You were bored out of your mind with absolutely nothing to do. Social media had lost its charm, and baking didn't feel appealing today. So, you figured—why not mess with the most chaotic man in all of Gotham?
With mischief in your veins, you made your way to his office, brainstorming ways to get on his nerves.
You knocked on the door and waited.
"Come in," he barked.
You pushed the door open slowly, catching sight of him leaned back in his chair, phone pressed to his ear.
"So when the fuck are they going to ship it?" he growled at whoever was on the other end.
You wandered into the room, casually toying with whatever caught your attention.
"Ooh, what's this?" you teased, picking up something unidentifiable from his desk.
"Don't touch that, baby," he warned, his icy blue eyes locked on you with a look that said seriously, don't test me.
You set it down and sauntered over to him, settling into his lap like it was your throne.
"I don't care what you do, just make sure my shit gets here on time," he snapped, ending the call with a click before turning to you. "What's up, baby?"
"Nothing... I'm just bored," you said, lazily playing with the collar of his shirt.
He scoffed. "Bored, huh?"
"Yep."
"Well, you came to the wrong place, baby," he muttered, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt.
"No I didn't," you grinned, sliding off his lap and hopping up onto his desk. "I've got some questions, and I want you to be honest."
He groaned. "Look, doll, I'm not in the fucking mood to play 21 Questions, alright?"
"Why not?"
"Because daddy is fucking tired," he sighed, rubbing his face like he hadn't slept in days.
"Well, I don't care," you said boldly. "If I was a rabbit, would you date me?"
He blinked. "What the fuck kind of question is that?" His face twisted in disbelief.
You burst out laughing, already knowing how he'd react. "Just answer the question, daddy."
"No. I don't date fucking animals, sweetheart."
"Okay, what's your favorite sex position?"
He raised a brow, smirk tugging at his lips. "Ion know, baby. You tell me."
You glanced down shyly. "Umm... I don't know."
"Yes, you do, baby. Say it."
You giggled, cheeks heating. "Missionary?"
"Why, baby?" he asked, leaning in close, his cold hands resting on your thighs.
"Because... you like looking at my pretty face," you said softly, hoping you got it right.
"That's right." His grin deepened.
You smiled like a giddy kid.
"Now let me ask you a question," he said, his tone shifting—lower, darker. Your heart skipped a beat.
"What's your favorite thing daddy does to you?"
Your brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"You know what I fucking mean, doll," he said, eyes burning with intensity.
You hesitated, the answer clear in your mind but hard to say out loud.
"Umm... I don't know, daddy," you murmured.
"Yes, you do," he said, tilting your chin up so you couldn't hide from his gaze. "Tell daddy. I don't judge." That wicked smirk made your stomach flutter.
"I like when... when you eat me out," you mumbled, barely audible.
"I didn't fucking hear you," he said, squeezing your thigh.
You swallowed hard. "I like it when you eat me out."
"Can we stop now?" you whined.
He let out a low, wicked laugh. "Nah, baby. We're just getting started."
"Huh?"
"You heard me." His voice dropped, all seriousness now. "Now open your fucking legs."
"Yes, sir," you whispered.
Safe to say... you weren't bored anymore.
