quandaryqueen

[quandaryqueen]

Hi

Drops this and runs

[quandaryqueen]

Unexpected Exhibitionist

Young Justice!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 4k commission: a particularly fun commission from a wonderful friend, featuring an au where all the riddlers co-exist, and sweet yj!eddie is teased riiiiiiiight in front of them all, or at least, digitally 💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: teasing, oral sex, exhibitionism in a way!, sex on camera... kind of! (should be gn!reader but let me know if i've missed something obvious)

Eddie so very rarely asked to have some space from you. Only when he was focusing on something complicated or exceptionally important would he ever think of asking you to give him an hour to himself. And even though he had asked for permission to spend the morning alone in his office, you were prepared to deny him that, if only for the sake of checking up on him.

He hated when you fussed, of course, believing that he wasn’t worth the attention, or that he should be the one fussing over you, and while you were usually ok with being fawned over him and offering your support from a distance when requested, today was different.

There was a conference call, with the other Riddlers. A teleconference? Or a… you weren’t sure what the name of an interdimensional meet-up between several super-villains of the same ilk would be, if you were honest. But what you did know was that it had been driving Eddie insane with anxiety lately. And you felt it was your responsibility to try and cheer him up, or at least distract him for a little bit to make sure he was prepared for the afternoon. So you crept into his office, watching him type furiously as he wiped his brow of sweat, trying to think of what the best way to interrupt him might be.

With a hand placed on his shoulder, you squeezed it softly and let your fingers linger as you spoke.

“You busy, Eddie?”

Immediately ceasing the almost relentless and steady typing at his computer, Eddie turned to you, pushing his glasses up his nose with his finger and focusing his attention completely on your waiting smile.

“Never too busy for you! Do you… need something? Anything?”

He checked the clock on the wall, then the clock on the screen, then his watch on his wrist. A nervous habit he’d developed since cohabiting with you. When he was alone, it was easy to get distracted. To spend hours and hours, sometimes close to a full day, without stopping, speaking, bodily functions and needs tended to on autopilot. But he was trying his hardest to take breaks. Partly, because you told him it was good for him to stop, and that you wanted him to be healthy and happy. Mostly, because he wanted to spend every second he could with you, cherishing those moments, still in disbelief that you would give him the chance to.

Smiling at you awkwardly, hoping he hadn’t been neglecting you for too long, he turned the chair around. He was well aware that you could feed yourself, grab a drink when you needed one. But he liked to do things for you, to tend to you, care for you, spoil you almost. Like a princess. And the idea that you had been sitting around hungry or thirsty or tired or bored made him feel horrendously guilty.

“Yeah, dummy. I need you! I missed you.”

You offered him a warm smile, narrowing your eyes softly at him as you stepped closer, seating yourself on his lap, hands moving straight to his tie. You teased it, running your fingers up and down it as you watched the movements. Eddie’s eyes bore into you, watching your face as you took him in. he marvelled at the way you could look at him with such adoration, he’d never experienced anything quite like it. His hands fell to your waist, shifting slightly to offer you more space on his thighs, the grip on you light, but protective.

With a soft giggle, you squirmed a little, writhing against him as you brought your cheek to his, your lips close to his ear as you sighed, a quiet moan as you felt him against you, a definite stiffness growing as you let your fingers trail along his neck and through his hair.

As much as Eddie savoured your affections, physical or otherwise, he knew if he didn’t stop you now then he’d be drawn into you, unable to focus on anything else. He wasn’t too busy to get you a drink or hug you, but he was very aware that he had an appointment coming up shortly, an important video call, and he couldn’t miss it. He hated himself for what he was about to do, but it had to be done.

Eddie cleared his throat and leaned back.

“I can’t believe I am about to say this, but I’ll have to take a raincheck on this amazing… hug?”

“Could’ve been more.”

You winked playfully, but you were still disappointed. You didn’t question him, you knew he wouldn’t turn you down for just anything.

“I have the… the big conference call, with the others.”

“Oh! Well, of course you can’t miss that.”

Eddie winced at the thought, and you stood up from his lap, letting him turn the chair back around.

“You look tense though, Eddie.”

You rubbed at his shoulders, feeling your stomach flutter when he groaned in pleasure at the touch.

“I am… I’m nervous… I wish I could just distract myself, or have something to distract me during this. Something to take the edge off. I feel like they’re all so much more… qualified than me. That they have something I don’t.”

It hurt you to see him so dejected, to be questioning himself. It was easy to understand him. He was a lot quieter than the others. No less capable about being arrogant in his intellectual prowess, but not as cruel or loud as the others about his achievements and intelligence. He had informed you a few times before, but not in detail, about his hang-ups with his fellow Riddlers, that they were more infamous in their respective universes, that they had more power, more criminal achievements. But you were very aware that there was one thing he had that they didn’t. He had you.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?”

You winked playfully, watching his mouth twitch as it tried to force a smile.

“I uh… you could stand there and look pretty, that always helps me. But it might bore you when we get down to business.”

“I could listen to you talk for hours, Eddie. Your lips look so pretty when you’re talking about your plans.”

There was an audible gulp as Eddie swallowed his nerves, his brain, usually so quick and competent, struggling to keep up with your flirtatious conversation. He was so nervous around you, even still, and the innocent and almost terrified way he tried to flirt gave you butterflies and made you fall in love with him even more each time.

You could tell he was running out of things to say though, so you put him out of his misery and offered up your services to him.

“Well, Eddie. I’m sure I can think of something to help you relax… and I promise I won’t get in the way of your prep for the meeting.”

Sinking to your knees you crawled around the chair and under the desk, where you settled on your heels. Your palms, firm against him, stroked up his thighs towards his crotch, where his pants were beginning to tent even at this slight touch. You couldn’t help yourself, unable to supress the delighted giggle which came out at how quickly you were able to have him aroused and at full attention.

“Oh, my! You’re certainly excited at least… maybe not quite relaxed yet, but we’re heading in the right direction, I suppose.”

Your fingers were twitching as you reached for the fly of his pants, undoing the metal button and unzipping them before tugging to pull them down. The delightful bulge sat between the opening in the fabric, covered by his boxers which you smiled at, noting that they were his lucky green ones. He really was nervous about this meeting. He was so entirely sweet and adorable, and the fact that his logical brain still relied on superstition and ritual at times when he was particularly worried or anxious made your heart leap in your chest. There wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do to help him through this, it was just lucky that the method you knew best was one that would satisfy you too.

Running your fingers along the elastic band at the top of his boxers, you hummed in satisfaction as you watched his cock twitch, suppressed by the fabric, desperate to be free, aching for your direct touch. You ran a finger over the top of his boxers, feeling his length tense up, jerking softly below the tickling sensation. Another giggle fell over your lips, sultry and coloured in your own obvious arousal. You licked at your lips and swallowed the gathering saliva, noting that you were drooling at just the idea of tasting his cock, having it, thick and hard against your tongue, choking you as you tried to take as much of it in as possible.

You couldn’t put it off any longer. As much as you wanted to tease, to take it slowly and offer a relaxing pace, you needed to at least hold his cock in your hands. You needed to feel him, skin against skin.

“Oh… oh! Are you… are you going to uh… oh wow! You are!”

As his boxers shifted down over his cock, it bounced free completely, sweetly coloured the same as his skin, his head a flushed pink that glistened with precum, and the tuft of trimmed but still wild pubic hair that topped it looked soft to the touch. With your drool threatening to spill over your lips, you licked them and let your tongue drag up from the base of Eddie’s twitching length to the tip, where you flicked your tongue swiftly. At the sound of his whimper, you wrapped your lips around the tip and hollowed your cheeks, sucking as you hummed in satisfaction, finally having him in your mouth.

His chest rose and fell sporadically, as though he were having to manually breathe in and out, his usual instincts inhibited by the flustered pleasure that coursed through him in heavy waves. Each time he opened his eyes to look down at you, he was sent writhing once more, the sultry way you stared at him driving him wild, insane even, at the notion someone as attractive as you would look at him as though not only were he somehow equally sexy, but that just the act of pleasuring him was enough to get you off.

Which it was. Testament to this, you could feel your underwear starting to dampen, soaked in your slick as you found yourself groaning with Edward’s thick, turgid cock stretching your mouth, pressing on your tongue, the almost sweet taste of his skin clashing with the salted flavour of his precum.

A shrill sound interrupted Eddie’s soft moans as you serviced him, tinkling out loud in the room. Choking on a gasp, you could feel Eddie shuffling around.

“Oh-oh god… it’s them… it’s early? I got the time wrong?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t… you have to… I can’t do this while you’re there!”

“But you’re nervous! I’m helping!”

You smiled up at him, teasing slightly, it was impossible not to. He was so cute when he was flustered, and flustered was better than terrified. So you reached up and hit the enter button.

“No! Nooo-uh, hello!”

The screen was filled with the faces of the other Riddlers, each of them keen to begin their discussions, to hear Arkham’s plans which he had assured them all was the definite end to their problem, the Batman.

“How are we all doing today, my… colleagues.”

Eddie tensed in the chair as you returned your hands to his cock, taking it in your grasp, both fists lining the shaft as you pumped it slowly, languid strokes that made him gasp and stutter as he uttered his hellos over the camera.

“Are we all feeling ok?”

“Heh-ye-Es.”

His voice squeaked on the words, and you stifled a giggle at his reaction, cock throbbing against your palms. Desperately trying to compose himself, he sat up straighter in the chair, thick length writhing in your hands as you shuffled closer to him, your palms tracking up his thighs and pulling at his hips. With a soft exhale, you let your warm breath tickle over his skin, before your lips found his head, closing over it again.

As calm as he was able to be, Eddie focused, unblinking, on the camera as he tried his best to listen to what Arkham and the others were saying. It was impossible to go too long without his mind drifting back to what was happening under the desk. Your sweet mouth opening as wide as you could make it to allow him to slide effortlessly to the back of your tongue. Your fingers, gentle and delicate as you cupped his balls, squeezing softly as you continued to suck his cock against his squirming.

“Edward, are you quite alright? I don’t expect much from you all, given that I am the superior Riddler here, but I would at least hope that your feeble mind could pay attention for more than thirty seconds at a time.”

Swallowing his nerves, and trying to suppress his desperate arousal that was building in his chest, Edward stuttered over his words.

“I’m… I’m here- I mean, I’m fine… I mean, it’s ok. I’m paying attention. Sorry. Sorry.”

“Are you sure, it appears that you have something else on your mind.”

“No, I assure you I’m f-HUH-ine… ahem…”

Feigning a cough, Eddie tried to cover the pitch-shifting in his voice. He was bad at deflecting though, and the more he tried to encourage everyone to move on, the more they seemed to be focused on him. Especially when the more sympathetic of his fellow Riddlers were keen to make sure he was ok before continuing their master plan discussions.

“Eddie, are you sure you’re ok? You look awful sweaty…”

Gotham was stretching in his seat, straining to get closer to the camera. Dano’s face curled into one of worry and concern as he chimed in.

“And your face is flushed. Are you hot? You might be coming down with something. You could turn your camera off if you’re feeling uncomfortable being on with us all when you’re-”

“NO! This is far too important for anyone to be given an excuse to stop listening.”

Arkham was furious at the suggestion, his screen shaking briefly as he slammed his fist down onto the table he sat at.

“No muting. No turning the cameras off. Every single one of you needs to be held accountable and be paying attention completely. I won’t let any single one of you fall behind and cause this plan to crumble apart. Not when my name is so clearly attached to it.”

Holding in a mischievous giggle, you hollowed your cheeks, slurping louder than you meant to, aware that there was every chance it was heard over the microphone. But no one said anything, and Eddie covered it with another cough.

As you let the teeth on your lower jaw graze along the underside of his length, you could feel him tensing, breath hitching at the slight tingling of pain you knew he enjoyed far more than he could admit to. Quick to try and prevent any further embarrassment, or reason for the others to suspect that something untoward may be happening, Eddie clamped his hands over his mouth. Though he realised this in itself was perhaps a strange movement, so putting his less than admirable acting skills to practice, he let out a dramatic and very obviously fake yawn.

A few of the faces on the screen looked on in confusion, some with concern. Arkham, of course, glared down the lens in oblivious rage. Concerningly, to Eddie, both Zero Year and Unburied wore a slight, knowing smirk. He tried to convince himself that there was no way they could know, to keep himself calm. But it was so obvious, their expressions so telling. They might not know exactly what was happening, but they had an inkling that all was not well on Eddie’s side of the camera. Or all was perhaps a little too well.

You laid off a little, letting your hands stroke him softly and slowly to offer some reprieve when you heard Arkham barking over the speakers.

“Are you completely incompetent? I find it hard to believe that you share anything in common with even these idiots, let alone with me! But, since you’re so insistent on being the focus of the attention, perhaps you would like to inform us of your progress with your part of the plan.”

“I… uh…”

Eddie stammered nervously, fully aware of your mischievous nature and knowing this might be the thing that pushed him over the edge. How much could he conceal if he was the only one talking? The focus of every pair of eyes on the call? Not much, he imagined.

“Did you forget, Edward, that we were all going to present our own progress today? Was it too taxing for you to do the work and remember? Next time, I will take that on board. I will remember how little you are capable of taking on.”

Eddie let out a brief sigh of relief, which choked in his throat with a squeal as you ran your thumb over the flushed, reddening head of his cock.

“But! Due to the nature of today’s call, the sheer importance, and the fact that you have already disappointed me and disrupted the flow, I will insist that you please, present your no doubt lacklustre and pointless information to us immediately.”

With his stomach lurching, Eddie tried to gaze down at you, meeting your eyes as you peered up at him just below the table’s edge. You wore a grin that told him you weren’t going to make this easy. And it was already difficult. He could feel himself throbbing, his palms sweating, as he watched your hands caressing his length, your eyes staring, unblinking, directly into his.

When he realised that you had been commanding his attention long enough for it to be questionable to the others as to why he had been staring at his lap for so long, he managed to pull himself away from the view. With an awkward smile and a strangled laugh, he cleared his throat and pulled up his notes.

“Well, as you all know, it’s been a long and difficult process to get us all together and able to work on this. I have been trying my hardest to make sure that ah-ha-AH-ah-ah-I’ve-ah… choo?”

Arkham furrowed his brow as Eddie failed miserably to cover his heightened moaning with a pathetic attempt at a fake sneeze, ready to begin yet another rant aimed at Eddie’s assumed idiocy, but not before Zero Year chimed in.

“What’s wrong with you, Eddie? Got something on your mind?”

Zero Year recognised the facial expressions, the sounds. How could he not? He spent his days browsing lazily, one hand on his mouse or holding his phone, the other wrapped around his stubby cock as he gazed at the sordid imagery on various porn sites. He was well aware of what was happening, even if he couldn’t believe it.

At first, he had assumed that Eddie was masturbating during the meeting, that he’d gone a little bit insane and felt it was worth the risk. But, and despite his complete disbelief in this, he’d settled on the idea that there was someone else with Eddie, someone hidden below the screen, or below the desk, and they were the one behind his growing arousal and imminent climax. Of course, Zero Year was infuriated by this, his jealousy fuelling his decision to make matters far worse for Eddie as he sat, writhing and tensing on the other side of the screen, trying to hold himself together.

Unburied had similarly come to the conclusion that Eddie’s odd behaviour was at the hands, quite literally, of someone else who was currently providing a very well-received service to him, either as a tease or as part of an experiment in exhibitionism. Although, he doubted that Eddie was that adventurous, which was a correct assumption. Your shy, nervous, sweet Eddie was too much of a rule follower to allow himself the pleasure of being this risky. You, on the other hand, were far more willing to be a bit naughty, and you were happy to drag Eddie kicking and screaming along for the ride.

As the sweat began to fall from Eddie’s forehead to his brows, his upper-lip now coated in the sheen also, Unburied and Zero Year let loose a barrage of false concern for him. All eyes were focused on him now, with Arkham staring furiously, his face getting redder and his voice getting louder behind the persistent questioning and mocking jeers of the others. He had picked up on the suggestions, and was nearing nuclear levels of rage at Eddie, who was beginning to feel himself coming undone under the pressure and the weight of your tongue and lips against his desperate cock.

You could almost taste his release, feel each miniscule twitch of the veins around his length against your tongue as Eddie bit his lip, wailing out loud, trying to cover his sounds of growing pain and pleasure with stammered words he never quite managed to complete.

“I… I ha-ha… have… I have to… I have to g-go…”

“Don’t you dare hang up this call, Edward. I will see to it that you never join us for another plan. You’ll be an embarrassment to the moniker, The Riddler and I’ll ensure that everyone knows it.”

“Yeah, c’mon Eddie. Whatever it is, just let it out. We’re all friends here.”

The cruelly curled smirk on Zero Year’s lips still wasn’t enough to hold Eddie’s orgasm back. He could feel it rising, cock moist and warm in your mouth, ready to release his seed in an explosive and embarrassing show.

“I have to! I can’t!”

Eddie reached his hands up to the table, clearly taking the risk that Arkham’s threats were empty, intent on hanging up on the call anyway before he made a mess of himself, and your face, on camera. But you were quick to intercept, your fingers tight around his wrists as you held his hands below the chair. He didn’t have the strength to fight you, his hole body was trembling. This was exciting. A complete turn on. At your mercy, embarrassed in front of his peers, yes. But also, displaying a sense of dominance before them. What one of them could say they had someone on their knees in front of them, making sure their cock was wet and empty while they worked diligently on their plans.

The thought alone was enough to push him over the edge and he let forth a shrill squeal than fell to a guttural growl as he came. You moaned, muffled, in surprise as you tried to swallow his load, but it was powerful, plentiful, and you could feel it dripping down over your lips and down your chin as it kept coming.

Though you couldn’t see it, you could accurately picture the result of Eddie’s orgasm. His own face, slick with sweat, a half-smile with heavy lidded eyes as he tried to catch his breath. The others, unsure of whether to look away so as not to see, or to pretend like nothing had happened.

And Arkham, who was staring directly down the lens, teeth bared in a snarl. Part jealousy, part disbelief, part genuine fury that there was a Riddler out there who was willing to give in to such human urges during the most important part of their work together so far.

Wiping your face with your sleeve, you placed kisses along Eddie’s thighs and shuffled out from under the desk, making sure you weren’t visible on camera. It would be better to leave it as an uncertainty, a mystery. At least until next time. You might be kind enough to introduce yourself then.

#THIS #im late but #THIS IS A TREAT I LOVE IT SM #my boi 😭 #my boys 🥰 #finnie writes #Zero Year and Unburied being lil shits ugh #gotham and dano being genuinely concerned though ✨🥺 #and Arkham being domineering #i wonder what would happen if puzzle grandla were there #oamcjje i #finnieee😩💝✨ #the riddler #young justice!riddler #young justice riddler #young justice riddler x reader

[quandaryqueen]

Whole Day Off: The Meal

Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Female Reader

Summary: After being invited out to attend a romantic dinner with the infamous Scarecrow, you find that his intentions are as complicated as ever as he enjoys your company. (6.3k words)

(tw for: outdoor sex, fingering, dirty talk, orgasm, mild voyeurism, cum marking, unprotected sex, mild sub/dom dynamic, possessive behaviour etc)

Whole Day Off Masterlist

Link to AO3 Series

Enjoying a dreamless sleep as your body recovers from your play, it’s no less shocking when Crane’s hands wrap around your upper arms and shake you awake with clear urgency pinching at his tone.

“Up now, little mouse. You need to get ready and move.”

“Wh-hello?” Groggily sitting up, you adjust to his presence before you with bleary features – eyes narrowed and mouth feeling dry as hell as you stretch your arms overhead. The residual aches from your earlier fuck are quick to make themselves known as you wince in discomfort.

“In a few moments, Waylon Jones, better known to most people as Killer Croc, will be visiting to drop-off some necessary equipment for my experiments. I have no time to hide you so you must play your part again as a victim and play it well.” His words are even despite the hurried tone and Crane’s hands clasp over your own as he pulls you to your feet.

Still disorientated from your broken sleep, it takes you a moment to follow his gaze but doing so forces your eyes to the dental chair and your throat tightens as you realise what he’s asking. You may have forgiven him for the mess with Sionis but you had not forgotten and the discomfort which roiled in your chest every time the dental chair caught your eye was undeniable.

At your feet, your clothes lie in a messy pile and you bend in place to snatch them up. Pulling on your long-abandoned shirt with trembling hands, you focus on Crane’s words as he explains the situation with his typical, reserved attitude.

“Jones works for me from time to time doing grunt work. He will be dropping off some electronics I require so I will ask that you remain in the chair until he has left. Your presence will not seem off if you perform accordingly.” Pausing as though considering something, he is nevertheless quick to carry on. “I understand that you have no desire to find yourself back in the chair so soon but I can promise you that this situation will be nothing like the previous.”

Padding across the floor, tracing the familiar walk to the dental chair with a zombie-like gait, you sit down on it gingerly – every nerve in your body tensed and desperate to bolt as Crane follows your footsteps to stand before you.

"Waylon Jones is not a creature built on cruelty, nothing like Sionis. More a victim of his circumstances than anything. He will pay you no mind."

Struggling to articulate the whirlwind of anxieties and questions which are fluttering through your mind, Crane seizes the opportunity to speak again.

"Do you trust me?"

The question of the hour.

Nodding even though the agreement doesn't fully ring true within your heart, you allow him to secure you into the chair. Watching him with a trembling mouth, you notice how loose the restraints around your limbs sit and the dread within your chest lightens slightly as you take the merciful act as a small, unspoken apology of the previous mistreatment.

Quick to fix you in place and beat a hasty retreat, you startle as Crane's fingers brush along your jaw - an odd look playing on his features for only a moment before he schools it away and walks back to his workbench.

Unsure what to make of that, you banish the thoughts to focus on the task at hand.

Heavy footsteps approach within minutes and the stairs seem to tremble under the weight as Waylon Jones descends into the basement.

Trapped, you can't help but feel an awe-filled fear as you watch the hulking man struggle to fit down the somewhat narrow staircase. At seven feet, he towered over Crane, a fact made worse by the sheer bulk of him as green muscle filled the space. His reptilian skin looked tough and pitted, chest and upper legs covered by clothing which was slightly torn and frayed around the edges.

Across his back lay a large sack and Waylon carefully deposited it to the ground. It was massive and you could tell that it was heavy from the quiet thud of contact it made with the hard flooring.

"Good evening, Waylon." Crane greeted coolly. "How was the acquisition?"

Opening his mouth to reply, sharp rows of stained teeth shone from Waylon's inhumane maw. "Easy. There was no one in the building so I just grabbed it and went." He growled, his voice vibrating across the room as you kept up a showman struggle against the dental chair.

"Even stole a few extra bits, just in case."

"Excellent. Your payment is in the usual place." Audibly pleased, Crane clapped his hands together as he surveyed the collection. "Your work is an impeccable as always, Mr. Jones."

As Crane speaks, something seems to catch Waylon off-guard and he goes still. His body tenses and his head almost seemed to swim in the air for a moment as he scents something out with long inhales. After a moment, his head snaps in your direction and a visceral thrill of pure fear shoots up your spine.

Padded feet move a few feet in your direction and you freeze in position, pressing your back against the dental chair as Waylon comes to a stop a few feet away. Whatever faux fear you had feigned is now fully replaced by a very real horror as you realise that Crane would be unable to do anything should this monster decide to take a piece from you.

But nothing of the sort happened.

Something almost like regret washes through Waylon’s face as he stares at you, his nose continuing to flare as he sniffs out the fear which is no doubt pouring from you in waves as phantom memories of Sionis and how much more terrible this could be nips at your anxieties.

Waylon's snout twitches again, this time with confusion in his features, and he leans in closer to give you a more definite sniff. This close, you can see much more of his animalistic qualities; the reptilian eyes a subtle yellow as they sit neatly atop his slight snout.

"Waylon," Crane's voice rings out, firm and full of harsh warning, "away from her. Now. My work is no concern of yours."

Waylon ignores him and his snout twitches as he picks up on whatever he had been suspicious of. With the confirmation comes a sudden burst of anger as his reptilian eyes narrow and his features darken as he whirls on Crane.

"And they call me the monster." Waylon snarls lowly. "You're fucking them too? Using them like that?"

Truly furious, it was a frightening sight as Waylon stands to his full height and raises a threatening hand - the claws gleaming in the dim light - to Crane's chest. Shocked by the turn of events, any words you have die in your chest as you watch Crane refuse to back down.

"Waylon-"

"Don't ask me to work for you no more. No more favours, no more help. We're done."

Moving quicker than a seven-foot reptile should be capable of, Waylon pushes at Crane's chest with enough force to knock him clean onto his ass as a mixed expression of fury and confusion flashed across his features. It’s violent and shocking, a show of aggression which only amplifies the fear in your heart as sweat breaks out along your panicking limbs.

Still moving, Waylon was quick to return to you - his hands pulling free the restraints quickly as your struggle became real, not wanting this hulking beast to grab at you.

Mistaking your panic, Waylon wraps his arm around your body and picks you up easily as though you were a bag of sugar. Your breath catches in your lungs as he places you gently over his shoulder and you can feel one massive hand pinning itself to your lower back to secure you in place.

"I'll take you outta here, Miss. You can go to the Thompson clinic and tell Leslie you need help. She's good people. She'll help."

Through the shock and panic, something finally clicks in your mind and you burst into action, a surge of strength pulsing through your veins.

"I'm OKAY!" You yell, beating your fists on Waylon's scaled back as you watch Crane righting himself to his feet - his own breath clearly knocked from his lungs. "I’m okay! P-put me down, please!"

Waylon seems hesitant, pausing at the foot of the stairs, but follows your demand as he is unable to ignore your outburst and carefully plucks you from his shoulder to place you on your feet.

He says nothing, nostrils flaring as he watches you fix your outfit with trembling hands.

"I'm okay." You repeat. "He's not like th-he didn't rape me." You add explicitly, heading off the misunderstanding at its core.

"You sure?" Waylon asks, his back relaxing slightly as he settled onto his heels. "You don't gotta be frightened, his gas don't work on me."

Interesting to know.

"I'm sure. I come here because we're," you pause - unsure how to explain the mess that was your fraught relationship as you catch eyes with Crane for a moment, "seeing each other." You finish lamely.

Moving to stand behind you, the agitation which rolls off Crane makes the hair on the back of your neck stand to attention and you can feel how unhappy he is with this turn of events.

"Waylon, people can't know about her." Crane's low voice brushes past your ear and you lean back into him in a show of solidarity. "Sionis had a similar run-in and he has already come too close. You know what kind of man he is and if he knew the truth then…"

It's a subtle manipulation but one you play into as you allow fear to swallow your features. Waylon nods quickly, understanding alighting in his expression as he glances between the two of you.

"Secrets safe with me, Doc.” Waylon straightened his back to his full height, his head almost brushing the ceiling as he assumes a more relaxed stance. “And you seem nice.” His reptilian head tilting in your direction, Waylon continues as his gaze flicks to Crane. “She's pretty and seems nice. Too nice for-"

Waylon cuts himself off, a guilty look blossoming on his features as he realises the insult that he almost gave without thought.

Crane finishes it for him.

"Too nice for me. You're not wrong, Mr. Jones."

x-x-x-x-x

With Waylon gone, Crane’s agitation seemed to ebb and flow as he paced the basement with a firm determination.

“Waylon is dependable and discrete. His knowledge won’t impact anything.”

Unsure if the statements were directed at you or more of an external monologue, you answer regardless as you finish slipping your feet into your shoes.

“He seems fine enough. The papers and news are always very cruel about him and the things he’s been accused of.” And it was true. A Killer Croc appearance on the news was irregular and often accompanied by alleged sightings which contained footage that put the Bigfoot evidence to shame in terms of how shoddy it was; anything to bolster the reports of cannibalism and cruelty. “He also knows how to treat a woman.”

Responding to the tease with a thoroughly sour look, Crane stops his movements long enough to pin you with a scowl.

“Am I to take that as a criticism?”

“Take it as you like.” You answer evenly.

“In that case, I will discard the invitation to dinner which was simmering within my thoughts.”

Now wait a minute. “Dinner?”

“Yes.” Crane nodded. “Did we not discuss sharing a meal? I know your apartment was suggested and offered; however, I do realise that such short notice wouldn’t be considered polite or feasible.”

Your underfed stomach making itself known at the very prospect of a decent meal, the subtle rumble perks your attention up as you pretend to consider the offer – a recollection of actually offering your own apartment lacking in your memory.

“It would be rude of me to decline such a generous offer, Dr. Crane.”

“A dinner then. Meet me at this address at 7pm and I will reserve the space.” Scrawling the information on a slip of paper that he snatched up from his work desk, Crane thrust it within your hands. “Get a cab. I’ll also arrange the return trip.”

Not feeling like you had much of a choice in the matter as you look at the address - the restaurant not too far away based on its postcode. Excited by the prospect, you give an eager nod as a girlish flutter afflicts your stomach; your mind already vaguely scoping out your wardrobe for something nice to wear.

“Sure.”

x-x-x-x-x

Nervously tugging at the edge of the tablecloth as your fingers dance along the tacky red and white plaid, the passing waiters occasionally flick their eyes towards your table as they hold off on making any approach until your other guest has seated himself. Having elected to throw on a simple black dress paired with some low heels, you had even made enough of an effort to put on a little makeup – your eyes enhanced by a smudge of eyeliner while a neutral red colour tinges your lips.

Catching a cab had been easy enough and you were five minutes early, a fact you had made the host aware of as you walked in and requested the table for Gruidae, following Crane’s earlier instructions to use the false name. He had made the booking, and the spot you were reserved was far from the bright lights which flooded the centre of the restaurant. It was a nice, intimate booth with comfortable room for two while allowing for a little privacy.

Speak of the devil.

A dark shape covered the table for only a moment as Crane walks past your elbow, stopping at the side of the booth as he pauses to take in your appearance – a choice while allows you do to the exact same as something fond curls in your chest at the sight of him.

Surprisingly, Crane also seems to have made an effort.

More used to seeing him in his lab coat and simple shirts, the deep brown suit which hangs off his body is quite stunning, if a little outdated. A grey shirt, one you don’t recognise, sits below the suit jacket and the ensemble fills him out nicely as it takes the edges away from his gaunt frame.

“Hi.”

“Good evening.” Crane replies evenly, seating himself across from you as he unbuttons his jacket. “That’s quite the dress, little mouse.”

Pressing your elbows together to enhance the low dip of your cleavage, you don’t miss the way his eyes drop to enjoy the view before darting back up to your face.

“This old thing?” You smile, careful not to catch the edge of the brand-new dress on the wooden leg of the table. “I wasn’t sure how intense the dress code was. Your suit is lovely, by the way, makes you look very handsome.”

He shrugs the compliment off with ease, a disbelieving casualness that speaks to how rarely anyone much say something positive about him.

“It’s cold out there and I doubt my typical attire would be appreciated.”

“The lab coat?”

“I was thinking more about my costume and mask, witty girl. A touch too recognisable to allow for a nice meal.”

Feeling slightly embarrassed but enjoying the teasing quality of the simple conversation, you let it slide as your waiter appears by the side of the table.

“Some drinks for the table?”

“Large glass of house red.” Crane answers without missing a beat, his gaze settling on you as he continues. “And?”

“Vodka and lemonade, with a splash of blackcurrant.”

“Excellent. I’ll get those through for you.”

As the waiter departs, his polished back shoes tapping along the tiled flooring, you notice Crane watching you with a question lurking in his gaze.

“Yeah?”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to order a hard spirit.” He confesses with a deadpan tone. “I was expecting something more muted. Or sensible.”

“I like vodka.” Feeling defensive, you drop your elbows from the table. “Mixes with anything and doesn’t cloud my judgement as much as wine.”

A fact which makes the slightest smirk touch at his lips. “Why the need for a clear head? Are you nervous, little mouse?”

“No.” You lie, butterflies fluttering within your chest. “I’m just not much of a risk taker.”

At that, he can’t hide his disbelief as a scoff quickly fizzles into a doubtful stare. “Is that so? And what would you call agreeing to attend a dinner with a wanted madman? A person who has mistreated and abused your lovely body in the most carnal of ways?”

Smiling politely at the waiter, his sudden reappearance causing Crane to drop his point as he accepted his glass of wine without thanks, you take a short sip of your drink as you fix Crane with a teasing look.

“I call that a free dinner.”

“And what gave you the impression I was paying for this outing?”

“I seem to recall you coming into a substantial amount of money recently from a mutual friend of ours. I assumed that some of that money would benefit me in some way. Since, well, you know…”

Trailing off, you offer him a sweet smile and Crane is unable to hide the amusement which floods his features as he finds himself manipulated into agreeing.

“In that case,” he sipped from his wine, “I suppose that it would be the polite thing to do.”

x-x-x-x-x

After another two rounds of drinks and a dinner which was admittedly quite delicious, your decision to wash away the creamy carbonara which now sat warmly in your stomach with a lemon and raspberry cheesecake – the tartness of the dessert cutting across your tongue beautifully – was one which you couldn’t hide your pleasure at.

Humming away contentedly as you cut another small piece with your fork, you allowed Crane to continue with his discussion. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was the comfort of such a tasty meal, but the reserved nature which Crane always revelled in had mellowed and with it came a great opportunity to ask questions which you had always been too nervous to.

“And which of the other costumed villains do you have the least amount of time for?”

It also turned out that Crane was quite the opinionated man when it came to his thoughts on others. A trait which you would have easily describes as ‘bitchy’ had it been applied to any other person.

“Joker is the least dependable to associate with but a necessity if one wishes to remain aware of the more dangerous plots occurring across the city.” Crane scowled, his spindly finger tapping his glass as a subtle flush sat high on his cheeks. “Dent fears me in a primal way and his fear manifests as aggression which makes any interaction a risk as he is very vocal in his desire to blow a hole in my chest with his magnum. Recent events have also placed Sionis low on my list.”

Pleased with that, you tilt your head and give him a small smile, ignoring the little voice in your head that was determined to remind you of his guilt in that manner. The restaurant around you was quiet with only a few other tables filled with various pairs and one small family tucked away in one of the corner booths. All people with their own lives and absolutely no awareness of the monster who sat amongst them nor the woman who he held within his grip.

“If you are finished, I will settle the bill and meet you by the front doors.”

Glancing down at the almost empty plate, you can’t face the last few bites and so you give him a quick nod, standing from your chair as you drain the last of your drink – the ice clinking against your teeth.

Moving to walk past him, you pause long enough to run your hand across his shoulder as your head drops to his cheek.

“Thank you for dinner.” You mutter, pressing a soft kiss against his jaw, the stubble there grating against your lips.

His response is a non-committal grunt and you fight the urge to roll your eyes as you pull your jacket on and head towards the front door of the restaurant. Stepping out into the cold night, you shudder at the sudden chill as your eyes take in the surroundings.

Above you, the moon hangs against the blackened sky in a lovely crescent shape. The streets are dead, only a few shambling bodies of finished workers and drunks from the bar two blocks over stumbling their ways home. Feeling pleasantly warmed due to the vodka stirring your insides, it still isn’t enough to combat the cold air and you cross your arms to your chest since you are unable to do much about the chill accosting your bare legs.

Crane joins you quickly enough, the scent of red wine on his breath as he passes you closely. Curious as to how he plans to get you home, you voice your concerns.

“Are we getting a cab?”

Standing to his full height, Crane tilts his head down at you and his features are as stoic as ever but a slight playfulness seems to be touching at his eyes.

“On such a night? No. I think we can manage the short walk to the warehouse. It should take around ten minutes.”

Taking his arm within your own, a bold movement which causes him to cock a brow, you allow him to lead you on the correct path as you mutter beneath your breath.

“What was that, little mouse?”

Crane’s elbow digs into your side as he awaits an answer and you glance to the side as you meet his gaze head-on.

“Cheapskate.”

His response is a measured huff, somewhere between annoyance and amusement, but he doesn’t deny the claim as his long legs march across the sidewalk forcing you to keep pace.

It really is a beautiful night and your thoughts are jumbled as you walk in a companionable silence. Dinner had been lovely, not just the food, but to get to watch the infamous Scarecrow in a much more relaxed and intimate setting was interesting. He was as brash as ever, his twisted morality making his answers to questions honest and refreshing as much as they were, at times, concerning.

Even his body language was more relaxed as he wined and dined.

The tension which littered his every word and action appeared lessened, his lips quicker to quirk into genuine amusement as he enjoyed your discussions. Your life, much less interesting than his, had taken up less of your shared time as a wicked curiosity controlled your own tongue – forcing you to ask questions about a world you had no interest in visiting.

So lost in your own thoughts, when Crane eventually tugs at your arm to grab your attention it comes as a genuine shock and you gasp in surprise.

“I have been considering your denial that you engage in risk taking behaviours.” He says, his head twisting to either side as he examins the empty street around you both. “It interests me.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Curious to why he had stopped, you follow his gaze to see the same emptiness filling the space. Apartments surround you, some with lights on and most without, and to your right is an alleyway which leads to the emergency fire exits of two separate apartment blocks.

“I think it’s a claim we need to further examine.” Thin hands shift to drop to your waist, snaking their way within your jacket to grip at your dress where it covers your hips. It’s a rough touch, one which makes your cheeks flush as you feel the air between you thicken as he stands before you, blocking out anything which isn’t him.

“You say that like I’m not walking back to your basement with you.” You counter, your own hands coming to a rest atop his forearms, fingers stroking along the thick material of his suit. “A place where i’ve been tied up and abused more times that I’d like to count.”

“I wasn’t thinking of waiting that long.”

In a flash of movement, his hands grow even tighter around your hips as he pulls you into the darkened alleyway to your right – the only illumination coming from the crescent moon which hangs in the sky and the neon flashing of a nearby pharmacy sign. So caught off guard by the sudden change of position, you issue a short yelp as his hands push you roughly against the wall, the harsh brick pressing against your back as his much larger body caged your own.

Anxiety clawing at your chest as your eyes struggle to accustom themselves to the darkness, Crane’s enveloping presence also sparks heat in your groin; your cunt clenching pitifully as warmth floods your lower stomach. His touch is always electric and here, in this filthy alleyway where anyone could be watching, it feels even more alive.

Bearing down against you, the scent of his cologne is strong and his leg moves to fill the space between your thighs. His groin hot against your hip, you can feel the growing hardness there as he assails you. Sighing as his hand rides up your dress, you spread your legs apart to allow him easier access as his fingers ghost across your thigh.

“Dr. Crane?” You interrupt, tone forcing itself to be as empty as his own, if a little strained as your heart flutters.

“Yes?”

“Your hand is up my dress.”

“And how does that make you feel, little mouse.” Playing the game, Crane’s piercing eyes pin you into place in a way his hands never could.

“It’s hot.” You groan, shifting your weight so that his hand is forced to move across your panties; the fabric there already feeling wet as he thumbs it lightly. “It makes me feel wanted, but I’m scared that we’ll get caught and someone will see us.”

“Scared, witty girl? Oh, I doubt that.” Crane chuckles, his voice low and dangerous. “We haven’t played with your true fears in too long. This here, what you are experiencing, is a mild anxiety nothing more, but I may have a cure.”

“A cure? What- oh.” Your question is killed off by the sudden pressure of his fingers as he slips them past your panties to sink two digits into your cunt, the flush of pleasure making your grip of his arms tighten as you press down on his hand.

“Responsive as ever.” He mutters, fingers gently curling within you as he pumps them slowly, taking his time to feel out every slight flutter and clench of your walls as he teases you. “I think that fucking a known supervillain in a filthy alleyway is a perfect method of exposure therapy to overcome that pesky anxiety.”

Shuddering into his chest as you press your head forward, your right hand trembles as it fumbles messily with his fly – desperate to please him as his fingers slipped free of your cunt to stroke smoothly along your slit.

It takes only a moment for you to free him, snaking his cock through the opened fly as it juts free proudly, the length twitching in your grasp as you match your movements to his own – the alcohol in your veins making you bold while your head spins.

He doesn’t make a sound but his lips part slightly as you stroke your hand across his length, its weight familiar and heavy in your palm as the velvety skin responds to your attention by growing stiffer with every passing moment. You both continue like this for a few minutes, the silence only punctuated by deep breaths and restrained grunts, your own control much less practised than Crane’s as you use his chest for support.

“The Scarecrow demands payment, witty girl. He had fed you, watered you, and allows you to walk safely through these evening shadows safely.” Growling the demand into your ear, his lips tickle your skin and you can’t help but give a childish giggle in response before gathering yourself as you tighten your grip on his cock.

“And what does he want from me?” You moan as Crane’s middle finger rubs delicately across the hood of your clit, gently stimulating the nub below. “I don’t have any money to offer him and I’m too weak and helpless to survive any of his wicked experiments.”

“Lies.” Crane accuses, breaking character for only a moment before regaining his composure. “But the Scarecrow has a different fate in store for you. You who spreads your legs so easily for a monster that you would let him fuck you in this decrepit alleyway if he asked.”

“God, yes, I would. Please-please ask him to fuck me.” You stutter out, rolling your thumb across the sensitive line between his cockhead and shaft – a motion which you know drives him wild.

It gets the desire result and your breath catches in your lungs as his hand pulls free of your panties to instead grip your shoulders, forcing you to turn around as face the wall as he maintains a rough presence against your back.

Flipped in position, the cool brick of the wall is rough against your face and you bring your forearm up to act as a barrier as you feel his hands pulling up the hem of your jacket and dress, exposing your underwear and ass to the night breeze.

“I’m going to fuck you right here and now, little mouse.” Fingers squeezing your ass roughly, Crane grinds the tip of his cock against your cunt as he croons the words into your ears. “And if anyone sees us then all they will see is the great Scarecrow and his willing mistress, a foolish little mouse who lets a monster use her for his own pleasure.”

His words going straight to your cunt, your thighs rub together for only a moment before being forced apart by his hand as he guides his cock to your aching hole.

His mistress.

His dear one.

Sentimental musings quickly put to bed as he wraps his arm around your waist, thin fingers delving within your cleavage to grope roughly at your left tit as he sinks his cock within you in one sharp thrust; your cunt so wet and willing that he meets almost no resistance as he buries himself fully.

Body aching with need, you meet his savage thrusts with enthusiasm, pushing your ass against him as he ruts within you – his thin body pressing against your back and making you feel every inch of his presence as he consumes you, inside and out. Groaning and mewling, the noises reverberate in the alleyway until Crane’s fingers press into your mouth, two digits pressing down on your tongue to mute you as much as possible.

His free hand also snakes its way around your body as his long limbs allow him to access the front of your sex, a cruel finger quickly resuming his torment of your clit as you buck and writhe against him.

Of the things that you liked about him, his quick study and commitment to retaining your every reaction is certainly up there and your legs feel unstable as he manipulates the sensitive hood and skin surrounding your clit without touching the nub itself.

Unable to speak due to the fingers in your mouth, you bite down on the digits roughly and bask in the pained growl which issues into your ear as he retracts them. He responds in kind though, his breath hot on your neck for a moment before blunted teeth sink into your skin in a rough bite, his tongue massaging the mark as you arch your back into him.

“Dr. Crane!” You moan, the words punctuated by a shuddering breath as his cock continues to glance off your cervix in a deliciously uncomfortable way. “Jonathan, please, I-”

“I think I like it when you say my first name, witty girl.” His groin flush against your ass as he remains buried to the hilt within you, Crane’s breathing was stilted and punctuated by soft pants of exertion. “I should hear you beg with it more often.”

A statement which makes your cunt spasm as the heat and merciless pressure of his cock finally snaps the tight band of arousal which had been steadily building within your groin, your release hitting with a guttural groan as you bury your mouth within your forearm to mask the sound. Pleasure cascades through you as your cunt is filled and pulses around him.

Determined to reach his own end, Crane revels in the way which your cunt wraps around his cock, every spasm and clench of your orgasm pulling him deeper as it milks him for what it’s worth. His hand, mercifully, drops from your clit and instead returns to your chest, his fingers pinching viciously at your nipple as he uses your body for leverage.

You recognise the tell-tale warnings of his release before it hits. His breathing grows even more erratic as his thrusts grow sloppier, hands increasing their grip as if to pin you in place and leave you unable to escape while he marks you as his own. With an animalistic grunt that almost matches your own, his mouth presses against your neck as he buries his cock as deeply as possible within you.

Heat floods your cunt as you realise that, in the whirlwind of the moment, neither of you had bothered with any protection and the realisation makes you groan as you feel the fullness of his release coating your walls. Your birth control would take care of any peskiness but the sensation of him filling you in such a primal way makes your cunt spasm anew as you grind against him.

It’s not until he pulls out a few moments later that you relax your body, almost falling backwards into him as you feel him tucking his softening cock away. Your jacket and dress are still ruched up around your waist but you’re content to remain like this as you feel him shift your panties back into position. His fingers brush your sensitive hole and you shudder in place as you feel the wet discomfort of your mixed release as it leaks free of you to quickly stain the fabric – your thighs feeling just as damp due to his earlier teasing.

Your head feels light as Crane spins you in place, twisting you so that your back is now pressing against the cool brick of the wall. His face is flushed, the sharp features mellowed by his satisfaction but his eyes remain as piercing as ever, the irises appearing darker due to the dilation of his pupils.

“You’re going to walk home like this.” Crane purrs, his hand cupping your sex through the panties, smearing the mess there further with his fingers. “As a reminder of who you belong to and just how far the Scarecrow will go to teach his little mouse how to overcome her petty anxieties.”

The sticky mess between your legs is uncomfortable but hot as hell and you nod dumbly in agreement, the inhibition of the vodka mixing with the recently-fucked bliss to make you painfully compliant as you keep a soft hold of his shoulders for balance.

His hand pulls free from under your dress and he quickly fixes the rest of the material for you, tugging at the base to even out the hemline before adjusting the neckline to ensure that your chest was covered. Letting him do as he wished, you instead focus your attention on his expression, drinking in the familiar haze which settles across his features when he’s also freshly fucked and clearly pleased.

“Thank you for dinner.” You hum out once again, voice sated and almost drowsy as you allow him to take the lead and link his arm within your own – his auburn hair in a state of disarray due to the breeze and the sweat which sits on his hairline. “It was nice.”

His head turns to you as he fixes you with an unreadable expression.

“Think nothing of it. I feel it was somewhat overdue and owed.” He comments, eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the shiver which consumes your upper body at the chilly evening. With a smooth movement, his hands slip within his pockets to pull free a pair of thin, dark gloves; his fingers quick to pass them to you silently as he presses you to place them on.

Thankful for the small gesture, you smile up at him as your thighs stick together uncomfortably with every small step. You pull the gloves on, the material clearly too big for you but effective nonetheless as it kept the cold from your fingers.

In the frigid night, the moon hanging high against the bleak sky, you tuck your body as closely to Crane’s as you reasonably can as you seek out something unspoken which you doubt he is capable of giving. He allows it though, his arm linked within your own acting as an anchor more than anything but his thoughts are his own as he mindlessly leads the way back to his warehouse hideout.

Bringing your free hand to your chin, you inhale deeply and find satisfaction in the fact that the thin leather of the gloves holds a muskiness which you recognise as something uniquely him and you allow that small comfort to warm your thoughts as you ignore the pleasant ache and fatigue which makes your body feel heavier than it should.

Still, not the worst dinner you had ever sat through.

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #jonathan crane smut #sir #SIR #um 😳🥰 #dittyyyyy omggg 😭 #i cant #what are thoughts i can't even articulate #dang #hot diggity #jonathan crane x you

[quandaryqueen]

Having a bruise is great it’s like a second clitoris but it only does masochism

[quandaryqueen]

I've been taking clips as batman unburied releases and saw someone else post something like this so I knew what I had to do

[quandaryqueen]

Late night talks

Batman Unburied Riddler X Reader

Rendered sleepless at midnight, two friends spills their heart out together.

Sleep is a luxury the Riddler cannot afford. Something he finds irksome, he'd like to have a dose some zzz's for the night please. But his hapless attempt to sleep only drove him count passing cars by the window. His elbow on the ledge, and his chin on his palm whilst his eyes followed passing vehicles for entertainment. He would do the paperwork, but he just finished it earlier. Finished it way too early, actually. The thing wasn't due until next week, but Edward cannot pass up an opportunity to keep himself occupied. He liked working on it, made his fidgety fingers keep themselves busy instead of trembling and shaking over nothing. Maybe he shouldn't have drank the second cup of coffee that morning.

... Sometimes he thinks about what had driven him in this path. To be in your room, on a warm bed, with food and clothing, a job in the Wayne enterprise, protection from his previous affiliations and opposition's. He is used to the lack of heat in his narrow little cell, nothing but the four corners, ceiling and floor to keep him entertained if he's not talking to cell neighbors... Then there's the guards, hostile mouth breathers (can't really say that he missed them), the correction officers, the nurses, the doctors and their incessant pen clicking. The police officers that'd drag his ass back in Arkham after roughing him up with his ego... Yeah, this new life is certainly a new leaf turned.

Rehab was really something.

After rehabilitation he really didn't know where to go, then you were there, his best friend from high school. The one that saddled themselves with the weird kid in class. At first he really thought your friendship was a trap, something that made you benefit off him. But you stuck with him through thick and thin, much to his surprise. Got yourself socked once after telling some jock and his friends off when they picked on Edward. It was redundant for you to scratch a guy's motorcycle to stop them from attempting to extort Edward by holding his bag hostage, but there you were. For the remainder of the week, he couldn't bear to look at your face, with the nasty bruise left under your eye was a constant reminder of his fuck up being passed on you.

It's no different after high school and college, you were always there being his voice of reason.

'Let's take another route to avoid Greg.'

'You and I can share a lunch.'

'I haven't seen you drink water. Here.'

'Unclench your jaw.'

'It's alright... I'm here for you.'

'Have you taken your meds?'

'Are you okay?'

'Told you so.'

And in his crooked schemes, somehow he managed to rope you into his mess. Doctor Crane had once got back at the Riddler through you. The man registered under a different name to replace your therapist and you ended up overdosing in the therapist's office with fear toxin if it weren't for Batman and his handy dandy utility belt. As much as possible, he didn't want you involved with his crimes. And he really tried. He went as far to cut himself off and yet someone managed to reach you because of him.

It was only a matter of time before he moves out. You've always been so kind to him, but he didn't want to overstay his welcome. You were too kind, telling him it's okay if he lived with you, incessant, almost pleading for him to stay.

"Ed?"

He glanced behind him to see you seated on the bed, rubbing your narrowed eye. His face twists with guilt.

"Sorry, did I woke you?"

"No, no. It's just... No, you didn't woke me up." You threw the blanket aside to stand on your feet. The haziness of sleep had you drawling on your words whilst supressing a yawn.

Edward found it comforting when you sat beside him by the window, a certain heat radiating off your body when you place your arms on the ledge and nestle your chin within it. You basked in the solace of silence, following his cue to watch the cars pass your apartment building. He liked the fact he can be comfortable in complete silence for with, no need for the needless chat to fill in the void. It was just you and him, gazing upon to horizons of Gotham City and its kind of unique beauty from your quaint little apartment.

"Can't sleep?" You asked.

But of course, he also welcomes the late night conversation with you.

"Yeah," he sighs, his gaze turning to you to confirm the 'i told you so' look on your face. There it is, that small smile of achievement. But before you can reply anything, he finds himself chuckling. "I know, I know. Shouldn't have drank a second cup."

"Told you so." You both said in unison, his tone mimped and high pitched to imitate yours in contrast to your 'just woken up' hoarse voice. You both laughed at the synchronization, and all you can think about is how he knows you too much.

Then there was a pause. Something Edward would usually dread, hating nothing more than that stretch of quietness but this was just fine. He didn't felt the need to fill it in again. He doesn't really worry about anything when he's with you, didn't need to choose his words carefully in fear of getting hurt.

"Remember that one time in ninth grade when Terrence Dean slipped a letter in your locker?"

Edward winces at the mention of one of his old crushes. Unfortunately, he still remembers. Terrence Dean, his very first heart break. It wasn't even something he calls his first love, because the guy was faking it.

"Yep. What about him?"

There was a distant look of recalling in your eyes. "I really thought he was a good kid, ya know? Just a boy that's caught in the wrong crowd with Greg. I thought you guys were like... Good together."

"Turns out he's a gaping asshole. Helped him with school, trusted him with my vulnerabilities and then he just... Tells everyone at school. Lied about his feelings about me." Edward sighs, as if experiencing it again. How he can't look everyone in the eye out of shame, how exposed he felt, how betrayed... He didn't even hear Terrence apologize.

"Yeah. He's just an insecure chucklefuck trying to fit in with Greg and the others. He didn't deserved you at all."

Then add in the fact that Terrence also joined in with Greg at making fun Edward, throwing taunts at his directions and dumb kids being dumb kids, blurted out slurs. Thankfully, vocal youths today do not tolerate hurling slurs towards a boy who loves a boy.

"This is something I wouldn't even wish on my worse enemies. It fucked me up for quite some times." He lost the ability to trust others, subsequently turning his back on you out of defense, something he still feels guilty for especially when you took the time to regain the trust that you didn't betray. Fuck, you didn't even do anything at all, he was just being stupidly defensive.

"Sorry that I turned against you even if you didn't do anything." He says with a soft voice and this isn't the first time he's apologized for it.

For as long as you remember, upon recalling this memory, whenever he'd confide to you about it, he'd always turn to apologize to you. But your answer remains the same.

You softly smile at him, placing a hand on him, thumb caressing his shoulder. "It's alright. Though we can both agree, that motherfucker is the lowest of the low."

"Mhmm. And it was certainly a funny coincidence that he ended up going to school with a blackeye while you had your wrist in a splint." Edward noticed your expression grow timid and eventually, you retrieve your hand to hide the lower half of your face in your nest of arms.

"Hehe, yeah..." Your reply was a stupid attempt to play innocent and you knew it. It was both the fact that Edward is smart enough to figure out, combined with the decades of familiarity and fondness, he knows you like the back of his hand. So there wasn't any use for lying, so you drop the act with a groan. "Fucker had it coming. In my defense, I only intended to talk but then he started bad mouthing you."

It wasn't something one should be proud of but... Your broken wrist was worth it after that good ol' satisfying swing.

"Then there's Pamela Hewitz in eleventh grade." He laughs in dismay, shaking his head in disappointment. He wished that high school aged Edward had better taste in pursuing romantic partners.

"Another gaping asshole." You flatly add, remembering Pamela's emotional abuse and unhealthy attachment to Edward.

Constantly holding him as an emotional hostage, threatning to hurt herself if he leaves her. Time and time again, you'd tell Edward that what Pamela was doing to him was atrocious. But he didn't listen, he insisted that you just didn't understand her. There was a time Pam followed you thinking that you were secretly meeting Edward because he didn't respond to her phonecall. She was really out there thinking that stalking you is cute.

"Agreed. The fucker had the gall to accuse me of cheating on her with you, when she herself was cheating on me."

"Yeah, talk about projection"

You remember how Edward cried on your chest upon finding out about Pamela's affair. How he was at the verge of throwing up from tears, he couldn't breathe. How you wanted to murder her. Though you ended up bruising her nose after slamming her face on a wall. Then after that you curled up with Edward.

"Speaking of exes, remember Bradley Doyle from college?" He turns his body to face you.

"The guy with the glasses in your ethics class?"

"Yeah. Ran into him yesterday and just... Smiled at each other, but I was busy to catch up so I kinda just left. I highly regret that."

"Hmm, yeah. Nice guy. Why'd you guys split again?"

"He broke it off. He was buried in heaps and heaps of stress, then there's his parents' pressure and he broke it off because he didn't want to be a burden to me." Edward sighs, his hand finding itself grasping his other wrist, running his thumb on his forearm. "I tried my best to say that he's not a burden, but he insisted. I think it's his thing about not wanting to rely on someone else to fix him."

"Oh um... The thing where he's scared to drag you down with him?"

"I think? Maybe... One time he told me about his father's mental instability and how he used his mom as a crutch, subsequently making her unstable as well. Maybe he's scared that something like that will happen to us. I didn't want to push further, so he and I parted ways. Good to know that he looks healthy, glowing even."

"Yeah, he was sweet." Your eyes mischievously turn to him to match with your crooked grin. "Who's next?"

"Well, at some point Mad Hatter and I--"

"Oh my god, shut up," your slacked figure shot up with wide eyes to face him.

Edward giggles, finding your shock delightful. "No, just kidding. He and I are just friends. Besides, he has his Alice."

"Fucking hell, bro." You settle back to your relaxed posture, your arms once again in the ledge and your chin propped within it.

"You really thought he and I can be together?"

You brows knit. "I guess? I mean after you became the Riddler, you just... We kinda drifted apart and for all I know you're into guys like him."

The answer was something honest, something you said with no intention to make him freeze with guilt... Drifted apart wasn't the word, he intentionally cut you off. Turns out it didn't really do any good. He can't stress enough that you've always been there for him. Always. He can't think of a time wherein you turned your back against him.

"I'm sorry about that... I wasn't thinking clearly."

"Oh Eddie, it's o--"

"It's not okay, Y/N. It's-- you always forgive me. Even if I hurt you severely. Hell, you get hurt because of me. Crane almost killed you that one time, when you got a blackeye from Greg-- all because of me!" He studied your appearance and you barely waver. You continue to stare at him with your soft, kind eyes when you should be mad at him for getting you hurt, involved by personal affiliations and familiarity.

"It's not your fault. What I did to Greg back then, I knew the consequences and I continue to do it—"

"Because of me."

"Yes, but that's beside the point. I did something unnecessary, I scratched his dumb bike when I could have just tried to get your bag back and because of it I got hit. As for Scarecrow, it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself for things that are happening to me as your mistakes."

"He wouldn't have gone after you because of--"

"Edward." You stop him with a stern mention of his name. The moment he sat rigid in his skin, your expression softened. "It's not your fault. Okay?"

"I remain unconvinced."

"It's not your fault. None of it is. How many times do I have to say it?"

"You're just saying that because I'm your friend. To be frank, our relationship only fucks you up and over. And I don't think I've done anything to help you."

"That's not true! You've helped me! Remember that time when you slipped me a pen with answers during an exam?" He nods. "And when you'd help me study, teach me stuff from class, you're there whenever I cry, and just... Come on, do I really have to number the times you helped me through? Ed, you're like the only person who's been with me through all the bullshit I gone through. You know me better than my folks. I mean fuck, they think you're my boyfriend."

His face floods with blood. Boyfriend, huh?

You sucked in a breath, directing your gaze ahead at the city. "Remember back in high school when I rejected whoever asked to date me?"

"You told me that they don't meet your standards."

"Yeah, they didn't. That and their bad reactions to rejection. Besides, someone already has met my standards. Surpassed them even." You tried to hide away from his leer, thinking that you'd vanish if you bury your face further in your arms.

... He didn't want to assume, but is this a confession?

"Figured it out yet?"

Imagine that, Edward Nashton shutting up for once. Being at the state with a lost of words. He couldn't even pick his jaw up even if he tried.

"It's selfish of me, but the reason why I want you to stay here... Is because I genuinely love your presence. I love you. You make things bearable and I can't stand it when you're suffering alone. Whenever I'd leave you alone you would always do things that hurt you, whether that being internal or external forces. I guess it's my love for you manifesting as being protective of you."

You reluctantly lifted your gaze to glimpse at him. He's long since picked his jaw up and habitually clenches it. His eyes were distant with a certain stoicism at the revelation of your confession. Your hammering chest eventually tightens with anticipation and you deeply regretted looking up.

"I-I'm sorry-- you could just forget that this happened-- I shouldn't have-- fuck--" with every words leaving your lips, the more your throat strained, as if your own body was stopping you from spilling any more. How does one even undo this?

The moment Edward saw a tear prick from your eyes, he instantly held you to his chest just as you would to him. You welcome his embrace, though a little bit reluctant after you spew of confessions.

"Shhh... It's okay... Let it out..." Edward runs his hand on your back, letting you clench a handful of his shirt.

He didn't know how to respond. How did he not find out about it? And it was since high school? So you watched him go through relationships and not once did you interject out of selfish intent, but concern for him.

"I'm sorry, please don't hate me..." You hiccuped on his chest.

"No, no... I don't hate you. I wouldn't."

How could he not realised it sooner? How selfishly blind was he to not notice you looking at him from afar?

"When Scarecrow sprayed me with fear toxin... I saw you... I saw you dying and you told me you hated me, told me I was too clingy... The reason why I went to therapy in first place was because I was stupidly fucking depressed because I missed you so much."

"I'm sorry..."

You snorted a little, before sniffling. "I don't have to say it again, it's not your fault." If your years of friendship told you one thing, is that Edward will not allow you to have a final word. "Protest, I dare you."

He takes your face within his palms, tilting your head up to look up at him. You shyly avert your reddened puffed eyes, tears still streaming away whilst you sniffle in an attempt to not let snot fall from your nose. Sighing, he digs for his handkerchief and gently wipes the tears off your cheeks before he pinches your nose. Taking the handkerchief for yourself, you blew your nose.

"If you don't return the feelings, I understand. We can just forget about it. You're not really obligated to-"

"You're right about that, I don't return the feelings." You were hurt enough, but you nodded nonetheless. "But do you know the foundations of relationships are earned, right?"

"What are you implying?"

"I'd like to try dating you."

You blinked owlishly at him and before you knew it, tears were back at it again. With his handkerchief in hand, you furiously swipe at the bottom of your eyes.

"I told you you're not obligated to accept my feelings out of pity, Edward--!"

"I'm not!" He puts his hands on your shoulder. "That's why, I'd like you and I to go in a date. To try."

"Are you sure?" Your strained voice asked.

"Yes." His thumb rubs your shoulder. "What can't you have for lunch and dinner?"

You pondered for a moment. ".... Breakfast?"

"Correct. Now, why don't we start our date with breakfast? Then we can go out for some date activities?"

"O-Okay..." He lets you take him in your arms, your face buried on his tear-stained shirt. Edward smiles fondly and returns it. "Thank you for giving me the chance, Ed."

"Of course..."

#quandary reblogging ✨

[quandaryqueen]

Keith Browning absolutely nailing today’s Batober theme of Heartbreak.

[quandaryqueen]

S H I T

[quandaryqueen]

Damn 👀

Credit: svnkuzi on TikTok

[quandaryqueen]

Every Jason line I could find in the DLC's audio files

#😭🥰✨😩😳👀💝🥺👁️🫦👁️

[quandaryqueen]

Wait

Young Justice Edward Nygma X Hero Reader

You were the one in chains, but he wasn't the one in charge.

Suggestive Content. Choking, pinning.

If there's one thing about nature that will continue to persist no matter the species, is that you shall not lay a finger on a single strand of hair of babies without anticipating the wrath of their mother. The universal trait among mothers and mother figures alike, the unbridled scorn and unfound strength that will unearth in the process of this blinding rage, should not be underestimated.

Edward learned that the hard way.

For one, in his defense, he has no personal vendetta against these children, he was merely following orders— immobilize children, hold them hostage, force information out of them through any means necessary— as you do. It was not his area of expertise, but his employers were the same people who assigned him to fight against them, one of the aforementioned being a Kryptonian clone, a Marsian, Magical, the fucking Robin— but he digress— and so it was not a shock for him to be assigned to this task, to watch over them, that is, he wasn't the one doing the information obtaining aspect. The only way he fits in this mission was the fact that he watches over them through cameras and induce electric shock if needed, so it was just him sitting in front of a monitor and control panels.

Everything was under his control...

Until you escaped your own containment, overpowered your assigned guards, endured electric shocks from your collar, managed to tear the aforementioned collar off your neck, navigate your way through an unfamiliar territory all the while defeating obstacles through the form of guards and find yourself in Edward's den. You defeated the guards on your way here, would Edward even stand a chance, oh that's out of the question, of course you can. Physically, you still have some juice in your but intellectually? Your brain was fried from all the electric shock.

But he's gotta hand it to you, you gave him quite the fight but he soon gained the upper hand when he managed to outsmart you. And all he needed to do was to step away before you can swing at him. Oh this was fueling his ego real good— H/N? Under his heel? All flushed and breathing heavily? Under his mercy? Ohohoho this should be photographed, printed, framed and placed on his bedside table, clearly this was a crucial moment—

Before the sight of you panting on the ground further supply his ego, you pounced up, the man squealing in surprise when you had the shackles thrown and twisted around his neck. He falls on his back, the air knocked off his chest, while you situated yourself on his hips. You were at the position where you had the ability to simultaneously further the gap between your wrists, resulting for the chains to tighten around his next whilst you pin his arms on either sides of his head. He could feel your chest rapidly rising and falling, the heat of your breath hitting his face— how you're the first person got this fucking close to him.

He struggles in an attempt to free himself, but instead found a certain friction which jolted him of his senses. This results for his to continue 'struggling' from beneath you.

"Where are they?" Oh you weren't fucking around, you were ready to strangle a bitch if they don't spill. Further emphasizing your point, you tighten the chains around his neck, a choked noise originating from his throat.

"Basement..." He managed to choke out. "With special access..."

You knew he was considered important enough to be granted those special access cards. With your hands occupied, you used your knees to feel through his pants' pocket. Experimentally, you stretch your fingers out just enough to reach his breast pocket to save time, causing Edward to stiffen and supress a moan, by throwing his head back.

"Do you not have that card?" You glared at him, after not finding anything of importance from his person, did you only notice the pleasure he derives from this.

Oh this pathetic loser.

Out of curiosity, you rolled your hips ever so slightly and under your gaze, you saw how visibly his breath hitch from his chest.

"... No." He answers, voice coarse with the shackle still around his neck. This is why he was placed in guarding duty, clearly they don't see him as crucial enough to be granted a special access ID Card, much to his chagrin... But it felt nice for you to assume he looked significant enough. "C-confidential..."

Testing the waters once more, you ground harder, causing him to forget about blocking his voice out. Oh what a sad little thing. You watch as red completely flushes his complexion and he looks at you, as if confirming whether he moaned internally or that you didn't hear it at all. Tilting your head, you begin lean back, causing Edward to close his eyes and bite down on his lip, disregarding his little slip up. With that, he began to feel an obstruction from within his pants, in desperate need to be freed from the constraints.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" You hissed above him, feeling his hardening cock poke your thigh.

Edward can only acknowledge you with a whine, sounding as though it was a protest but with his current state, he was just proving your point. Brows furrowed, breathing through gritted teeth, face completely tinged red. But it could because of the chain wrapped around his neck, his flimsy joke of an excuse attempts to justify. But he knows that you know it wasn't from that.

He wasn't even fighting it anymore.

"You're not really useful to me," you spoke above him, the chain around his neck tightening from the pull of your cuffed wrists.

"Wait—!" Edward chokes. "I-I can be!" He watches you raise a doubtful brow. Fair enough. He wouldn't trust him either. "They're at the basement. Special access cards."

"I already know that—"

"032604." He blurted out. "Code..."

He didn't have those damn cards due to his rank, but his eyes had been keen on the codes they punched on those doors. There was nothing Edward didn't know, no one was going to keep information from him.

The pressure around his neck grew lax and finally, you were unraveling the chain from his neck. That was greatly appreciated, oxygen was crucial for the head. Unfortunately, little head swayed the big head that he couldn't help but to feel disappointed when you peeled yourself off him. So there he was, in a prone position, watching through bleary eyes as you bear an expression of consideration. The prominent hard-on he can finally hide with his hands to preserve the remnant of his dignity.

He would glare at you, but then he raised you were raising a makeshift weapon above your head, ready to strike.

"WAIT—!" Edward once again exclaims, holding his arms before his face in defense.

It did nothing to dissuade your intent of knocking him out. It was your personal protocol to tie up loose ends before he can notify his higher-ups you've managed to escape. You don't know whether he thought of it or not, but it was better safe than sorry.

[quandaryqueen]

Checkmate

Gotham Edward Nygma X Reader

Just a game of chess.

🔞 MINORS DNI

I was confident-- no, arrogant. To think I'd beat the Riddler in a game of chess, blindfolded. I admit my fluency with the board of strategy is impressive, but I challenged the Riddler of all people.

"Checkmate."

I found myself biting my lip and rubbing my thighs together when my dearest friendly competitor pulled away after whispering a taunting proclamation on my ear. His lips a centimeter near my ear, almost nibbling at my sensitive skin. I let out a heavy breath, trying to recall where did I go wrong in my movements to result me to be placed in a corner, but alas I couldn't remember. I was too overwhelmed by the blindfold obscuring my vision and not only that, the way Ed talked to me made me feel unsure about my moves. I've competed whilst blindfolded, this shouldn't be any different, but why do I feel like this?

As I was about to unravel the blindfold around my eyes, I suddenly feel him grabbing my hand and tutting his tongue. I feel his warmth evade me once again in the form of his breath, nearing my neck. I froze up the close proximity, but kept my composure as if it wasn't already obvious I'm reduced into a pile of mess without being touched yet.

"We had a deal. Winner can do whatever they want with the loser.  Be an obedient doll and don't take the blindfold off." I feel his palm caress my face, the pad of his thumb stroking just under my covered eyes. "Understood?"

Apparently, my nod was not enough to quench his dominant approach of things when I suddenly felt my necktie being held and pulled forward. I feel his breath closer, his skin temperature at that and this rate, I don't I'll be able to keep up with whatever he'll do to me.

"Understood?" He asked, more stern and firm than the first time.

"Y-yes... Sir." I thickly swallowed, his grip on my necktie loosened and slipped form his grasp.

Was it bad of me to try and lean in for a kiss? For a moment his touch was absent, when suddenly I feel my necktie being pulled once again, before it unravels from my neck in an agonizingly slow manner, before I felt the aforementioned necktie being coiled around my wrists together. I don't know what he's going for honestly, is he planning to fuck me senseless or torture me with knives? At this point I don't know, but I won't stop him.

I feel his hand on my thigh, as he leaned closer to me once again, lips against my ear. He sighs, and yet again I feel myself tensing up at the sensation of his breathe alone.

"Let's play another game, shall we?" The vibrations of his baritone voice reverberated by my ear, before his lips finally neared me and began to nibble my ear.

I bit my lip, suppressing a whimper, my heightened senses doing nothing but to multiply throughout this agonizingly slow process.

"Get the riddle correct, I reward you. Get it wrong, I punish you, simple as that."

As he was finished with the instructions, his lips trailed by my jawline, before it lands on my neck. His tender kisses dotted my skin, sending me into a small fit of euphoria and satisfaction. Although I'm quite impatient, I kept my composure as calm as he is... At least, I try my best to keep up with him.

"Now first riddle." He pulls away and seemingly walks off, disappointing me to no end when his lips left my skin. "All day long it’s in and out. I discharge loads from my shaft. Both men and women go down on me. What am I?"

I wince, flustered at the riddle and what it connotations, but I knew the game he's playing. I let out a shaky breath before I parted my lips to speak the answer.

"It's an elevator."

"Correct." I hear him clap his hands in gleeful delight. "Which garment of yours do you wish to take off?"

"Take my blindfold off." That's the reward? Quite underwhelming in my opinion, but I chose not to voice my opinion. I heard nothing but silence, but he must've sensed my doubts regarding the rewards.

"No, that's not how we play the game. Choose another."

"Alright then, my coat." That way, he unties me and this gives me a chance to dominate him instead.

He makes his way towards me evident with his footsteps, before bending over. I expected the coil around my wrists to loosen, but something subverted my expectations that has me sharply gasping out. The sound of my coat being torn, before it finally left my body leaving me in my white button up shirt. I felt myself being lifted on my seat, before I was sat on his lap, straddling him.

"Second question," his fingers trailed along my neck, stroking it along my jawline. "I have a stiff shaft. My tip penetrates. I come with a quiver. What am I?" With every word, his voice dropped to a husky whisper.

My internal heat resulted me into a sweaty mess, but thankfully aided with a functional cool air-conditioning in the room. If it weren't for it I'd long passed out from heat. I breathed out, biting my lip for a moment of hesitation, before my wavering voice came out with the answer.

"An arrow."

"Correct!" Once again, I feel the tip of a sharp object run behind my back, tracing my spine so gently before my back was exposed to the cool of the air conditioning. A high pitched whine slips pass my lips, as the cold air-conditioning hits my bare back.

"I thought I'll be the one calling shots on which clothes you'll strip off me." I hissed, eyes narrowed at nothing because I'm blindfolded.

"Well I'm the winner. Winner does whatever the hell they want." He forcefully grasps my face. "Simple concept that you proposed and yet you couldn't seem to get it through that head of yours. What's the matter? Getting impatient?"

I intend to respond, opening my mouth to voice out my opinion when I feel his lips gently trailing under my earlobe, gently nibbling on my skin whilst his hand trailed on my bottom, caressing my thigh. It was enough to keep my words at bay, shock and pleasure hits me like a truck and I needed more. His slow, teasing pace was enough to power my impatience despite me being a patient person.

"I admit, you're good. No one has ever come close to making me... Inconvenienced during the game, I'll give you that." For a moment I felt his thumb feeling under my blindfold that I thought he was going to remove it, only for him to retrieve his hand and slide his fingers around the back of my neck, applying light pressure. "Do you know how rare that is?"

...

"No." I don't. For one, I thought I played horribly. Challenging him alone was a mistake, I already knew I would lose and I did... It didn't occur to me how despite I lost, I put up a fight.

"I usually hate people like those but--" his fingers tightened around my neck, as the vein in my temple flicked against my skull erratically. "-- you are an exception."

His fingers loosened around my neck and trailed to my arm. I then notice his free hand, his choking overshadowing the sensation of his hand on my thigh. His fingers lightly brushing over it, agonizingly soft and slow, just barely grazing a sensitive spot. If I were able to see, he must be scrutinizing the miniscule expression I have whilst he make me squirm on his lap.

"Next riddle...."

Oh this going to be long night.

#quandary reblogging ✨

[quandaryqueen]

Sick days

Batman Unburied Riddler X Reader

Just a peek at sick days between you and your close friend Edward...

Written as a platonic piece, but can be read as romantic. I want to try my hand to write this version. Also I wrote this when I was sick and in need of self-indulgent sick fics.

You awoke to a loud crashing from the outside of your apartment. Having been in Gotham for a long time, you were able to distinguish between troubling noises in the night or just the general city noise. You dreaded to identify the noise as the troublesome kind, that tonight you might not be getting your sleep.

You kept the bat by your bedside and pull your blankets off. It will never be your intention to fall asleep whilst something like this remain unresolved. Then there was another crash, and in your fear, your unabashed flinch had you swinging at nothing. It was justified, as the crashing was made inside your living space.

You make your way out of your room, the bat raised for your defense. Holding in a breath, you take your steps and then--

"I can be slender and wooden, I can be swung, I can fly, what am I?"

"AH!"

"NONONONONO! IT'S ME! IT'S ME! DON'T—!"

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, EDDIE! DON'T DO THAT!" Out of panic, your arms latched around his neck and pulled his head against your chest. "Jesus Christ, dude I thought I was going to die tonight. What the fuck, bro? You can at least text me and something."

"Funny that you say that... I think I'll be the one dying tonight." He coughs.

Alarmed, you pulled away. Out of the panic, you didn't realise the trail of blood that followed him from the window which he broke into and stained you upon embracing him. You looked down to see the thick crimson running down from his abdomen. Your face washed with an ash colour at the view before you.

"Hey-hey! Don't faint on me!" Edward snaps his fingers in front of your face, before placing both of his hands on your shoulders for balance. He subsequently leans his entire weight on you from the blood lost, making you almost lose your balance.

Profanities spilled from your lips like a mantra as you assisted him to your couch, before you shuffle around your house in search for the first aid kit... Would a first aid kit even do at these circumstances? He was bleeding on your couch and he was losing blood fast.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck... Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my fucking god! Eddie what the fuck happened? Dude! I have like a box Hello Kitty bandaids and rubbing alcohol, why the fuck would you go to me for medical assistance?! " You frantically mutter, getting your hands on a few towels and a basin of water. You threw your hands up. "Fuck this, I'm calling an ambulance--!"

"No..."

"Well I don't know what you want me to do Eddie! Do I look like I can perform an emergency surgery in my living room?! Fuck it, why do you not want to call the hospital?"

He looks at you with a raised brow. Does he really need to say that he is a crook? Goddamn it he just wanted to breathe out of Arkham but that's not the point.

"It's just a graze."

"WELL WHAT THE HELL HAVE I BEEN TELLING YOU? SO YOU'RE TELLING ME YOU GOT INTO ANOTHER ACTIVE SHOOT-OUT AND FOR WHAT? JESUS DAMNIT--!"

Eddie gazes at the ceiling, as if he'd find a sliver of patience up there. Then he decided, fuck it, he's leaving. But before his legs can lift himself up, he falls back down with a groan.

"Well don't fucking do that! I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do, Ed oh my god! I'll go get some gauzes and some elastic bandages... You stay there, apply pressure to the wound—"

"I'm not leaking out, it's just a graze."

"I'm not leaking out, it's just a graze-- shut it!" You mimped, before haphazardly shrugging your coat on to conceal your blood stained clothes underneath.

For what seemed like a second, you return with the said materials. Here you were, awake at 3 am on a weekday-- the Riddler topless in your living room, tending to his wounds... I guess it's just what friends do I mean, he's helped you with questionable things at 3 am and sure he whined, but at least he helped out.

He promised that his life of crime shall never ever involve you, but knowing him the only reason you wanted to be involved because of the shit he gets into. Especially at one of these nights, what if he never managed to reach you? What if he bled out and die?

"Done." You spoke the first word after the excruciating silence.

".... I'm so sorry."

"For what?" You looked up at him as you put some equipment away.

"For troubling you like this." He averts his gaze, his fingers softly picking on the firm wrapping around his abdomen.

"No, no... It's okay. I'm sorry for yelling at you." You pulled his hand away from fumbling with the bandages. It must've been subconscious when you held his hand within yours. "I'm... Just really scared for you."

The silence stretched across the room, as he didn't really know how to respond to that. Reassuring you with white lies would feel like slapping you across the face with betrayal and telling you the truth is... He thinks it won't end well.

He breaks the silence and diverted away from the topic.

"Bat."

"What?"

"The answer to the riddle earlier; Bat."

"Oh..." You didn't even remember him telling you a riddle, maybe you might not have heard it from the ensuing panic.

"So... Where do I sleep?"

He ended up sleeping in your bed, wrapped himself as a cocoon in your fluffy pink hello kitty blanket, wearing one of your oversized sweater and shorts while you stayed awake for the remainder of midnight cleaning the blood in the living room. You lied to Edward about sleeping on the sofa, but something within you knows that Edward knows that you won't be sleeping on the bloodstained thing. It's not like you'd be able to sleep with the image of the predicaments in mind, along with the shot of adrenaline from the utmost concern you had for Eddie.

He predictably slept in, finally getting out of bed at the afternoon. It may have been the best sleep he's ever had, maybe he should start doing that often. But then he felt uncomfortable. He doesn't quite know why.

"Y/N? N/N? Yoo-hoo~"

Edward began to call for your name, wandering around your apartment, unnerved by the silence. Taking leisure steps around your living space, he wanted to remain calm, denying the touch of anxiety wiring his brain to think of the worst.

God, what if Penguin wanted to get back at him? That they sent someone to follow him and kill you? Fuck, he shouldn't have went here, why didn't he think this through--

"Y/N!"

He rushed over you body that lay motionless in the bathroom, hot to the touch. He listened in your breathing, as you shook with shuddering breaths. His palm lands atop your forehead and without a doubt, you've somehow kept a fever.

~•~

The very first thing you felt upon finding the strength to open your eyes through the sting of a raging headache, was a palm smacking on your forehead.

"Fucking ow, the fuck is your problem?" You snap at the owner of the hand with a nasally voice, squinting at the man who you just saved from blood lost.

"Well, nurse, you could've done it softly at least."

"I'm just checking for your temperature manually."

He notes that though you were still hot, at least it wasn't as severe as when he found you. Edward nods to himself out of relief.

"Sorry, I might or might not have done that on purpose. And besides, it's just me being affectionate."

"I pity whomever decided to permanently saddle themself with y—"

The banter was cut short when Edward decided to flatten his whole palm across your face.

"If my rightful retaliation comes across as disrespect, you should actually see me being disrespectful. Well then," you settle under your cover, pulling your blanket over your head. "You can start by cleaning my tiles in the living room, caretaker."

"You were more bearable when you were asleep." He smirks when you grab his wrist and removed his hold from your face, its consequent removal revealed your narrowed gaze at him. "Well, at least I know your fever is bearable enough for you to disrespect your care taker."

He rolls his eyes and pulls the pink hello kitty blanket and tucked it just below your knees.

"It's cold!" You whine, attempting to lift the end of your blanket to toss over your head, when Edward stops you.

"You'll overheat. I know it's cold, but if you cover up it'll increase your temperature. And you don't want that."

Edward watches your bitter expression grow less bitter, with a begrudging acceptance you simoly cross your arms to your chest and stick your bottom lip up. He couldn't help but to laugh to see you like this, his hand reaching up to brush your hair out of your forehead. He turns away to wring a hand towel from a small basin of lukewarm water. Your eyes followed his hand as he place the damp towel on your forehead in earnest, his eyes slightly tinged with worry.

"Funny that you ask that, my taste buds are fucked at these times."

He leans away and sighs. "What do you wanna eat?"

Oh. Right.

Seeing his face contort with a wince made your stomach sink with guilt. God you should have been less harsh, he was just trying to help.

"Can I have some chai?"

"Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

You fumble with your shirt, your finger twirling a loose piece of thread. "No, I'm good."

"Good, I'll be ordering myself a pizza then." He cheekily smiles, flashing your wallet in his hand and before you can protest, he was skipping out of the room.

"Prick!" You yelled after him with your sore throat, just in time to reach him when he closed your door just in case you had to shoot projectiles at his trajectory. He was so fucking spry for a man with a bullet-grazed abdomen.

God what an asshole...

Through the pain of your pulsating headache amplified by the annoyance and betrayal of Edward, a small smile makes way through your features.

It's good to have him back, though.

[quandaryqueen]

Basically Jason Todd body:

You see? The chest? The arms and the little tummy so he can tense his belly to take punches and don't hurt too much?

Also Wonho and Henry Cavill are good references I guess but add a extra tummy and they'll be *chief kiss*

[quandaryqueen]

i appreciate the hc that jason no longer smokes because he died by smoke inhalation but have you considered he has never had a good coping mechanism ever and would have just added this onto his Fucked Up Shit To Do And Not Think About Too Deeply-post revival bingo card

[quandaryqueen]

Wait

Young Justice Edward Nygma X Hero Reader

You were the one in chains, but he wasn't the one in charge.

Suggestive Content. Choking, pinning.

If there's one thing about nature that will continue to persist no matter the species, is that you shall not lay a finger on a single strand of hair of babies without anticipating the wrath of their mother. The universal trait among mothers and mother figures alike, the unbridled scorn and unfound strength that will unearth in the process of this blinding rage, should not be underestimated.

Edward learned that the hard way.

For one, in his defense, he has no personal vendetta against these children, he was merely following orders— immobilize children, hold them hostage, force information out of them through any means necessary— as you do. It was not his area of expertise, but his employers were the same people who assigned him to fight against them, one of the aforementioned being a Kryptonian clone, a Marsian, Magical, the fucking Robin— but he digress— and so it was not a shock for him to be assigned to this task, to watch over them, that is, he wasn't the one doing the information obtaining aspect. The only way he fits in this mission was the fact that he watches over them through cameras and induce electric shock if needed, so it was just him sitting in front of a monitor and control panels.

Everything was under his control...

Until you escaped your own containment, overpowered your assigned guards, endured electric shocks from your collar, managed to tear the aforementioned collar off your neck, navigate your way through an unfamiliar territory all the while defeating obstacles through the form of guards and find yourself in Edward's den. You defeated the guards on your way here, would Edward even stand a chance, oh that's out of the question, of course you can. Physically, you still have some juice in your but intellectually? Your brain was fried from all the electric shock.

But he's gotta hand it to you, you gave him quite the fight but he soon gained the upper hand when he managed to outsmart you. And all he needed to do was to step away before you can swing at him. Oh this was fueling his ego real good— H/N? Under his heel? All flushed and breathing heavily? Under his mercy? Ohohoho this should be photographed, printed, framed and placed on his bedside table, clearly this was a crucial moment—

Before the sight of you panting on the ground further supply his ego, you pounced up, the man squealing in surprise when you had the shackles thrown and twisted around his neck. He falls on his back, the air knocked off his chest, while you situated yourself on his hips. You were at the position where you had the ability to simultaneously further the gap between your wrists, resulting for the chains to tighten around his next whilst you pin his arms on either sides of his head. He could feel your chest rapidly rising and falling, the heat of your breath hitting his face— how you're the first person got this fucking close to him.

He struggles in an attempt to free himself, but instead found a certain friction which jolted him of his senses. This results for his to continue 'struggling' from beneath you.

"Where are they?" Oh you weren't fucking around, you were ready to strangle a bitch if they don't spill. Further emphasizing your point, you tighten the chains around his neck, a choked noise originating from his throat.

"Basement..." He managed to choke out. "With special access..."

You knew he was considered important enough to be granted those special access cards. With your hands occupied, you used your knees to feel through his pants' pocket. Experimentally, you stretch your fingers out just enough to reach his breast pocket to save time, causing Edward to stiffen and supress a moan, by throwing his head back.

"Do you not have that card?" You glared at him, after not finding anything of importance from his person, did you only notice the pleasure he derives from this.

Oh this pathetic loser.

Out of curiosity, you rolled your hips ever so slightly and under your gaze, you saw how visibly his breath hitch from his chest.

"... No." He answers, voice coarse with the shackle still around his neck. This is why he was placed in guarding duty, clearly they don't see him as crucial enough to be granted a special access ID Card, much to his chagrin... But it felt nice for you to assume he looked significant enough. "C-confidential..."

Testing the waters once more, you ground harder, causing him to forget about blocking his voice out. Oh what a sad little thing. You watch as red completely flushes his complexion and he looks at you, as if confirming whether he moaned internally or that you didn't hear it at all. Tilting your head, you begin lean back, causing Edward to close his eyes and bite down on his lip, disregarding his little slip up. With that, he began to feel an obstruction from within his pants, in desperate need to be freed from the constraints.

"You're pathetic, you know that?" You hissed above him, feeling his hardening cock poke your thigh.

Edward can only acknowledge you with a whine, sounding as though it was a protest but with his current state, he was just proving your point. Brows furrowed, breathing through gritted teeth, face completely tinged red. But it could because of the chain wrapped around his neck, his flimsy joke of an excuse attempts to justify. But he knows that you know it wasn't from that.

He wasn't even fighting it anymore.

"You're not really useful to me," you spoke above him, the chain around his neck tightening from the pull of your cuffed wrists.

"Wait—!" Edward chokes. "I-I can be!" He watches you raise a doubtful brow. Fair enough. He wouldn't trust him either. "They're at the basement. Special access cards."

"I already know that—"

"032604." He blurted out. "Code..."

He didn't have those damn cards due to his rank, but his eyes had been keen on the codes they punched on those doors. There was nothing Edward didn't know, no one was going to keep information from him.

The pressure around his neck grew lax and finally, you were unraveling the chain from his neck. That was greatly appreciated, oxygen was crucial for the head. Unfortunately, little head swayed the big head that he couldn't help but to feel disappointed when you peeled yourself off him. So there he was, in a prone position, watching through bleary eyes as you bear an expression of consideration. The prominent hard-on he can finally hide with his hands to preserve the remnant of his dignity.

He would glare at you, but then he raised you were raising a makeshift weapon above your head, ready to strike.

"WAIT—!" Edward once again exclaims, holding his arms before his face in defense.

It did nothing to dissuade your intent of knocking him out. It was your personal protocol to tie up loose ends before he can notify his higher-ups you've managed to escape. You don't know whether he thought of it or not, but it was better safe than sorry.

#edward nygma #dc x reader #edward nigma #the riddler #riddler #young justice riddler x reader #young justice edward nygma x reader #young justice riddler #young justice edward nygma #suggestive

[quandaryqueen]

YN: When I said "Bring me back something from the beach" I meant, like, a seashell.

Jason, struggling to hold a seagull: Well, you didn't fucking say that.