fittytittycity - Tumblr blog

[fittytittycity]

I just logged on to this acct cause I fullass forgot it existed and it’s connected to an old email!!! Wtf all the fics ive posted are,,,,,,so goddamn bad. If ur seeing this- this is a sign to go drink water and make sure u still know the password to all ur old embarrassing accts

[fittytittycity]

Hahaha fuck

I’m back, sorry! Yeet happy new year

[fittytittycity]

Second post in a row about me not posting but here’s the thing-

I’ve postponed writing so long that I’ve become a better writer and now hate the story that I was gonna put out. Between chapters I get better so hopefully the whole ed story is on an upwards trend but like,,,, it’s so hard to read the shit you write (even after only a week) but I have a big story formulating in my brain but I have no idea how to get it together.

Promise a chapter of something soon. Before the 15th. Feel bad cause I keep getting new followers but 💓❤️💕💓❤️

[fittytittycity]

Thank u everyone who’s been following me,,,u the shit. I feel bad getting notifications cause I havnt posted in a while but the next part of my ed fic is nearly out. I’m jus moving house rn so shit is kind of wild lmao. K that’s it If u see this I hope ur having a good day lmao aight

[fittytittycity]

Do u do requests

I absolutely do! And I'd be happy to cause I have like 3 unfinished fics that I'd love an excuse to procrastinate on! I'll write nearly anything

[fittytittycity]

Bullet For My Valentine (Victor Zsasz x reader)

Ight so...I had to delete half of this and rewrite it cause it was gonna be way to long cause this Valentine's series should really just be drabbles but- I think this could be a lot better and I think i will probably reuse this title for another zsasz story in the future but

Ok

The reader is working at a diner the night before Valentine's Day when gothams most efficient assassin decides it's the perfect time to go get some pancakes!

My requests are open

The man at table nine had incredible cheekbones.

Your friend swatted your arm- pulling you from your warm daydream and back to the fluorescent reality of the aluminum clad diner. You willed your gaze away from him- meeting the pained eyes of your fellow coworker, strained in attempted communication.

"I can get Bradley to take table nine if you want." She offered, voice thinned to a nearly silent whisper. You looked back to the man, perfect features posed thoughtfully over the menu, his intense focus disproportionate for someone simply figuring out what kind of pancake to get. How endearing, you thought fondly.

"No, table nine is always my table- it's ok. Isn't it the end of your shift anyway?" You asked innocently, returning your focus back to her. She seemed distressed by your suggestion, but one glance at the February snow beyond the heart bedazzled windows shifted her priorities. So in favor of getting her cold worn feet under a blanket as soon as possible, she abandoned you in a nearly empty diner with Gotham's most ruthless assassin.

It was late in the night, approaching early morning, and the dwindling waitstaff wouldn't be replenished till the four o'clock shift, not that many bodies were required to serve the sparse clientele. It was the man at table nine, and a drunk woman and her coffee at table one (neither moving nor speaking besides small noises of drunken discontent directed at her mug). You stared awkwardly, pouring another cup of coffee in a daze of muscle memory. He was gorgeous, in a sort of eccentric way. His slick head and broad shoulders, clad in black and a passive scowl. He looks like he has soft hands, you mused to yourself. You cursed under your breath, feeling the scorching flow of hot coffee over your fingers as you filled the mug over its brim. You poured out some of the steaming beverage into the sink, dragging your red fingers along your apron. You washed your hands quickly, wiping down the mug and looking back up to make sure your drunken customer hadn't fallen asleep. As you turned you caught his eyes- discovering he was impossibly more striking from the front. The faltering lights dragged shadows down the side of his narrow nose, accenting the noble curve of his pale face. He looked concerned- or did his forehead always crease like that? You decided the latter, turning away to grab the sticky mug, ignoring the imposing feeling of his lingering gaze. You walked briskly past his table, ushering the second mug of coffee against the drunken woman's crossed arms- withdrawing as she stirred back to life. She took the coffee gratefully, and you turned back.

"Hello ,Sir- do you know what you'd like?" You asked quietly, apprehensive to break the increasingly uncomfortable silence of the nearly empty diner. His head pivoted, nearly knocking the wind out of you as his deep-set eyes met yours- dark and intense, momentarily overwhelming.

"Yes, I do." He began, eyes wandering down your apron leisurely- the path of his lazy gaze dragging a trail of goosebumps behind it.

"I'll have the buttermilk pancakes, with extra whipped cream and three cherries."

He finished, ending with a short sharp smile that you couldn't help but mirror. You turned down to scribble his order, eyes deviating from the paper to the strange glint of silver just on your periphery.

"Oh, can I order it off the kids menu? So it looks like Micky Mouse?"

He continued, scanning the menu again in pursuit of a drink. You stood incredibly still, eyes stuck on the metal handle of the pistol nestled tightly to his belt. It wasn't uncommon to see a gun or two every so often in Gotham, even less so to hear one. But never had you seen one so closely-especially not while waitressing. You wondered briefly what he had it for, and why on earth he would bring it into a restaurant.

"Do you want to hold it?"

You snapped back to him, captivated again by his sculpted features rather than the frightening firearm. You flushed pinky, shifting in embarrassment for having been caught ogling. He didn't smile, maintaining eye contact as he reached to unhinge the gun from his side.

"Uh, I don't know- I don't know if I should." You whispered, shooting an anxious glance into the kitchen window, watching the back of the chefs head bob back and forth out of view. You swallowed harshly, fidgeting nervously with the pad and paper as you turned back to him.

"It's fine. I'll take out the bullets."

He convinced, popping six silver cartridges from the holder into his palm, closing his fist around them and depositing them in his pocket. You smiled weakly, nudging the pad onto the table gingerly- feeling shy and small under his focus. You took the gun by its handle, turning it timidly in your hands. It was lighter than you had anticipated and much denser than any machinery you had held before. His eyes lingered on your hands, watching the apprehensive touches along the guns cold barrel, glancing to your eyes to catch any discomfort.

"...Victor."

You whispered, running a careful finger over the engraved cursive. You looked up to him, greeted with a sly smile- splitting his wide face into two handsome halves.

"The other one has my last name." He remarked, eyes still trained carefully on your swaying gaze as you inspected the rest of the firearm. You imagined briefly the feeling of his hand around the grip, the flexion of the muscles of his arm and shoulder as he fired, absorbing the recoil. You looked to his broad shoulders, the tips of your fingers buzzing with the imagined heat of his manly figure- tense and toned from repeated firing. You cleared your throat thoughtfully- catching yourself staring.

"So that's it, buttermilk pancakes with extra whip, three cherries?" You asked, drawing yourself from your careful admiration- setting the pistol on the table quickly.

"And a vanilla milkshake, two straws." He added, drawing the gun back towards his side of the table. You pursed your lips slightly, his monotone request spilling a happy heat into your cheeks as you wrote it down- two straws.

Your feet nudged under the table, rushing warmth up your legs and to your stomach in a wave of energy that tightened your cheeks into a timid smile- eyes dropping from his to the nearly empty milkshake between the two of you. He let you have most of it, though it may have been due to his preoccupation with his stack of pancakes- and his awful habit of inducing brain freezes each time he attempted a sip. He was cordial and talkative- though intense and often vaguely cryptic, his low monotone voice tinting every syllable with a strange clarity and authority. He was dreamy, you admired to yourself, watching his lips curve and purse in missed words.

"Huh?" You clarified, sitting up straight.

"Do you know what day it is?" He asked, toying with the watch on his wrist, putting in the date with high obnoxious beeps.

"The thirteenth of February." You answered, covering your face to mask a deep tired yawn. God how long at you been at work? He looked to you, lips pressed in timid apprehension- a carefully constructed barrier between you and his new secret.

He left before you returned with the check, leaving in his wake three crisp hundred dollar bills beneath his used plate(more than six times the amount of his meal)- and a small note.

It was Valentine's Day.

[fittytittycity]

Back at u again

So I'm gonna do a "valentines with ___" Gotham thing and I already have Zsasz in the works ( Im SO excited for that one it's going really well)

so if u have particular person u want please comment or message me! As well as any themes or anything special yu want in the fic lmao- As of right now I'm probably gonna only do some villains and maybe Gordon

[fittytittycity]

Shoutout to everyone who liked my Zsasz post (u the man (men?) c; ) it's currently the most liked thing on my account and I got sum SPICY followers from it- so I'm gonna say this for the third and final time before y'all just get subjected to whatever shit story I decide to pull out my ass ---- my GOD damn REQUESTS are open 💓💕😩💖😤💖 and I live to please

[fittytittycity]

Victor Zsasz falling in love with you would include...

Oh my god sorry I got so carried away with this one! Great ask by the lovely @seph-a-rot but wowee sorry if this sucks but he's so cute dammit

My requests are open!

Victor Zsasz falling in love with you would include...

Meeting you:

• Seeing you in the club in the middle of a job, mouthing a silent 'holy shit' as you leaned over the bar to grab a tray of drinks

• Pursuing his lips in silent frustration as he teetered around you in wide circles, catching glimpses of you in between the shoulders of dancing club patrons

• Reminding himself he needed to get back to the job, doing to mental math to figure out how fast he could kill his target and still get back before your shift ended

• Giving up on it completely and leaving to blow the brains out of some mobster in the ally

Finding excuses to talk to you:

• walking into the bar late, asking for people he knew weren't there (cause he left threatening notes in their homes ensuring they wouldn't come into work) and trying to schmooze you from there ("He's not in? Shame....so uh... you work here?")

• He had quick fingers long before his work as an assassin, and would show you card tricks to ease you into natural conversation with him ("see look at this! Right behind your ear! Oh shit- sorry that's your hair- ")

• Feeling defeated, sulking around the club at night watching you serve drinks- getting distracted while Penguin or other hires were talking to him

• Seeing a certain suited up bozo get a little too touchy

• Following the said bozo home and popping a cap in his cranium

Actually talking...

• He hardly talked to anybody who wasn't in the crime industry and would listen with interest to you talk about your normal life, chirping in strange bits of information ("The kwik-mart on Dempster? I'm surprised they cleaned it up so fast, I dragged their hemorrhaging manager all over the store last Wednesday..")

• Your friends would poke fun at you, teasing you about how often he came in, how he would pace around, peering behind the bar to see if you were at work yet

• You were frightened at first, but that big goofy grin and his obsession with 80s pop made him hard to abstain from ("I like wham...if you have any control of what music they play in here...wham.")

• Accidentally brushing his hand and him immediately grabbing yours- blaming it on reflexes and letting go

• Long periods of silence after you finished a sentence, him just watching you intently

• Strange gifts he always failed to mention were from dead people

Romantic things...

• clearing his throat nervously before saying anything too emotional "I...UHHUMMMM...missed you yesterday."

• Being an obnoxious flirt when you were alone, smiling at you knowingly and smacking your ass in public, watching his friends roll their eyes but feeling proud that the whole room knew what was his

• Keeping you on his hip obsessively, holding your arm when you strayed ("Ah-ah-ah- where are you going? You're getting a drink? Can you get me an orange juice?")

Saying 'I love you'...

• getting chocolates and flowers ("This is what girls like. Right?" )

• Getting a call right before the date, running off with flowers and chocolate in hand- cursing the whole way there

• Finally coming back in the middle of the night with only one flower left and no chocolates (crushed in the fray)

• You open the door and he blurts it out- absolutely exhausted

• "I love you." And he sounds a little surprised, and for the first time a little scared

• But soon he's grinning and taking you up in his arms- kicking your door closed as he carries you off ("But man I'm hungry- is dinner cold yet?")

[fittytittycity]

what's up THOTS I'm officially out of ideas for the new ed story so the next part of it will take extra long to get up...so PLEASE REQUEST SUMTHIN! I'll do imagines or reader inserts or anything

just send in a name or something like "being jeromes dentist would include" just fucking anything I stg

I know like three ppl will see this but I’m procrastinating the third part of my ed series because I highkey don’t know what’s next. So if you have some deep seacret reader x whoever shit going on in ur head that u want to see written I will do whatever about anyone so 👌😩 I’ll even do another ed fic I’m just bored

[fittytittycity]

Third time (not the last)

Im sorry this one is so long!!! Also I'm not crazy about this one but I spent so long on it that it just had to go up

My suggestions are open

Part one and two are up !!!

Warnings: smut, sweating, questionable consent (but like not majorly)

If you had any sense you would have contacted Human Resources by now. You could definitely get him fired, and you could certainly make sure he would never get another job in Gotham for the rest of his tall miserable life. But the time for sense had expired, and reasonable thinking seemed too foreign to engage in now.

The warmth of his distant chest beckoned your head, his still arms roped ghost touches up and down your chest and face as you watched him write or gesture. He was half fantasy half real, half prince and half villain.

He was calling your name from his office. 'Oh shit!' You scrambled for his coffee, realizing you had been sitting in your office staring at his name on the cardboard cup.

You walked quickly to the lab, slowing as you entered earshot. He would have loved to hear you run, scampering to him like a trained dog- but you weren't willing to sacrificing your dignity so openly. Nudging the door with your hip you entered the lab, coffee in one hand a thick plastic bag of labeled evidence in the other. The stench of the room clung to the air, heavy and tangible as you cut through to get to the other side. Death and disinfectant, stale and yet frighteningly fresh. Edward was bent over the operating table, teel gloves half submerged in the torso of a bloated victim, browning blood freckling the front of his lab coat. He didn't look up to you as you passed him, setting his coffee on the counter behind him, wondering silently how the smell of rotting flesh and alcohol never seemed to stick to him.

"Harvey gave this to me on my way in, they want you to scan for prints. " You said quietly, eyes lingering on the open mouth of the deteriorating body on the examining table. He shut the mouth with a gloved finger, dragging your attention up his arm and to his eyes. He looked at you, not deducing or examining as he often did, only thoughtfully staring. Seeming to have resolved his thoughts, he turned to discard his gloves.

"Thank you Ms.L/N." He projected, taking the opaque bag from your offering hands. "I get cut but never bleed, I have teeth but don't bite, I get turned but I'm not a page, I'm put on a ring but I'm not a diamond- what am I?" He riddled, peering into the coin-sized bag with a small grin, reaching for a small latex glove to retrieve the item inside. You shifted anxiously as he turned away, not wanting to fumble. Your eyes snapped to the bag, attention drawn to the label.

Found yard away from body- the key to victims apartment- check for prints/damage

You looked back up, feigning curiosity.

"A key." You answered, a blossom of pride budding in your chest as he turned back to you, his face split in contented surprise. He drew out a key, brow knitting at the daunting task of getting prints out from under the ridges. You watched his features carefully, eyes trained on his moving lips- not catching his congratulations upon solving his riddle. You had lapsed back into a daze of infatuation, heart light and restless as it bartered around your chest- watching his eyelashes meet and separate, the serpentine movements of his shoulder muscles as he turned to face you.

It was hard to be looked at by you. Painful almost, but mostly confusing. His two parts messily stitched together coming slowly undone by the expectant stare of your poignant doe eyes. Ed wanted to reach out, kiss your hands and cheeks and whisper tenderly to you how lovely you looked in that green sweater- how magnificent the new perfume you were using smelled- how he caught it as you opened the door. But Edward did not. He wanted to make you sorry for staring, send you teetering back to your office shaking from the tears, bruised and ashamed. His hands inched to pull your hair- mind preoccupied imagining how your face would twist with two fingers inside of you, conjuring images of a tear-laden face pressed firmly into the wood of his desk- crying 'Mr.Nygma- Mr.Nygma- Mr.-'

"Mr. Nygma? Did you call me in here for something? Or just the coffee?" You whispered, afraid to jar him awake- his gaze distant and detached. He blinked quickly, taking in a deep breath- emerging from his fantasy like a freezing lake.

"I did." He answered, duality settling on the only thing his battling parts could agree on. His hand had already found its way to the crook of your neck, twitching to the feeling of your fine hairs rising against it- fingertips dragging over goosebumps, summoned by just a touch.

Both hands, hold her neck with both hands.

His arm faltered, hung halfway up his torso in instinctual pursuit- the encroaching feeling of losing control wrapping its panicked fingers around his chest. He held very still, afraid any movement on his part would push his hand forward and into the soft muscle of your neck. The room was silent.

"Are you going to kiss me again, Mr.Nygma?" You asked quietly, weight drawn to your toes- teetering forward into the magnetism of his hanging arms. He returned once more, hand gliding forward to the cinch of your waist.

"Yes." He whispered, the warm breath of his affirmation cascading over your parted lips. Your hands roamed directionlessly to his chest, willing him closer to you by the open collar of his lab coat. Your teeth clicked with his, your body bent against a firm hand on the small of your back- pushing your body flush to his. You felt your face grow hot against his, lips catching in quick heated kisses- his grip urgent and tense against your neck and back. And just as it had begun it was over, the final precious moment of his touch wasted on a passive nudge to separate the two of you. You felt the heat of embarrassment coil in your stomach, overshadowing the afterglow of your passionate embrace.

"You can go back to your desk. I'll be talking to you at the end of the day." He announced, turning away to tug on his latex gloves- clearing his throat with a sense of finality. You nodded, quickly heading for the door. He bit his tongue, but the words were already out.

"That's a very nice sweater, by the way."

...

You stood against the cabinet anxiously, eyes flashing from face to face. There was nothing wrong with the new cadets, they were perfectly polite and personable- there was just a lot of them. Five of them managed to squeeze into the narrow filing office- young faces beaming and bustling with stories of the police academy. They were your age, much younger than any of the policemen working in the front- and were all torturously competing for your attention amongst themselves. You convinced yourself it was because you were the only young girl in the precinct since Lee had left- squashing any blooming confidence these pining boys could have inspired.

"It was crazy, our instructor was like 300 pounds-" One began, perfect boyish features animated in expression.

"Shut up Luke he was at most 250."

"Ok 250- but he charged at me at practice and I totally flipped his ass." Luke continued, gesturing aggressively. Hebert rolled his eyes. It was getting hard to remember their names.

"How much do you weigh Y/N? I'm sure I could lift you." He inquired, taking a step forward. You uncrossed your arms, holding out your hands in protest.

"Haha- no I'm alright, I take your word for it I'm sure you could." You cautioned, watching him retreat in embarrassment. You glanced along the wall of cadets again, catching two dark eyes drawn to your pelvis. Ew, that's weird, I wonder what-

"Did you spill coffee on your skirt? Or is that blood?" Omar asked, squinting to get a better look, the rest of them diverting their attention to your stomach. 'Shit'. It was the blood from Edwards lab coat.

"Y/N. We had something at the end of the day." You turned, faced by the towering presence of your supervisor. Edward stood in the doorway, a head taller than most of the young cadets-eyes dark and unkind as he surveyed the room. It was a startling contrast, the array of attractive young men shadowed in the company of Mr.Nygma. You nodded quickly, looking back to the line of boys sympathetically- Edwards glance to them not so courteous.

"I spilled coffee. It was really nice talking to all of you." You rushed, fingers beginning to twitch in nervous anticipation. You watched them file out of the room, mumbling disappointed goodbyes as they went (Luke handing you his number on a small piece of paper). You laughed nervously- the burning sensation of Edwards' eyes on the back of your head worsening. You turned, placing the slip of paper neatly under your mug, watching your fingers tremble against the ceramic cup. You turned to him, his gaze delivering a volt of anxious shock- his lips pressed into a frightening smile.

"Do you know why I'm here?" He inquired his calculated steps forward forcing your back against the filing cabinets. You shook your head, and he clicked under his breath.

"Come on Ms.Chatty. Use your words." He teased, leaning down to meet your avoidant glance. You felt your chest boil and freeze over- eyes irreversibly locked to his in a tense silence.

"No, Mr. Nygma." You finally breathed, shifting uncomfortably under his focus-feeling microscopic beneath his looming shoulders.

"I saw those fine young boys match in, and I knew exactly what they were here for. You know how I know?" He mused, fingers grazing the clothed curve of your thigh- sending your heart through your chest and back down your throat in a matter of seconds. You shook your head gently, fingers gathered anxiously before your sternum, tensing in panic.

"Because I'm sure they've heard from all over the office that you're easy." He purred contentiously, his patronizing tone turning you stiff as his hand dragged to the hem of your skirt- drawing against the skin where it halted with a cold finger. "Isn't that right? An easy ditz...So antsy to get her hands on her boss she practically sprints to his office when he calls?" He hissed, voice soft and low- the breath of his words dancing down your face and neck as he tilted his head. His fingers strayed beneath your skirt, tracing up the side of your leg- thumb carefully perched just outside the tender flesh of your inner thigh. You struggled to breathe, feeling at any moment your body may betray your mind and send you bolting out the door.

"Edward-" You began, voice insecure and pleading- hands placed precariously on his chest.

"Mister. Nygma." He spat, nails splitting the skin of your leg- jolting you upright against him. You shifted in discomfort, not able to alleviate the painful pressure. He forced your hip back into the wall, stilling you with a strong hand.

"Ah- Mr. Nygma." You corrected, hands clenching in distress- finding anxious purchase in the folds of his blazer. He grinned against the skin of your ear and neck - your frantic heartbeat drumming against his parted lips.

"So easy police men twice her age eye her like ribeye..." He hissed, words dripping with resentment- hand running over the center of your thighs, thumb grazing the dry cotton of your underwear. You jolted violently- his cold hands shocking a sharp gasp out of you. He caught your open mouth in a urgent kiss- nearly knocking your head against the cabinet. His hand shifted, bent fingers massaging your clothed crotch- stifling a proud grin as you keened into his mouth.

"That's the only reason they keep you around, you're shit at your job- you're just fun to look at." He growled, fighting the pressure of your crossing legs as he hoisted your skirt up above your navel. You felt yourself tense up, shame flooding your chest like cold water- feeling small and vulnerable beneath his seizing grip.

"Ah- Mr.Nygma- There are still people in-" You cautioned, cut off by the jarring sensation of three cold digits pressing firmly into the pink flesh of your cunt. You writhed in his touch, hands spasming in frightened fists on his collar and hair. He grinned, your startled curses pushing across his mouth and cheek through light breaths. His chest was warm and steady beneath your fingers- broad and strong as his arms moved to push a long digit into your wet opening. You raised a hand to your mouth- stiffiling a high gasp. You chirped in surprise, a strong hand forcing your hand away.

"I grow in a bed, first white then red, and the plumper I get, the better women like me. What am I?" He hissed, careful fingers curling inside you. You squirmed in discomfort- the feeling of penetration foreign and forgotten, nails lost in the fine hairs of the back of his neck (printing small crescents to be admired the next day).

"I don't- I don't know." You admitted, embarrassment welling in your stomach. He can't be serious, he's not talking about his dick is he? He's not gonna fuck me in the filing room with all the policemen outside- is he? It felt terribly shameful- pressed to a filing cabinet with the fingers of your boss pushing quiet exclamations from your red bitten lips. His hands halted- lips crushed against yours in a urgent kiss.

"I'm a strawberry." He hummed, hands leaving your trembling body- looking over your disheveled attire. Your skirt pushed just above your waist, sweater bunched and wrinkled. He swelled with pride, savoring the frantic motions of you fixing your skirt and tucking in your sweater- still looking to him nervously. He licked his finger, giving you a final once-over.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He bid, leaving your office without another word.

[fittytittycity]

I woke up at 1:23 this morning, made this, then proceeded to go back to sleep

[fittytittycity]

I know like three ppl will see this but I'm procrastinating the third part of my ed series because I highkey don't know what's next. So if you have some deep seacret reader x whoever shit going on in ur head that u want to see written I will do whatever about anyone so 👌😩 I'll even do another ed fic I'm just bored

[fittytittycity]

Second Time (but not the last)

Hey all! Im on mobile so I can't attach the first one but I've only ever posted like five things on this account so just look back on my posts

I'm so glad ppl liked my last one! Message me if you like this and want more or if you have any suggestions (or if there are any grammatical errors)

Warnings: mild swearing, crying, panic attack sort of

Edward Nygma had never considered himself especially nosey.

Sure, he more often than not found himself on the outside of a conversation than in one, but he didn't consider himself nosey. Antisocially perceptive, an incredibly apt listener, but never nosey. He didn't mind though, sticking his nose into your business.

"So....you and Ed."

She proposed, leaning coyly on the side of your desk- carefully encroaching onto your workload.

"Hm. Wai- what?"

You asked, torn from your diligent trance, your pen still hovering above the paper. Ms.Ham peered at you knowingly, her bright lipstick folding into a perfectly symmetrical smile. Your expression didn't change, and she sighed in impatience.

"Cmon! Arnt you two like....screwing?" She quizzed, lowering her voice in invasive delight as she wiggled her sharp eyebrows. You resisted the urge to laugh, humor overcome with the bizarre nature of that question. Why on earth would she think that? Sure you lingered anxiously behind him, trailed his movements with doe eyes and subdued admiration- but there was nothing beyond your quiet attention that would elude to anything more than that.

"No- we're not screwing. Why would you think that?" You answered, chuckling dismissively as you turned back to your paper, thoughtlessly checking boxes.

"Oh come on! I see you in the restroom after your 'meetings'- fixing your makeup

/catching your breath/ ." She countered, squeezing out her allegations quietly, giddy with the raunchiness of her accusation. You paused, pen halted above the paper. The familiar prick of humiliation kneaded your stomach, a wave of discomfort overcoming you. You usually were able to make certain no one was in the restroom, but when much of the bureaucratic staff had left the precinct you assumed the back restrooms were clear. Collectively you must have spent hours bent over those sinks, sobbing into your elbow, rubbing snot and tears from your face, pressing cold pieces of wet paper towel under your eyes to stop the swelling. How lucky you were that she had only seen the aftermath of a cry in your office, wiping your wet red face, mascara smeared above and below your foggy eyes, shaking with labored breath. You felt your knee jerk beneath your desk, begging to bounce anxiously on the floor. You felt your face become very hot, you didn't want to think about it.

"Ha! No, I uh, I just have terrible allergies in winter. Chills, tears, the whole nine yards!" You answered, crossing your legs hoping to quell your shaking limbs. You looked up from your paper, dropping the pen carefully- feeling your palms sweat with embarrassment. You smiled gingery, searching her face for any sign your facade was working.

"Oh- huh. Yeah Eds kind of a weirdo, I was just gonna say if the two of you were messing around that you should be careful." She cautioned, chuckling dryly to herself. "Odd one like that- there's no telling what he's in to. I bet he likes kicking around his girlfriend befo-"

"Trish- I really have to finish up this work." You interrupted, the need to escape this conversation becoming radically urgent. She smiled, rolling her eyes and nudging your shoulder lovingly. She mumbled something patronizing about work ethic and waltzed out of the room.

Shame coiled in your gut, drowned in the unshakable embarrassment of nearly being caught. For having to almost explain that you were such an incompetent worker that you needed constant reprimand, reprimand that left you in hot ugly fits of sobbing humiliation in the staff bathroom.

For how confusing it was, how tender and persuasive his fingers felt on the small of your back as he passed you in a narrow hall. For his hungry lingering, the predatory silence of his presence behind you when you worked- the fear only a hunter could inflict upon its prey.

You inhaled deeply, aware now that you had been holding your breath. You blinked, a hot tear landing on the back of your hand. You wiped your face quickly, god what a fucking idiot. You really deserved everything he said, you weren't fit to work here. You rolled your eyes, feeling the familiar sting of oncoming tears tickle your eyes. Damn.

Edward was on a deadly power trip. An ego wave he would inevitably crumble beneath, soon to drown in his own festering God complex. James Gordon was in jail, and the heavy paranoia that strained his anxious mind had blossomed into manic euphoria. He could do anything, he could get away with anything. He wasn't worried about Ms.Hams speculation, if anything it exacerbated his obsession.

She must be so embarrassed, and knowing Ham the whole precinct must think she's sleeping around. Can you imagine the rancid things those policemen will say about her?

Goosebumps rose on his scalp, mouth curving into a perfect grin. He could definitely imagine. He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his narrow nose, pushing the handle down to enter your office.

Your knees buckled, sending you upright in a matter of seconds, the familiar sound of the brass handle slamming against a cabinet ripping you from your pitiful slouch.

"Mr.Nygma! Hello- can I help you with something?" You blinked quickly, taking a deep breath through your nose before turning around, smile docile and calm. Your lip twitched, teeth aching to chatter against your clenched jaw- you smiled tighter. He grinned back, taking three careful strides towards you- your legs tensing in the desire to flee.

"Yes actually, two things." He mused, pulling from behind his back a stack of papers, littered with red ink and flagged bits of paper. He looked down at it, shaking his head slowly.

"I can't understand how you thought this was an appropriate final draft for Commissioner Barnes to send out for the Christmas letter, it's littered with grammatical errors and poor phrasing." He scolded, disbelieving amusement soaking his flat tone. His flicked the paper, not seeing you flinch behind the white pages. You held your breath, pleading with your body not to give way to your embarrassment- blinking only when you were absolutely sure you wouldn't cry.

"Thank god I picked it up out of his inbox before he got his hands on it. Barnes may posses even less of a linguistic gene than you...I can imagine without my intervention the entire staff would share my misfortune of reading such a massacre of a Christmas letter." He scoffed, stifling the urge to smile, the hot feeling of sadistic delight boiling in his stomach.

"Secondly-" He began, flipping the papers down to deliver the most anticipated part of his ridicule. He looked over your face, anticipating the coming expressions. Your eyelashes clung together with moisture, exaggerating their dark sheen- pushing forward the vibrant colors of your reddening eyes. He was without speech for a moment- confused as to how he had already elicited such a response. Unless-

"Ms.L/N have you been crying?" He quizzed, the careless monotone he had struggled to sustain lost in his confusion. You felt the hot tentacles of shame wrap around your stomach, pushing out the anxious breath you had held so tightly. You shook your head quickly, hands loosening from fists into frantic shapes in front of your chest- pulling on your fingers in a nervous panic.

"No- No I just-"

"Who made you cry?" He barked, discarding the papers onto the desk behind you, the adrenaline of his expecting pleasure twisting into rage. Who on earth had made you cry? It couldn't have been Ms.Ham..or perhaps what she had said to you about how you worked too much? Maybe one of the policemen? He was infuriated, some strange deformation of jealousy straining his mind to decipher who had stolen from him the joy of being the only person to cause you such damage. You struggled to breathe, afraid any allowance of air would turn into a sob the moment it left your lips.

"No one, no one made me cry. I just-" you began, fingers twisting and grabbing at the front of your shirt thoughtlessly. You felt your stomach heave in protest, body aching to curl up and die. You wanted more than anything to run out of the room and under your covers to never return to the outside world.

"I'm just concerned that I'm not- not doing a very good job. I like this job v-very- I like this job very much and I would really like to get a good reference. And I feel like you're very dis-dissatisfied with my work. I want to be a good employee and I feel I'm not living up to your standards." You spat, vision twisting and blurring in wet heavy embarrassment. This was a nightmare. You couldn't keep yourself together, words tripping over the next, chest rising and falling so rapidly you thought for sure your heart was stopping and restarting. You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, your teeth began to chatter and your palms began to sweat.

"I'm sorry it just all got the best of me- I promise not to let it-" But Edward was no longer listening. It would be a disservice to himself to distract from the display- eyes darting anxiously away from him, the muscles in your arms and legs tensing and releasing in tantalizing tremors. He was engulfed in the sight- how had he survived so long without witnessing it? Your hand shot up, shaking terribly as it wiped a tear from your red cheek- bringing his gaze back to your face. Instinctually, like a lunging animal, his hand was around your wrist. He reached out, desperate to feel the sticky heat of your tear laden cheek as he leaned in further. The narrow end of his nose brushed yours, your lamenting words seeming immediately less important than the feeling of his slow breath on your Cupid's bow. It was silent as your lips met, your weeping hiccups quelling into a blissful lack of. Your stammering heart stopped, and the desire to curl up and fall away turned to the irresistible urge to curl up into the shallows of his welcoming chest and fall away there. Your reciprocation was timid, lips trembling against his strong guiding mouth as you placed a fearful hand on his chest. His thumb lay gently on your jaw, the tips of his fingers lost in the fine hairs of your neck, the pressure just strong enough to communicate a strange urgency. He parted slowly, leaving room for you to realize you had not yet caught your breath.

"Edward-" you began, voice hoarse and ginger as his hand loosened from your wrist and returned to his side. He could feel your pulse in his fingertips against your neck, feeling his own slow rhythm in contrast to your erratic pulsation.

"Mr. Nygma." He corrected. "Ms.L/N-" He began, his voice rolling up from his chest in a low growl.

"Who made you cry?" He repeated, eyes dark and empty, fingers pressing tighter into the side of your face.

"You did, Mr. Nygma." You whispered, eyes drawn down towards his chest in returning embarrassment.

"Good answer."

[fittytittycity]

Omf y'all :,) I didn't expect anyone to read my story lmao I'm so happy I got like 5 notes I kno it's not a lot but :,) I'm such a bad writer I'm so glad at least five ppl were like "oh ok" and I'm gonna put up the next chapter soon lmaoooffjjdhdbdh

[fittytittycity]

First Time (but not the last)

Edward Nygma enjoys making the reader cry.

Edit- second chapter of this is posted!

No warnings other than crying (I guess?)

No smut but I plan on making more of these where smut will insue aye aye aye ;))))

Also, I wrote and uploaded this on my phone so

Edward Nygma had never considered himself a sadist.

In actuality, he thought of himself as a caring and thoughtful man with few outlets to exercise those traits. He was sensitive, silently seeking approval, and derived very little from seeing people emotionally harmed. His self-perception was several months out of date, though he would argue that he had maintained his thoughtfulness. Though others would call it calculated psychopathy, a lot of thought went into what he did- and therefore he deemed himself thoughtful. He hadn't been thinking though, the first time he made you cry.

In his perverted perception of the world, the tension between detective Gordon and him surrounding Kirsten's disappearance had become unbearable. Jim Gordon had continued to push him, his gaze the mouth of a hot glue gun on the base of his neck, drawing hot lines of paranoia up and down Edwards scalp as he perused the precinct. He had short-circuited, his temples aching from the constant divination of his eyes- Jim Gordon- papers-Jim Gordon- papers. He wouldn't allow Jim to get the upper hand, and that involved intense and constant diligence. He was exhausted from his nerves and buzzed off paranoia. You were dancing in your office.

He hadn't been your supervisor for very long, and as an intern, you didn't have much to do the first few days of your transition under Mr.Nygmas supervision. You had worked at the front desk for a while, accumulating the fancy of policemen and the endearment of the staff, fetching coffees and arranging files. Lee was off on maternity leave and had left Edward Nygma as medical examiner as they found a temporary replacement, and Harvey suggested you be put to better use as his assistant.

You had grown familiar with the high cathedral walls and the constant sweat of policemen in the humid air. Your anxiety had begun to subside, it no longer felt like everyone was looking at you all the time to see if you messed up, it no longer sounded like everyone was talking about you when you walked past the water cooler- it no longer felt like an obstacle course to get through the day. The change was worrying, but you knew Mr.Nygma to be a quiet and solitary man, someone from who you didn't expect much confrontation. Still, settling into your new office in the filing room represented another leap into the unknown- Mr.Nygma was very intimidating, and you didn't know what to expect from becoming his assistant. You weren't afraid of the gore, at least not more than than other things. You wanted very badly to do well, to get a great reference and to not disappoint anyone in the process.

You were dancing in your office. Not really dancing, shuffling and nodding maybe. Ticking through filing cabinets with both hands, earbuds tucked into your ears. It felt like popcorn under his scalp, kernels nudging into his brain and popped seeds frying and shifting his vision. He could hear you from the hallway, a tapping of the shoe and the almost silent buzz of radio. It was unbearable.

He opened the door, watching your watered down boogie slow to a halt as you turned to look at him. You tugged on the wire, forcing both buds to pop out- balling them up in your hand.

"Hello, Mr.Nygma." You greeted, your steps stuttered as you turned to face him completely. You hadn't expected to see him so soon past your first meeting following your transition to his aid. He seemed kind and distracted- he had told you a riddle ("What starts with the letter e and ends with the letter e and contains one letter? An envelope!") and immediately absconded to attend to his lunch.

"Ms.L/N I don't tell people things twice, it's an insult to the listener and to me. So I hope this is the first and only time I tell you not to use headphones on the job." He stated, his inflection bitter and flat. Your hand tightened around the earbuds in your hands. You opened your mouth to speak but closed it very quickly.

"It's dangerous, considering we have criminals going in and out of the building. If something were to happen to you because you couldn't hear a commotion outside I would be responsible." He continued, his lips tight and his hands clasped behind his back. You stayed very quiet, nodding. You didn't move, feeling the hot tug of embarrassment curl in your stomach. "In addition, I don't know the rules regarding dress under Captain Barnes but I'm going to ask that you dress a little less-" A beat of silence, your stomach turning over. How had you been dressing? You wished very much for the floor to split open and swallow you into hell.

"Loud." He decided. "I'm prone to migraines. You work in a office now, a more professional dress is required." You stayed entirely still, heat welling in your quickly twisting stomach. Edward was not done, not nearly. He was exhausted, the kind of emotional fatigue only days of anxious rage could produce. If he was an angry man he might take up boxing, but it wasn't his body that needed to regain control over.

"I hope you don't prove yourself to be hindrance, Ms.L/N. Though I can't say I will be surprised. I do important work here- work I prefer to do alone." He finished, the room tortuously quiet. He looked above your head, past your slowly reddening face and to the clock.

"I'm sorry Mr.Nygma, It won't happen again." You said carefully, your throat clenching between every syllable. He wasn't looking at you, and somehow it felt so much worse.

"Id hope so Ms.L/N. I'd suggest you go home, it's getting late." He looked back to you. He smiled, very quickly and very stiffly, and walked past and out the door on the opposite side of your office.

It was not cathartic, nor did it help him dispel any of his worries about Jim Gordon. He stood for a moment behind the door, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. Truthfully, he hadn't remembered much of what he had said to you, he felt persistently burdened and preoccupied- there wasn't room for much else but paranoia.

But there it was- a moment of clarity. A muffled hiccup, a moment of frantic shuffling and several labored sniffs. He turned his head slightly, his ear closer to the door. Your head was deep in your hands, forcing your nose into the spaces of your fingers and your shaking lips into your palms. You felt stupid, and even more for crying. He thought you were a ditz, he thought you dressed like an idiot- a loud unprofessional idiot. And you were, you had no idea what you were doing.

"Hyuk-"

You weren't suited for this job, you were absolutely going to fail, and he knew it as soon as he saw you. You had tried so hard to pretend to be competent at the front desk and now-

"Hyuk-"

Mr. Nygma knew exactly how unequipped you were to work here. You put a firm hand over your mouth, stifling another weepy noise. You were being stupid. You took a deep breath, a rattled uneven breath that ended in another quick sob.

Edward was thrilled. It numbed his fingers and lifted his chest. He couldn't describe the feeling. He heard the panicked click of wood- your legs were shaking, your shoes were clattering on the floor. It was exhilarating. His hands shook, his face split into an uncontrollable grin. He wanted to go back and watch. Watch you pull your shoulders closer to yourself to try and hide your red twisted face, your eyes red and filled with embarrassment. He heard it again, a hiccup and a deep breath. You were trying very hard to be quiet. He imagined you'd look quiet beautiful, so fragile and weepy, vulnerable and ashamed.

You could touch her, she'd shake like a leaf in your hands. Your hands, our hands. No one else makes her cry like that I bet. Just you.

Edward nodded. Just him.

[fittytittycity]

Did you forget? Love is patient!