature drop…

《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》《♡》

PART TWO

I. the world is a curse, it'll kill if you let it

Summary: Edward Nashton, your weird, solitary, coworker, has been in your mind a lot lately, an obsession that is clearly reciprocated. What happens when your paths inevitably cross?

word count: 7700k (not beta'd, sorry)

warnings for this chapter: soft!dark!edward (talks of depression, anxiety and self-hatred. alcohol and drug abuse. implied bullying, stalking, mysogyny and incel shit in general (hello, it's the Riddler). masturbation, hallucinations and voyeurism. do not interact if you're under 18.

Edward Nashton gets under your skin without you even noticing it. 

It’s the way he stares, at first. That is what catches your attention. The forcefulness of his eyes, so unashamed, makes you look away, embarrassed. You sometimes wonder if he does it on purpose to make you uncomfortable, a hint of annoyance at his lack of restraint. But he is excessively shy, quiet, a bit disturbing, yes, but mostly, just Edward Nashton from accounting. Harmless, despite what other people around the office like to suggest. 

Keep reading

II. I'M ALREADY HIGH ENOUGH, I ONLY GOT EYES FOR YOU

Summary: A night-out quickly gets out of hand when an incident puts you in the Riddler's path.

word count: 16k (for someone who's bad at smut I sure write a lot of it)

warnings for this chapter: soft!dark!edward, stalking, voyeurism, use of sedatives with the intention of sexual abuse (not done by Edward), alcohol and drug abuse, SMUT, dom!reader/sub!edward, masturbation, loss of virginity, female receiving oral, degradation kink, overstimulation, unprotected sex. do not interact if you’re under 18.

A/N: uhhh. this is not good, me thinks. but i'm glad I finished something. even made a playlist for it! if you're glad too, please reblog and tell me all about it! bye folks, see you next time <3

READ ON AO3!

It’s a complicated and unique chain of events that usually sends you into a spiral that leads to a bender. 

It starts with a trigger — something simple, like a mundane situation, an inconvenience or annoyance that wouldn’t even be noticed by someone who had their shit together, someone who’s not as sensitive as you are. Today, it’s a Friday night, and you’re already on edge. It’s a mixture of FOMO-inducing anxiety and boredom, and as always, a bit of loneliness, too. 

Keep reading

those FREAKS who wrote non con for the riddler are writing p3do fics. Literally just saw one where the reader was 14 and was hooking up the Edward who is like 30. It’s not okay someone needs to come get their kids 😟

Holy fucking shit I wish I didn’t believe you, but I just know it’s true. Parents need to start checking their kids phones again because it is TRULY getting out of hand. People just want to fuel their sick fantasies and if they want to do it so fucking badly just write that shit in the notes app and keep it private. The whole world doesn’t want to know what kind of fucking freak you are. At the same time I’m concerned for these people’s well-beings because what happened in your life to make you WANT to write these r*pe or p*do fics, and enjoy reading them?

kinktober day xxii. VOYEURISM – edward 'riddler' nashton

idea from my lovely bf xoxo @standloser word count: ~1.2k tags: both pervy eddie & reader, male masturbation, teasing, somewhat exhibitionism, and they were co-workers masterlist | ao3

Edward’s breath catches at the sight of your bare shoulders– watching from beyond the crack of the locker room’s door. You had just finished your weekly visit to your office building’s gym– a place Edward didn’t even know existed until he decided he wanted to ‘accompany’ you on your way out of work.

You tended to be alone in your late-night excursions here, and that’s what you preferred– time to decompress after getting chewed out by your shared dimwit boss. You and Edward had adjoining desks on the same level at KTMJ, working the numbers of Gotham. The two of you had never actually exchanged words, but you always remembered his coffee order when it was your turn to pick it up– that was more than enough to get him hooked.

His eyes would always dart over your desk, taking in all of the knick-knacks and post-its that cluttered the space– Edward would smile to himself at how easy it was to figure out what you’re like, all while you were none the wiser. All your little intricacies were on full display for him, and, well, you were never the most careful about locking your computer when you left your station. There’s a plethora of secrets that would, more often than not, be considered not safe for work in that drive of yours.

All this to say: Edward felt a certain sense of possessiveness over you, and that baseline primal urge was not something he could resist. That’s how he finds himself ogling at your form, hidden by the darkness of the hallway outside the changing rooms. He hasn’t unzipped his slacks just yet, no– you hadn’t even taken off your sports bra yet.

You weren’t as unobservant as Edward pegged you to be– you were more than aware of his borderline obsession with you. Every time you left your desk to go to the bathroom, you purposefully left your computer available for his perusing– leaving your rather unsavory browser history uncleared. Maybe you didn’t actually browse porn at work, but you liked to leave little breadcrumbs for him– you knew that he couldn’t help but imagine you in such predicaments that you’d search.

Edward needed just a bit of a push in the right direction, so you made sure he knew where you were headed after work so often. 

You knew he was watching your every move, so you decided to give him as much of a show as you could. Agonizingly slow, you peel your bra off your damp body. Edward couldn’t see your breasts from this angle yet, but he still had to stifle a moan at your delicate movements.

He bit his lip as you bent over– the way your leggings fit your curves perfectly was almost too much. Edward felt his cock twitch at the immediate thought he had of grabbing your hips, pulling you back onto his hardness over and over– grinding against your clothed behind until he came all over the taut fabric.

You pulled the leggings down slowly, and he quietly whined as he saw your panties. At this point, Edward knew he was close without even having to touch himself.

Acting as if you didn’t hear the pathetic noise from just beyond the cracked door, you stand up straight and turn to face the floor-length mirror before you. Edward swiftly pulled out his cock from the confines of his now too-tight work pants as soon as he finally saw your bare breasts on display. He watches through lidded eyes as you trace the curves of your body, idly wondering if you checked yourself out like this often– did you touch yourself in front of a mirror as well?

Seating yourself on the bench, your closed legs still hide your arousal– if you showed him, would he notice how wet you were from all of this? How badly you wanted him to take you right then, lack of pleasantries exchanged aside?

You could see that familiar glint of his glasses in the dark, and you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. He stares at your perfect thighs, just waiting for the moment when you’d tear them open– he knows it’s greedy, but he needs to see all of you. You can hear that obvious, yet quiet, sound of Edward pleasuring himself, and you hold back a smirk as you open your legs.

He whimpers, stuttering in his ministrations, as he sees what he believes to be a patch of wetness on your grey panties– were you wet? How fucking lucky did he get? Edward’s mouth hangs open as his wrist feels as though it may cramp from just how fast he’s going. Peering down at himself for a moment, he sees that familiar bead of precum and makes no hesitation to spread it over his reddened tip– only making him closer to that depraved orgasm he so needed.

Edward watches as you move your hands down your legs, seeming like you may be about to pull your work pants back on– he couldn’t waste this opportunity so lovingly presented to him. The sounds increase, both from his movements and his voice, and you betray yourself– you catch that glint in the dark through the reflection.

It was only for a split second, and Edward knew there was definitely no way you could see him, but despite it all– he spilled all over his hand, as well as the tiled floor. His breath, harsh and ragged, would’ve made his presence more than obvious to you, had you not known already– Edward wasn’t as covert as he’d like to think.

As he hears your shuffling in the locker room, he zips himself back up and quickly grabs a crumpled tissue from his jacket pocket– wiping the evidence from his hands. Glancing down, he sees the rest of it on the floor but ultimately decides to just wipe it away with his shoes. Edward leans against the wall, chest still heaving with every breath.

“Oh, hey, Edward!” You stepped out of the locker room, your sudden presence causing him to stand up straight. “I didn’t know you went to the office gym!”

He stutters, wiping his sweaty palms on his jacket, “I, well… yes? I do now, yes…”

You smile politely, the satisfaction of seeing him so frazzled was more than enough, “That’s great, I thought I was the only one using it!”

“Mhm…” Edward looked as if he’d seen a ghost, but he couldn’t deny the tightness slowly returning in his slacks, “It’s, uh… extremely underutilized, yes.”

“You must’ve had a good workout, huh? You’re all sweaty!” You begin to walk past him, swinging your work bag over your shoulder. “Sucks that they don’t provide us with showers too, right?”

He continues to try and stutter out a response as you make your way to the stairwell, but all he can muster out is a pathetic ‘yup,’ long after you have left.

Thinking about dressing Edward up in a collar and leash, dragging him around his shitty apartment while he crawls behind you. Making him hump a pillow or your leg just so you can giggle and make fun of him for cumming like that. Shoving his nose in the mess he made and calling him a very bad dog, only giving him the praise he so desperately craves once he licks it up.

don't you wanna be nobody every once in awhile - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW) ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚♡

{contents ♡ very minor angst, choker wearing, pillow humping, praise/degradation mix}

{word count ♡ ~800}

{author's note ♡ i took a sort of softer approach with this one because that's what i as the author needed atm, but rest assured that freaky and mean requests are always welcome.}

♡ every night was like a scratched, skipping record, looping the same little riff until you were sure it had driven you hysterical. why was edward so insistent on seeing the skin he was in as distorted and alien when you saw it as a warm safe haven? why was he so dead set on ripping his body limb from limb when in your eyes, each splatter of freckle, each wisp of hair, each pale purple vein, each and every piece of him was just...perfect?

♡ it plucked and pulled at the strings of your heart, the way he treated himself in moments like these. it only happened in the dark. it only happened under the covers. he'd mumble stop or don't if your eyes lingered on his bare skin for too long as he stripped. for the love of god, he was about to be inside of you! this should feel fun, this should feel safe, this should feel nothing short of completely and entirely comfortable. nothing slit the mood's throat faster than sensing that edward was only doing this because you wanted it. that he was gritting his teeth and fighting back against the bitter taste of insecurity coating his tongue the whole time.

♡ so something needs to be done. that much is crystalline.

♡ it starts off slow, gently spoon-fed, made easy to digest. pretty boy. edward seems to quite like that one. you have a small, crackling fire of hope stoking in your heart that maybe he's starting to believe it. that he's so beautiful, edward. so sweet. such a good little angel.

♡ the response is instantaneous. his fingers dig into your hips. his shallow thrusts become deeper, sloppier, hungrier, starved. he bites his lips and tries to conceal his breathy whimpers, but most of them burst through and come spilling out into the warm, heavy air.

♡ and an idea begins to hatch, more and more pieces of the shell popping off and crumbling apart in your brain as edward's whines become more desperate and frenzied. maybe what he needs is a transformation. something real, something tangible to show him just how much of a pretty boy he really is.

♡ and a transformation it truly is when you wrap the soft, velvety choker around his neck. the way his doughy eyes sparkle and stare up at you as you hook the clasp is deliciously delicate. such a flawless picture it is, and you drink it in with passionate thirst.

♡ this is really what he needed the whole time, it was stupidly clear--he needed somebody to grab hold of the reins. if he wasn't going to believe that he was perfect, somebody else was just going to have to do it for him. that was the goal: an opportunity to be your pristine blank slate.

♡ it's adorably pathetic how jumpy and reactive he is to every light, grazing brush of your fingers around his neck or each squeeze on the plush of his thighs. yet still, you're cautious not to push him too far. he wants to feel good on his own terms, yes? then he can just show you. you can be his attentive, captured audience, waiting with wide eyes and bated breath for every next move.

♡ he rolls in shaky, jagged circles against the pillow. he's already slicked with sweat, and the silver heart pendant on his choker makes metallic rings with each desperate thrust forward.

♡ you're watching as his hands grip the sides of the pillow and splotches of the case darken from the thick precum he's dribbling. you're listening to his moans reach higher in pitch with every back and forth sway of his hips. he wants. god, he needs. needs to feel your soft touch, needs to feel the wet warmth of you squeezing around him, needs you to tug on his hair and force him to look at you dead in the beady eyes; i'm your good boy. i'm your needy bitch.

♡ yeah, that's my pretty slut, isn't it? you'd purr to him. his cheeks would be stained with the reddened rivers of overstimulated tears as you held his face in your hands. gonna cum all over yourself? yeah, gonna make a mess for me? dirty, filthy. i didn't even have to touch you. come on, then. let go for me, sweetheart. c'mon, be a good puppy.

♡ it was almost as if the world had lost a slice of film; he came to, panting, heaving, round cheeks an angry, ragged red. and he needs to hear it right away: you were so, so good, eddie. my sweet boy.

♡ he's grinning, a dazed, euphoria-fueled smile slapped across his face as he pulls the pillow away. you'd have to keep this little game in mind the next time he decided to pick apart the pieces of himself again.

The Problem with Smut/Lemons

So I see a lot of these everywhere, and I just feel the need to speak out about something.

Now I understand why people write and read these, but these type of fics just come to a point where it's not okay.

Occasionally I'll see fanfictions that have rape or sex slave kinks with x reader fanfiction. It's not glamorous or okay to imagine being sexually violated. Sure, it may seem "okay," because you like that fictional character, but what if it really happened? IRL?

I know people, myself included, who have experienced some level of sexual violation and it's very traumatizing. To glorify it in this way, with fanfiction, personally annoys me. I respect everyone's freedom to read and write what they want, but we have to be careful about what we're promoting as a community. Especially in light of all the date rape and misogynistic issues we face today. Is this really something we want to be promoting? Why not write about respectable men who respect women?

Not to mention, isn't it disrespectful to the actors who play these characters? Imagine if you were an actress and you found out that men were masturbating to your photos or imagining f-ing you. If you feel uncomfortable when you get cat-called in the street or stared at by men, you ought to be HORRIFIED at these fics, in my opinion.

I just ask that everyone who sees this will try to think about this message and contemplate my point... pls. Have a nice night.

(Y/n): *making dinner*

Edward: *walks into kitchen*

(Y/n): Oh hey! Would you mind handing me the uh...

(Y/n): I forget what it's called....

(Y/n): .. Albino broccoli..?

Edward: ......

Edward: You mean the cauliflower?

i’m sure no one will see this but, feel free to leave paul dano character requests. i wanna try writing some stuff because there isn’t enough content for him at all 😭

Hi hope ur well I was gonna ask Dano riddler stalking the the reader but sees the reader stalking him like ( I imagine them in the same bush and they like :0: you too wow same ) it would be so cute yk if not that’s okay :)))

Have a great day :))

Kindred Spirit

Edward Nashton x Reader - contains stalking

PLEASE GIVE ME CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM EITHER IN COMMENTS OR IN MY ASK BOX <3

WATTPAD LINK

“Is the pumpkin pie any good? I’m new to the city so I’m kinda walking around blindly” they said, gesturing to the plate in front of him.

His head turned to look behind him expecting to see someone else but there was no one. He hesitated to reply, confused as to why someone as beautiful as you or anyone for that matter would bother speaking to him. He must’ve taken too long because your expression changed into an awkward smile.

“Oh I-uh, sorry I'm just a bit tired from work. Yeah the pie here is decent enough.”

“Great, I'll order some. So, what do you do for work?”

You were asking about his life. Almost as if you actually cared to know. Too bad you’d run as soon as you saw his real face. Perhaps he could be content with watching you from afar. A pretty lady like you wouldn’t be so safe in the big city— you would need him.

“I’m a forensic accountant—” he started to explain.

He has such a sweet and unassuming face. He looked like someone you could trust. You were intrigued with him and needed to know more. You’ve decided when he he leaves you’ll follow him and scope him out.

Finishing up the pumpkin pie you both get up to leave at the same time, awkwardly bumping into each other— before he steps aside and waves you on. A true gentleman, how sweet.

“Thanks for keeping me company— shit I totally forgot to ask for your name”

“Oh it’s Edward, Edward Nashton.”

You introduce yourself.

“Well it was nice to meet you Eddie. I hope to see you again”

He blushes all the way to the tip of his ears and down his neck— gently waving goodbye unable to form any words.

He makes his way out of the building, trailing behind you—making sure to maintain a safe distance. You make a sharp turn. Confused he speeds up a bit. Did you know he was following you? He turns the corner, discreetly looking around for any sign of you. He sees you entering the apartment building across from his. Strange he thought. How had he not noticed you before? He watches the windows, waiting to see which belongs to you. Hah what are the chances. This’ll make his job a whole lot easier.

He hangs his plain windbreaker on the coat rack as he enters. He moves towards the window eager to take a peep into your personal life. Aiming the telescope at your window he leans over to look through the lens. He barely knows anything about you, but immediately upon seeing your home— he’s positive that it fits you perfectly. You’re bent over digging through a drawer, clearly looking for something. His eyes wander to admire the curve of your backside. You’ve found what you’re looking for now. Before he could see what it was, you’re at the window looking straight at him.

“Oh Fuck! Shit. Shit. Shit.”

He dives to the floor so fast it makes him light headed. He takes a deep breath before peeking over the windowsill. Are you— are those binoculars? He rises further before seeing you duck out of view. You’re eyes appear in the window and then slowly your whole body. The both of you stare at each other with furrowed brows, trying to make sense of it all. A smile slowly graces his face when he realizes— you too had the urge to observe from afar. You’re smiling back at him now, you’ve found a kindred spirit.

What a Trip - Edward Nashton x F!Reader

Warning: Sexual Content, language

Word Count: 1.9k

Edward had betrayed you but you two still had a trip planned, you couldn't just let a perfectly good trip go to waste.

You and Edward had this planned for months, it was too late to back out now. The trip had cost the both of you quite a bit of money and you both were determined to go on the trip no matter what. When you had found out Edward had some kind of mistress the plan didn’t change. Edward had no idea how you had found out about the women, he had tried everything to hide her from you. He didn’t even know himself why he had the mistress, he blamed it on some feeling of wanting to have multiple people be completely in love with him. He had been crushed over your lack of affection since you found out, he understood why but he craved your touch more than anything. He promptly dropped the mystery woman and begged you to forgive him, but you didn’t listen. He gave you every excuse in the book and you were having none of it. 

“God Edward! Fuck off! Go fuck that other woman, clearly I wasn’t enough for you!” was a common sentence you said when the two of you would fight. 

You were kind enough to let him continue staying with you only with the rules of: he had to pay rent, he had to stay in the guest room, and he had to stay away from you. He didn’t really follow the last rule and took every opportunity to speak to you. He begged you to speak to him, he desperately needed to hear your voice. He missed hearing you praise him for little things, like keeping the apartment clean or getting the mail. Now you basically ignored everything he said to you, the only time you guys would talk is when you were yelling at him for cheating on you. 

He missed your voice so much, especially when you were praising him in between desperate whines and moans. God he could barely take listening to you at night, soft moans occasionally slipping out, some would be cut off with small screams. He knew you were stuffing yourself full with the toy he had bought you not too long ago. He had pressed his back against the wall closest to your room and had a hand around his cock desperately thrusting into it imagining it was you or your mouth. His hand was placed on his mouth, trying so hard to keep the noises in but some would slip out on accident. You knew he was doing it, you knew you shouldn’t enjoy it but you did. You enjoyed the power you had over him, you knew he loved you and wanted to be close to you, but something in your brain couldn’t let you forgive him.

However you also did love him, you wanted to be close to him, god you wanted him to fuck you again. Edward was very inexperienced, the only experience he had was from you and god he was a quick learner. He knew you like the back of his hand and would do anything in his power to have you screaming in seconds. You would sometimes moan his name softly hoping he wouldn’t hear but oh would he hear. He thrived on those moments, hearing you moan his name gave him the small bit of confidence to talk to you constantly, and you secretly enjoyed it. The two of you had been like this for months, you hadn’t filed for divorce, neither of you had the strength to fully leave each other. 

Months passed and the day of the trip showed up quicker than the both of you thought it would. You had plans to spend most of your time on the bench, trying to soak up the glorious sun. That had all changed the moment you walked into the hotel room. You had changed the booking to be a two bedroom but the hotel must have messed something up because when you walked in you saw Edward awkwardly standing in front of the single bed, he looked like he was debating with himself on what to do. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Edward spun around quickly to look at you, he was taken aback by your statement.

“What? No of course not, if anything I’d take the couch.”

“I don’t care who takes what Edward, as long as we’re not next to each other I don’t care.”

God would you eat those words later.

You had set your suitcase down, taking out the bikini you had packed so you could go to the beach. You had plans to lay in the sun that were calling your name and you desperately needed to get away from Edward. His green eyes watched your figure move across the room, from the far side where you had decided to lay your stuff to the opposite side where the bathroom resided. He tried to distract himself, he did, he had packed a good book that he was reading. He was hoping to finish it over the trip, he hadn’t even gotten half way through the first page when you came out of the bathroom in your tiny forest green bikini. God the color perfectly matched his riddler suit, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to a dark place as his pants grew tighter. You walked back across the room to your suitcase, bending down to shuffle through the continents of the bag. When you bent down he could see a slight outline of your pussy and even a bit of it due to the lack of material in the area. God he could feel himself whimper at the sight.

“I’m going to the beach, don’t call.”

With that you walked out the hotel room, leaving with his imagination and his hand.

When you came back to the room, it was empty. You assumed Edward had left until you started to hear sounds in the bathroom, the sounds of a woman’s moans hit you straight in the chest, in your heart. You thought he loved you and yet here he was. On YOUR guys trip, fucking another woman. Tears had begun to form in your eyes as you ran to the other side of the room, trying to grab things as quickly as you could until you heard your own voice, and a moan of your name. Curiosity got the better of you and you peaked your head into the cracked bathroom door, the room was dark except for the light from a laptop that rested on the bathroom counter. The laptop displayed a video of you and Edward fucking, you had remembered recording it but didn’t think Edward still had it. The light from the laptop perfectly lit up Edward’s face, which was scrunched. His eyes were tightly shut and his mouth was hanging open, soft moans were leaving his mouth. One hand was gripping the edge of the counter while the other was gliding up and down his cock. You could tell he was close from his body language, like his trembling legs, unstead hand moments, and even him softly saying “god i’m gonna cum, gonna cum for you baby. Wanna cum all over you y/n.” You’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t say it had turned you on. 

You backed away from the door slightly, wondering what to do when you had froze in your spot. 

“Come on princess, I know you’re there, help me out would you?”

You didn’t think twice before pushing the bathroom door and flipping the lights on. There Edward stood, staring at the ceiling, slowly dragging his hand across his cock. His pants pooled on the floor and on his feet, the laptop laid open on the counter but the video was paused. You carefully stepped further into the bathroom, and slowly sunk to your knees in front of the man. You lifted your hand to meet his cock and wrapped your fingers around him, he looked down at you. You looked up at him through your eyelashes as you began to move your hand up and down his shaft, starting at a slow pace. He gave you a small smirk before letting out a soft moan and looking back up at the ceiling. He had removed his hand from himself and placed it in your hair, making a makeshift ponytail from the locks he grabbed. He lightly pushed you forward, and you got the hint, taking him into your mouth and moving up and down quickly. His groans increased in volume and a few words that consisted of your name and “fuck so good” also fell from his lips. You roughly pulled you back from his cock by your hair and yanked you up to be standing in front of him. The man didn’t have a ton of upper body strength and yet somehow he managed to lift you into his arms and carry you to the single bed in the room.

“You don’t wanna sleep in the same bed? Such a shame, good thing I didn’t plan on having either of us sleep tonight.”

He pulled the bikini cover off your body and then roughly pushed the bottoms to the side. He lightly ran his finger between your folds before grabbing himself and lining himself up with you. He slowly pushed into you, moaning at the warmth that surrounded him. He quickly set a pace with you, thrusting in and out, making you borderline scream his name and drag your nails along his back. He had buried his head into your shoulder and let out heavy pants, along with moans of your name and how good you felt around him. His hand moved from the side of your head to your bikini top, moving it to the side and uncovering one of your tits. He moved his head from your shoulder and quickly took your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. You moaned at the feeling, everything began to build up. The pleasure was too much and it had you cumming around him, but he didn’t stop. He continued to thrust into you and suck on your boob, quickly removing the cover of the other and moving to the other one. The overstimulation had you cumming again in no time, but yet Edward still didn’t stop. This continued several more times, you had lost count of how many times you had cum after the 4th one. It had been hours by this point and Edward had only came 3 times at max. The man was determined to fuck you until you were brain dead, and he was getting close to that point.

By the time had had finished fucking you your legs might as well have been jelly. You couldn’t move them and Edward had to reposition your body to a comfortable lying position. He snuggled in beside you after cleaning you and him up as well as tucking you into the bed. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into his chest. The man truly did love you, and unfortunately for you, you loved him too.