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kitmon · 2 years

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What Happens Behind Closed Doors and Live Cameras | Edward Nashton (The Riddler) x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's not enough to fuck you in the isolated space of his apartment, Edward needs to let everyone know just how good he takes care of his precious baby.

Pairing: Edward Nashton aka The Riddler (The Batman, 2022) x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags: smut (18+ only), dom!edward, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), edging, dacryphilia, swearing (duh), BDSM elements (reader's wrists are bound and she's gagged for a good portion of the fic), praise kink, daddy kink (its only used once), kinda pet play?? there's no, like, collars or anything but he calls her 'puppy, pet, etc.,' spanking, fucking on a live stream (exhibitionism), dumbification, creampie, degradation (slut, whore, etc.), oral (m!receiving), throat fucking... I think that's it but if you catch anything, please please please let me know!

Author’s Note: I started writing this in June for a close friend's birthday but I'm fucking ass at finishing anything I start so it took me 3 months to finish this lmao! But you know what?! Better late than never so BE GRATEFUL! A fat fucking smooch and a huge thank you to @queenimmadolla for beta reading AND FUCKING KILLING IT! She left me over 250 comments and spent at least 3 hours editing this! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! So please please go send her some love, she absolutely deserves it. Happy reading, you filthy sluts <3

“Alright,” Edward mutters to himself as he fidgets with the dingy camcorder a bit more, always a stickler for the details. “And we are live.”

His voice is lilting as he presses the obvious red button upon the camera’s top, the red dot blinking in slow increments in the top corner of the LCD screen as an air of boyish excitement radiates off of him, evident in the joy laced in his voice. As he takes a step back, he rubs his covered hands in anticipation, addressing the pitiful number of viewers through the low-resolution lens of the camera he has propped over a second hand and, imbalanced tripod.

“Hi, guys,” he waves both of his hands, not able to hide the giddiness behind his movements. “I hope that you’re as excited as I am because I have,” he pauses, stepping back a few paces so his towering frame isn’t hoarding the entirety of the screen. As he does, the length of a drab mattress over a rickety metal bed frame comes into view, your naked and writhing body— dressed only in a mismatched pair of bra and panties— splayed over the pilling sheets revealing itself as well. “A little surprise.”

Your arms are bound by the wrists with what seems to be scrap cotton jersey from an old t-shirt, hands resting in curled fists over your rising and falling chest as you exhale harshly through your nose. The camera is expertly angled to keep your identity hidden, the details of your face limited to the slope of your nose and your occupied lips; separated by a gag of similar material to the tie around your wrists, effectively muffling your groans of desperation and neediness.

“As you can see, my lovely partner has offered herself up for your amusement, haven’t you, my darling?” he asks, the words leaving his lips with a condescending undertone that riles you up and has you arching your back against the mattress, bedsprings creaking beneath you. Edward takes the final few steps to the bed before sitting down at the edge of it, reaching his gloved hand towards your ankle, vinyl tracing up to your knee and back down. Having been deprived of his touch for so long, the minuscule contact has you dragging your thighs together and tossing your head back against the pillows, whimpering behind the gag like a neglected puppy in hopes that he would give in to your obvious needs.

He hums before giggling behind his mask, the sound muffled through the layers of cling wrap and cold weather plastic leather protectant.

“Looks like baby’s all hot and bothered because I won't touch her, is that right?”

“Mmhm,” you hum behind the gag, nodding your head fervently along.

His hand inches past your kneecap and up your thigh, moving closer to your aching core with a painful slowness. A wet spot had formed over the barely-there patch of fabric that clothes your cunt and you flaunt the sign of your wanting to him, curling your back against the bed and spreading your thighs, unabashed in your wanton behavior. Just as his fingertips reach the meatiest part of your thigh, only a breath away from where you silently beg him to extend his touch to, he squeezes the fat there, your skin dimpling with the force before he releases his hold on you and stands from the bed, the springs groaning with the loss of his weight and leaving you whimpering with the loss of his touch.

He steps towards the nightstand where a laptop rests, displaying a live chat. Edward reaches for the trackpad and scrolls through the few responses that have filtered in. From where you lay on the mattress, with a bit of straining, you can see the laptop’s screen and the responses on the right-hand side of it along with the live captured video of you, sprawled out along the bed, delayed only by mere seconds. From what you can see, the chat is showing an influx of interaction with waves of messages ebbing and flowing, coming to a slow stop before rushing all over again. The engagement seems to be high today, Edward often only receiving a couple dozen viewers— give or take a stream— whereas today, the chat is lively and from the view counter in the corner of the screen, you can see that nearly a hundred people have joined to watch him ruin you for their viewing pleasure.

You catch glimpses of obscene queries and remarks of adulation flickering before rippling across the screen, carried away by the next wave of comments.

Who’s the slut spread out on the bed?

I wanna see her face

I’m getting hard just watching her squirm

“Let’s see what the chat has in store for you, pet,” Edward says, interrupting your scanning of the chat and drawing your attention to his hunched-over form, still fiddling with all of the technological controls over on his end of things, clicking on this window and exiting out of that tab before he says: “What should I do to her first? The power is in the hands of the people.”

With the prompt left out in the open, responses begin cropping up within the chat, each viewer tossing their suggestion into the hat.

Undress her

Show us her tits

Show us that whore’s pussy

As Edward combs through each suggestion and mulls each one over, he hums to himself, “Hmm, seems as though the majority have a deep fascination with what you look like underneath all those clothes.” He trails off before coming to a consensus, “I suppose I can indulge them.”

He moves away from the laptop and stalks over towards you, slim shoulders hovering above you before he throws one leg over your hips and holds the other in a standing position at the side of the bed, crawling over you.

He brings his gaze down to your glistening eyes, your stare clouded with ardor, pupils dilated and shadowed over by your drooping eyelids. The look that you send him from below has his intense demeanor faltering for a moment, the man wanting nothing more than to envelop you in a tight embrace and have your soft voice coo gentle hymns of affirmation into his hair, neck and chest.

The thought is fleeting as he reacquaints himself with the situation; the game that you’re playing at but he yields to your longing and bewitching stare with just a single gesture. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, the vinyl that covers his thumb swiping over the apple of it one, two times, trailing the glove’s powdery coating over its path. His hand falls from your face, his fingers tracing the tendons of your neck, slipping past the dip of your clavicle and along the slope of your left breast. Once it reaches the underside of the bra cup, he pushes up and gropes you through the thin material. His other hand joins and soon he’s toying with both of your breasts, squeezing them and pressing them together, accentuating your cleavage before he brings his face down between them.

Edward’s mask is cool against your skin and the force of his deep inhale tickles you as he takes in your sweet scent through the brief slit of his mask. He exhales a deep sigh through his mouth before he’s reaching his hands towards the middle of the garment where a thin strip of fabric holds the two cups together. He pinches at the opposite ends of it, taking the top of each cup into his hands before ripping it apart, the sound of seams snapping encouraging you to gasp.

He isn’t very strong, not at all actually. His strength lies within his intellectual prowess but in these moments, where you are bound, helpless and at his gracious mercy, he can impress you with the slightest of aggressions. These are the moments that he finds himself to be the most powerful, the most domineering and intimidating. You worship him like this and at his weakest. He worships you just the same.

“There we go,” he mutters to himself as he admires you; your breasts on full display, nipples perked and ripe.

Your flushed chest climbs and falls in time with your heavy breathing, each rise becoming more frequent with your excitement. He lifts a hand to cup one of your lush mounds, the warmth of your skin penetrating past the elastic material of his gloves and seeping right into his skin. His thumb swipes over the apex of it, pressing against your nipple and watching with fascination as it nearly flattens into your skin before climbing to a stiff erection once more.

While Edward plays with you and watches your pliable skin mold to his fingers and palms, he wants nothing more than to latch his lips onto one of your tits and suckle your plump skin into his mouth, nibbling on the warm flesh as he watches you writhe beneath his doting lovebites.

He restrains himself though, settling for the warm weight of your breasts in his hands as he lets his imagination run wild with thoughts of what he’ll do to you the moment the cameras are turned off.

“Come here, my faithful viewers!” He cheers, his demeanor shifting seamlessly from his sultry obsession with you to his cheery and excited stream host persona. He stands from the bed, springs creaking once more with the loss of his weight as he steps towards the tripod. He detaches the camera from the stand and carries it back to you, angling it to take in the length of your helpless position; thighs rubbing together like that of a grasshopper, creating a silent sort of symphony within you that is meager in comparison to what you really yearn for. Edward’s conscious and careful to not let the lens capture anything above your cupid’s bow, tending to focus his film on your supple breasts, thighs and the erotic picture of you bound and gagged.

With your attention focused on Edward and his daunting position above you, you miss the flow of chat messages but with the way that Edward groans— the sound slipping into a giddy chuckle— you can only assume that the slim bar on the screen was painted with comments that would have your skin crawling, for better or worse.

Edward tsks at them, “Naughty, naughty, are we?”

He directs his voice to you as he informs you, “Darling, I’ll have you know that the masses are deeply creative when it comes to methods of divulging your pleasure, or alternatively, prolonging it.”

A weak sound slips past the gag crammed in your mouth and your lower body tenses, back arching over the mattress and inviting him to run his hands over you. He waddles his knees closer to you and leans over your squeezed legs, your thighs fighting to hide the embarrassingly obvious damp spot that highlights the core of your panties.

“Open up for me now,” he mutters, coaxing you to part your legs as he pries his fingers between the plush flesh of your thighs. They part with little defiance from your muscles. You squeeze your eyes shut and wrinkle your nose in frustration, pressing the side of your face into the pillow as your body yearns for his touch.

“Oh, don’t worry, puppy,” he coos, his eyes fixated on your covered center. “Be good for me and I’ll satiate your every desire.”

His hand inches up your thigh, palm soothing your heated skin as it climbs higher with each pass before his fingers finally press against your clothed cunt. Your whine climbs in pitch, choking around a gasp at the sudden pressure; he’s rubbing blindly, his index and middle finger running up the length of your panty-clad slit, feeling the warmth of your pulsing core and juices seep past the cotton of your underwear against the latex of his gloves.

“Mmm, so wet for me and I’ve hardly begun to touch you,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else present as his disbelief nearly overwhelms him.

Nearly.

His fingers continue their assault, dipping low and rubbing over the wet patch covering your hole before dragging them upwards to massage slow but firm circles against your clit. A wail escapes you, muffled by the gag and you toss your head back against the pillow, the tendons in your neck straining and bulging against the thin layer of your sheen-covered skin.

“Does my dirty baby like it when I tie her up and shut her filthy mouth? Is that what it is?” He taunts above you, the condescending pout you’re sure is on his lips coming through so clearly. “Look at this pitiful little thing; crying and humping her desperate cunt against my fingers like a little bitch in heat.”

You can't even be bothered by his degradation and bullying, the barely-there pleasure feeling like a searing brand against you as your head lulls from hanging back to falling against your shoulder. You were helpless to do anything but watch him continue his slow, torturous ministrations against your most sensitive crevice.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He croons, pushing the frilly hem of your panties to the side to expose your puffy pussy, glistening with your arousal in the low light of the room and clenching on nothing, eager to be filled as it's exposed to the cool air offered by the dingy and scraping fan twirling away in the corner.

“You love my fingers, don't you?” He goads while pushing his middle and ring finger past your entrance, pumping them in and out of you languidly.

With your speech inhibited, you can only provide him a zealous nod as you mewl at the intrusion behind your gag.

He gives a low chuckle, eyes honed on his fingers pulling out of your precious cunt, soaked to the knuckle, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

His thumb rubs over your exposed clit in tandem with his probing thrusts, fingers curling to knead against that perfect spot inside of you. Your hips begin to move against his hold as you dig your fingernails into your palms and he tuts at your insubordination, reaching to prop the camcorder atop the nightstand so he can free his other hand and press it against your hip, pinning you to the mattress to keep you steady.

“Easy, baby. Told you I’d take good care of you,” he reminds you. “I’ll let you finish if you sit pretty for me.”

At his promise, you attempt to overcome your desires and keep your hips from jolting up, opting, instead, to curl and uncurl your dainty painted toes as a means of expending your energy.

He’s pulling his fingers in and out faster, fucking into your cunt at a wild speed. The subtle texture of his gloves rubbing along your walls has a warmth blooming in your stomach as the filthy noises of the latex straining and slapping wetly against you sets you alight. Your head falls back against the pillow as your eyes roll into your skull from the pressure of your impending orgasm.

Edward releases your hip and drags his free hand over the underside of your thigh, hooking into the bend of your knee to push your leg up and press it closer to your stomach to spread you wide, allowing his fingers to sink just a little bit deeper inside. His thumb continues flicking across your sensitive nub at a delectable speed and you moan a sweet sound behind the spit-soaked gag, your eyes watering as he works his fingers into that spongy patch inside you. Just as you're nearing your end, the heat in your belly building and rolling into a white explosion, he pulls his fingers out of you. The warmth dissipates and you cry out a sob, tears that had built with intense pleasure in mind falling from frustration instead as you screw your eyes tight and chew on the fabric of the gag, teeth gritted in contempt as he just chuckles above you at your misfortune.

With the tips of his fingers, he pulls your arousal from your hot, pulsing hole and spreads it across the folds of your weeping pussy, wet latex trailing up and down the expanse of your throbbing cunt. The heel of his palm just barely grazes your clit in passing as he does so, urging your body to jolt with each noncommittal touch and it only serves in frustrating you further.

“You got something to say, puppy?” He snickers and as you stare up at the static green farce, you can make out his eyes crinkling in a beady squint behind the cling wrap, a smile blooming behind his mask. You muster your best distraught look, all of which is genuine: chest heaving with the labor of bubbling tears, brows cinching, and glassy eyes downturned as you nod your head.

He brings his dry hand up to your face, trailing his fingers gingerly over the drying tear tracks that paint your heated skin before they run along the homemade gag in your mouth as he asks, “What do you think, chat? Should we let the pretty lady speak?”

It comes out distracted and hushed but the seedy microphone of the camcorder picks it up anyway. The answer is made obvious by the sudden surge of comments emerging from the low corner of the laptop’s monitor to the very top before disappearing, lost between a dozen other responses. As his eyes peek at the screen from his periphery, he’s left amused at their enthusiasm.

“You’re in luck, pet,” he cooes down at you. “Looks like they want to hear those pretty little cries of yours.”

He lifts the still-slick fingers of his other hand to your chin, drawing them up at a slow jagged pace until he reaches the frayed and curling edge of the fabric lodged between your teeth. He hooks his fingers into the cloth and pulls it out of your mouth so it can fall, damp and limp across your throat.

Your lips are flushed and swollen, glowing with a mixture of your saliva and your own arousal having traveled from the tips of Edward’s fingers to paint your cupid’s bow and chin. You whine as his touch leaves you again, just as quick as it came.

“Please, baby,” your voice croaks, hoarse from lack of use. “Wanna cum so bad. I‘ll do anything, just please let me cum.”

“Okay, puppy,” he caves to your begging and your body slumps as a weak smile plays across your lips. “But first, you have to suck my cock.”

A sick shimmer blooms within your irises, eyes glistening with lust at his terse command. Though your cunt throbs and leaks between your legs, teary with neglect, the thought of having Edward’s thick cock prodding at the gummy flesh of your throat, choking you with the girth of him— it was much too good to pass up, not that he would have let you have a say, anyhow.

His hands travel up his thighs as he leans back to sit on his calves, head angled down to monitor his movements as deft fingers glacially begin popping the button of his trousers open, the sound of his zipper loud with each plastic tooth of it he passes during its climb down. You strain your neck to watch his every move. You can see the outline of his dick, the prominent bulge stressing the blue tartan fabric of his boxers.

After lowering his pants, he pushes his thumbs past the waistband of his underwear and pulls the tattered fabric down, revealing the pale brown smattering of hair above his pubic bone that trails down and fleshes out into a bushy tuft. The golden brown netherhair crowns the base of his cock and paves the way for his pink, throbbing shaft and blushing head to spring free, bobbing against his stomach. At the substantial sight of it, all pretty and ready for your mouth, a whimper simpers past your lips, your hips involuntarily jolting against the bed.

“It's okay, puppy, don’t you worry,” he reassures you with a breathless sigh, stroking his cock in lazy pumps. His eyes gaze over your body with a predatory gleam. “Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”

He crawls over your crumpled figure, with as much grace as he can muster while holding his dick in one hand, sitting in a hover over your chest. His knees are planted parallel to your shoulders, his cock at eye level and you find your lips parting, almost on instinct, as an invitation for him to smother you with his length. With him so close, your eyes can only focus on the ruddy, leaking tip of him, disappearing within the snug wrap of foreskin before peeking out again with each thrust of Edward’s hips into his fist. Pre-cum oozes past his slit, the near-pearlescent liquid beginning to dribble down the underside of him at the change in angle.

His strong hand reaches for your face, fingers digging into the pillowy flesh of your cheeks to steal your attention away from his delicious offering and onto his piercing eyes. Your lips are forced into a dopey pucker and your eyes begin to glimmer with childish tears, the water blooming from your unspoken need and neglect though the rest of your features remain passive, obedient.

“You want this cock, sweetheart?” He teases, grabbing his dick from the base and tapping the sticky, shiny head against your bottom lip. Your tongue darts out to collect the salty residue he leaves behind, savoring the distinct tang.

You nod your head as best as you can with his hold, still unyielding. You can hear a giggle pass his lips before he speaks.

“Show me how much you want it, baby”

He releases your face with a shove and cants his hips forward so the head of his dick prods at your mouth. You reach your bound hands forward and have your palms travel over his stomach, pushing his hoodie and jacket up to reveal his pudgy, white belly. In quick succession, he seizes your conjoined wrists and presses them further up the bed with a heavy and hard grip so your arms extend over your head, your breath catching in your throat as he does so. Edward leans down so his face is mere centimeters away from yours, his piercing and near-frightening green eyes glare at you through the fogged plastic of his cling wrap and behind the crystalline lenses of his glasses.

With a gruff and mean voice he commands, “Suck.”

You’re quick to comply as soon as he straightens himself, giving the head of his cock a baiting kitten lick before your jaw creaks open, allowing you to finally wrap your lips around him. You push your head forward and swallow as much of him as you can with the awkward setup, craning forward and tilting your head to try and stuff him down your greedy throat. He groans and tosses his head back as you struggle to take the length of him, tongue swirling and tracing the veins that wind up his shaft.

With one hand still occupied with your wrists, Edward uses the other to fist the hair at the nape of your neck and force you further down his cock, your nose grazing the coarse hair decorating his pubic bone with each of his vigorous thrusts. The tip of his dick is testing the spongy tissue at the back of your throat, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes as your gag reflex strains to remain idle.

He yanks at your hair, pulling you off after a particularly rough suck with a shudder and a groan as he grips the very base of his cock and squeezes there, almost as if he’s trying to keep himself from cumming too soon.

“Gonna fucking come with your whore’s mouth working me like that,” he pants. “But I’d much rather watch it seep out of your puffy, spent hole.”

His words are wispy like he could hardly believe it himself, “Gonna ruin this pussy, mark you from the inside so you always know who you belong to, so they know you belong to.”

You love the possessive slur of his words, finding it amusing that, despite this whole ordeal being his idea, he can't stand the idea of anyone even thinking of burying themselves in what's his. His filthy words spur your aching core on further, a rush of slick trickling past your folds as you clench around nothing. You push your hips up against his ass and whimper, lip trembling, tired of his cruel game. A tear trails across the apple of your cheek, overlapping the sheened tracks of the ones that fell before it.

“You want that, right, baby?” He asks, lifting his hand to wipe the evidence of your impatience away. “Hm? Want me stuffing you so full you’ll feel it in the morning?”

“Yes,” you breathe with choked desperation.

“That’s what I thought,” he patronizes, shoving his tear-basted thumb past the seam of your lips to let the savory flavor settle over your tongue. “C’mere.”

He takes you by the shoulders and flips you over onto your stomach, trapping your arms between your body and the mattress. Your cheek presses into the musty piece of furniture, lips pursing with the pressure on your face. Edward grabs your hips and hikes them up into the air, forcing your back to arch as he situates you on your knees.

You maneuver your head to try and get a decent glance over your shoulder at what he’s doing, humming to himself as he takes his sweet time perusing your body. In the low light, he admires you, running his hands over the round globes of your ass, squeezing every once in a while as they drop and then drag back up. He dips his head lower to catch a glimpse of your glittering hole, soaked with your lust and pulsing with just the thought of him filling you up.

“Would you look at that?” He whispers in the tense air.

Edward reaches over to the nightstand, scooping up the camcorder so he can invite the chat to enjoy a look at you.

“Isn’t she just perfect?” He remarks wistfully as he glides a thumb through your lips. “All throbbing and aching for me. Just a hole waiting to be used.”

You huff and wiggle your hips, pushing back to try and find even an ounce of relief. At your jittery signs, Edward sinks his thumb past your lax wet muscle and your breath catches in your throat with the familiar sensation.

“Please, baby, want you so bad.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he clicks his tongue. “Only patient girls get rewarded,”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll be good,” you pant out. “I’ll be patient, I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.” He draws his hand from the small of your back up between your shoulder blades, repeating the motion once, twice before pressing his hand into the side of your head and pressing it deep into the bed, nearly suffocating you. “I know you will, baby.”

He places the camera back on the nightstand, letting it clatter down before gripping the base of his cock and moving it to run the head through your slick folds, coating it in your creamy release. You mewl but try to keep still, burying your face into the mattress to muffle your disobedient noises. He takes note of your compliance and, to reward you, pushes past your entrance slowly, more so to get his dick wet before cumming rather than to be mindful of the ache that burns between your legs. A pitched gasp escapes your throat at finally having your request satisfied and your eyes flutter shut with the stretch of him against your walls.

“My God, this cunt was made for me,” he sighs, sinking deeper. “So wet and warm and fucking tight.”

With his cock sheathed to the very base, he stills before drawing his hips back and pulling nearly all the way out before slamming them forward in a violent rut, his dick reaching the far recesses within you and causing you to jolt forward on the bed.

“Gonna ruin this pussy, make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

He picks up his pace, his movements quick but his thrusts holding their same fervor. He’s hitting hard and fast and deep and all thoughts escape your mind as he abuses your hole. The squelching and slapping of skin on skin fills the room and reverberates off of the walls, his deep groans and grunts melding with your desperate moans and mewls into a hot soup of unabashed wantonness.

Suddenly, the hot crack of Edward’s palm against your ass rings within your ears before you actually feel it and as the sting begins to fester with a burn as you cry out, the pained sound dissolving into a moan.

“You like that, you little slut? You like when I hit you, punish you for being so dirty?”

You nod your head, cheek burning from the chafing friction of the sheets but your nonverbal response is cut short as he smacks you again, much harder than the first time.

“Words,” he demands.

“Yes!” You yelp. “Love it when you put me in my place!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he chuckles, though there's no humor behind it. “Take this fucking cock, fuck it like the filthy whore you are.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you’re gasping out in between tormenting thrusts, so close to finishing but before you can reach the blinding light at the end of the tunnel he’s pulling out and you want to cry, your tear ducts stinging with the loss as a shameful whine passes your lips, almost like a sob.

“It’s okay, baby,” he soothes. “Just wanna see your tits while I fuck you.”

He flips your pliable body over once more so you’re lying on your back, head lolling, your brain dazed and vacant.

He guides his cock, the head brushing against your glistening clit. Despite having just been inside of you, the touch shocks you, thighs tightening before he delves back in, his technique now far more brutal than before, if even possible. Your bound wrists lay between the valley of your breasts, the mounds bouncing along your chest with the force of each of his savage, pistoning thrusts.

He grips your legs by the thighs and glides his hands up to the crooks of your knees, leaning forward to press your quads up against your stomach, folding you to breed a pleasurable stretch. With your legs spread out of the way and him relentlessly pounding into you, he’s reaching an untapped patch of nerves within you, the head of his cock tapping deeper and harder with each pull and push of his hips. You cry out at how incredible it feels, each thrust sending you closer to the edge and setting fireworks off behind your retinas. The pleasure feels too good to contain, you shut your eyes and indulge in his vicious pace, relishing in the rock of your body in tandem with his.

Before you can get too caught up in feeling yourself, his hand finds your jaw, wrenching your face forward. The latex of his gloves squeaks as he tightens his hold and digs his fingers into the plush flesh of your cheeks.

He growls out a ‘look at me’ and you force your eyes to lazily flutter open, labored breaths puffing out past your pursed lips.

With your attention on him, he leans in and berates you, “Look at you, all spread out like a desperate little whore, all for me.”

You whine and writhe as he continues his bullying.

“That’s right, hmm? Just a dumb fucking slut that loves my cock?”

As he says this, he shoves his hips forward and causes your breath to stutter. His cock feels like it's clogging your throat with how deep it reaches and you do your best to answer his question, nodding your head against his resolute grip.

“Say it,” he pushes, gritting through his mask and teeth. “Tell them how much you love how I fuck you.”

You keen as his pace refuses to wither, your brain malfunctioning at just the prospect of answering his simple question. His hand readjusts and lowers so that it’s near to entrapping itself around your throat.

“C’mon, baby, tell them how much you love being used,” he chides, impatient. “We don’t have all day.”

With a particularly rough thrust of Edward’s hips and the euphoric feeling brought on by his hand constricting your airway, the tears that once gathered along your waterline fall over your cheeks as you cry out in a gasped sob.

“Mmm! Yes! I lo-ove it!” You hiccup. “I love how you use me! Love how you show me off!”

He laughs, and drags his hand down from your neck to grope your breast with an ungentle grip, squeezing one more time before lifting his hand to cradle your cheek, thumb pushing your tears away only to smear the wetness across your temple.

“I know, puppy,” he stutters out, very obviously near his end. “You’ve been so good for me and the viewers, I think she deserves a reward, don’t you agree?”

The chat floods with responses of consensus, each anonymous hermit behind a computer screen or otherwise hoping to indulge in the sight of you unraveling beneath who they knew to be their leader, their God.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby, go ahead and cum for me, wanna feel you choke my cock.”

You do as you're told, the pressure building up to a rolling boil as your body seizes and stutters with the feel of him inside you drawing you to your blinding end, crying out to the four walls as your back curls off of the bed. As your pussy throbs and convulses in spasms around Edward’s cock, he groans thickly and keels over you, catching himself on his hand as his hips stammer and start to become erratic. He releases a whiny, pitched moan when you feel his hot load spurt into you, the warmth of it heating you from the inside out as you sigh into the mattress.

You’re both panting like wild dogs caught in a heat wave, attempting to regain your lost breath. He slumps over you, the heat of his exhales clouding the saran wrap behind his glasses and mask. After a moment of calm, he leans back and pulls his softening dick out, his release crawling out of your hole and dripping onto the wrinkled and bunched up sheets. He grabs the camera and angles it to display your still convulsing hole.

“Isn’t that a sight?” he wonders aloud, muttering beneath his shallow breath.

He tuts and pushes two fingers into your cunt, gathering what spills over your asshole so he can push it back in. The breach causes you to shiver with overstimulation before relaxing back against the pillows. He takes his cum-laden fingers and reaches them towards your open mouth, bringing the camera along so it only shows your lips and chin.

“Suck,” he commands.

You lean up and take his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his digits and moaning against the bitter taste of your combined juices.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises as he pulls his fingers away.

You fall back against the few pillows beneath you, your eyelids starting to grow heavy as your head lulls against the cushions. Edward turns the camera towards him, holding the lens much too close to his face as he thanks the audience and ends the live, placing the camcorder back on the nightstand and shutting the laptop with a gentle click.

He begins undoing his getup; putting his glasses aside, pulling the mask over his head, and tossing it to the floor before unfurling the near-suffocating wrap from his head. With his features uninhibited, he places his glasses back on and starts consciously climbing over your body.

“You did so good for me,” he whispers against the skin of your neck, nuzzling his face there before slithering his arms under your back and squishing you against him. “I’m sure everyone loved you.”

You giggle at his needy, cat-like affections, “Baby, I wanna touch you.”

“Oh, right! Let me get that for you.”

He unties the jersey cloth from your wrists and tosses the scrap piece of fabric across the room. Edward runs his thumbs back and forth over the tender indentation that runs along your wrists, soothing the skin with his warm touch and the sympathetic press of his lips. Once he’s finished, you wind your arms around his neck and reach to thread your fingers into his russet locks, scratching close to the nape and behind his ears. He smiles that goofy grin down at you and despite the effort it takes, you lean up to kiss him.

“God, I miss doing that when you wear your mask,” you sigh as you separate, uncurling his strands from your fingers to rest your hand against his cheek.

“Me too,” he assures you, turning to kiss the wrinkled palm of your hand. “But we can’t have the GPD finding us out can we?”

“Nope,” you say with a disconcerting smile. “But it’s a good thing that when the cameras are off, I get you all to myself.”

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spookbusters · 2 years

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Spit Me Out (18+)

Summary: Edward thinks of something while in the shower with you.

// Pairing: Edward Nashton x F!Reader

// Word Count: 1.9k

// Warnings: Not beta-d! Porn w/o plot, brief showering together, handjob/thighjob, oral (m!receiving), face/throatfucking, brief mention of mirrors, f!masturbation, brief dirty talk, cumplay (spitting/eating), finger sucking, implied switch!reader+eddie.

// A/N: Yay, a longer one! Thank you everyone for so much love on my first Eddie fic!! I’m super excited to be adding a few other Paul Dano characters to my writing list!! <3

// As per the warnings, note that this work is intended for those who are of age in their respective countries! MINORS DNI!!!

_____________________________<3______________________________

He didn't mean to think of it that way. Frankly, he wasn't even entirely sure where it came from. All he knew was that now he was getting lost in his thoughts of you...

"Edward, is everything ok?"

Eddie panics a bit when he realizes you had been talking to him. "Wha-, " he starts, noting the concern on your face, "I'm-... It's ok, honey. What'd you say?" "Can you pass me my body wash, please?" He nods, fishing for the bright pink bottle in the shower caddy. "Thank you."

For a moment, while you're occupied with lathering the fruity-scented wash all over your damp skin, he allows himself to revisit the mental image he had just been so enthralled by. You had been washing your hair, standing under the water to rinse out the conditioner that made your hair silken and soft- something he loves. Water had gotten in your mouth when you opened it to say something to him, and Edward had watched as you spit the water out.

Again, he had no idea where it came from, but immediately his imagination was flooded with images of you on your knees, tears running tracks down the outer edges of your eyes, as you spit his cum from your mouth. It's like a stain on his mind. No matter how hard he tries to push the thought away, unwilling to defile the gentle intimacy of being here with you, that image of you burns a hole through him and he can't stop the thought's physical effects on him.

Blood rushes to his cock, and he immediately moves to see himself out of the shower, despite your protests and the unrinsed soap bubbles sliding down his chest. "Eddie, baby, what's wrong?" You're rushing to rinse off and hop out, fishing for your towel on one of the hooks. He doesn't have enough time to both wipe off the leftover soap and get the towel around his waist, so you get an eyeful of him, long and thick and solid before he has a chance to hide.

Edward blushes, the tips of his ears turning a burning crimson, "l didn't want to bother you with... this," your heart thuds at how shy he sounds before he rushes, "l know you had a long day at work; I know you just wanted to relax tonight, I'm sorry." You smile, genuine and warm, and Eddie's knees buckle ever so slightly when he sees it. "Is this what was the matter," you coo, "Just a little embarrassed?" Your voice is gentle, teasing, and tinged with faux innocence.

It makes him throb.

"l told you, l didn't want to bother you," he replied. Watching the water droplets roll over your curves as you step towards him is hypnotic. Before he can blink, you're in front of him, wet fingertips sliding down his stomach to rest on his hips. "You could never," you assert, voice warm with growing arousal, "l love taking care of you." He hardly realizes you're backing him up until his back meets the cool wall; the shiver that courses through his body is a shockwave.

The noise Edward makes when the soft skin of your palm meets his head is delicious. Somewhere between a whine and a sigh, it makes the blood burn in your veins. "Now, sweetheart, what was it that got you so worked up, hm?" Your fingers dance along his heated skin, spreading Eddie's rapidly leaking precum and making him twitch in your hand. "Thinking about you," he replies, eyes fluttering shut at your touch, "But 's- ngh... st-stupid."

When his gaze meets yours again, your eyes are big and soft, "Why would it be stupid, Eddie?" The way your palm is now skirting against his shaft is causing his brain to lag and he's slow to respond. He's overwhelmed by you in the best way. "You spit out water," he pants softly. The two of you are so close you can feel every rise and fall of his chest, "Made me think of you spitting out my-..."

Edward doesn't get the chance to finish; you decide at that point to start stroking him in earnest. The increase in pace and pressure, the way your fist tightens around him, is incredible. "Eddie, why would you ever think that's stupid, honey," you chastise softly, "That's so hot."

He doesn't hesitate in pressing his lips against yours, breathing in the scent of your fresh body wash, and peeking his tongue out to run against the seam of your kiss. His hands, which had previously been stuck at his sides, have maneuvered their way around your body to grip at whatever flesh they could manage.

You open up for him readily, wantingly, and he all but devours you. It's your turn to whimper when he starts biting at your lips, and you feel as though the remaining water skimming your skin may boil into steam.

"Wanna feel you," is all you can manage before you're placing him, hot and slick, between your thighs. He moves before you get the chance to, rocking his hips against you, and his solid weight against your clit makes you dizzy. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, raw and sensitive from the intensity of this spur-of-the-moment tryst.

Meanwhile, Edward is having what he earnestly believes might be an out-of-body experience. For a moment, he genuinely thinks he might be watching this from the perspective of a third party before he understands he's just looking at your shared reflection in the bathroom mirror. He sees himself, teeth gritted and hair damp while he takes all that you offer. He sees you, arms around his shoulders and his hands on your waist. You’re hanging on for dear life as he takes you apart from the outside.

Your release hits you like a freight train before you even have half a moment to recognize its approach. Eddie doesn't have enough time to tell you he's close, too, and perfectly content to spill himself all over your folds before he recognizes how your muscles tremble beneath the plushness of your lower tummy.

Wet. All you can register is that what you're feeling is wet, pulsing, and debilitating, and he's fucking you through it.

When you come down from the high, your legs feel like they're made of jelly, which is convenient because you're falling to your knees posthaste to take his sensitive cock into your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, and the eroticism of that fact is in no way lost on you.

A curse is spat from Eddie's wonderfully plump lips at the feel of your tongue. It's all he can do but keep himself from downright shoving himself down your throat at the first available opportunity. But Edward intentionally stops himself, waiting to feel you relax around him to take him deeper. He was so close, so close.

From below, you're watching his every move. His eyes are screwed shut, the hands once desperate for purchase on your ass now flexing as they knot themselves in your hair. When he finally opens his eyes, the sight of you almost does him in completely. Your eyes are half glazed over, your perfect lips working to accommodate his girth. God, you're beautiful.

Still, you can see the hesitancy in his body language and decide enough's enough. Your hands start at his calves, and a shudder wracks his body as they travel, feather-light, up to his thighs. Slowly, as though you're trying not to frighten him, you press your fingers into his skin and pull him towards you.

With this unspoken permission, he's pushing his hips into your face. You watch below him with hooded eyes as he loses himself almost completely. The fingers in your hair tighten ever so slightly, guiding your head back and forth against the length of him. A groan rumbles deep in his chest as he uses your mouth. The sound sends lightning down your spine, and the need briefly sated by your prior orgasm returns threefold.

One hand remains on his thigh, content to feel the thick muscle flex with every long stroke into you, the other snakes between your legs where your slit aches for more touch. The pads of your fingers drag through your folds and you sigh, mouth full, at the contact. Edward watches with intense eyes, and you're so content in your own little world, that you barely hear him speak.

"You want another?"

He watches you nod as best you can, and he's perfectly content to continue engaging in this exercise in mutualism until you both get what you want. He shoves himself further down your throat and your head is spinning as you split your focus between breathing properly and building the searing climax you feel on the horizon.

"You look so good like this," his breathing is uneven, and your hand speeds up to try to meet up with where you know his body is at, "Look so good, getting off to taking my cock." His words are powerful, and you whimper at them. Eddie marvels over you, brows drawn together over pleasure-drunk eyes, fingers making a wet sound with every plunge into your cunt. He feels it stronger than ever, boiling inside him. So close. "Want you to cum for me, can you do that?" Your only response is a wanton moan. "Please," he chokes, "Let me see it."

And you do. Your walls flex around your fingers and the sight of you, twitching and choking, finally becomes too much for Edward to bear.

When he finally falls over the edge, it's an all-encompassing, full-body experience. It sends a shiver through his body that makes his legs tremble, and makes the sandy hair on his arms and at the base of his neck stand on end. He pulls his dick from between your lips, and you almost ogle at the sight of it still hard.

Edward falls to his knees to be closer to you, wedging himself between your body and the bathroom wall. "Spi-... spit it out," he murmurs, watching you with intense eyes, and you comply instantly.

The familiar taste of his cum is bitter, but oh-so Eddie on your tongue. Your lips purse a bit as you spit. It's a little sloppy, but that's on purpose; you're making a show of it for his benefit. The pale fluid shines on your lips like a gloss, dripping and dribbling from your mouth to your chin to drip on the tops of your breasts.

You're a work of art to him: tear tracks stain your cheeks with the memory of his head hitting the back of your throat, your hair is tangled from his frantic fingers, and his cum paints the lower half of your face.

It's everything he's ever imagined it to be and so much more.

"Edward," you call, and it makes him realize he was staring at you in stupefied silence. A wicked grin spreads on your features. "We made a mess of me, baby," you purr, and Edward's eyes widen as he starts to look anywhere but at you, taking on a sudden shyness about what's transpired. "I'm sorry, honey," he says, voice soft.

You extend a hand to gingerly grab his wrist, guiding his fingers first to wipe his release from your chin and then shove those same fingers into your mouth. His jaw drops, and you can see his length twitch in your peripheral vision. When you've sucked his fingers to your satisfaction, you release his wrist so they can fall from between your lips.

"That's alright, sweetheart," you soothe, voice gentle. He knows that tone always means a mouthwatering danger is lurking beneath your surface.

"You can help me clean up."

#edward nashton smut #edward nashton x reader #Edward Nashton x you #the riddler smut #the riddler x reader #the riddler x you #paul dano x reader #dano!riddler x you #dano!riddler smut #dano!riddler x reader #riddler smut #riddler x reader #riddler x y/n #riddler x you

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girl-its-envy · 9 months

Text

is there a nsfw discord riddler fic where y/n is a discord kitten or am i gonna have to get to work?

#riddler x reader #Joking #unless..?#dc x reader #dc oneshot #riddler x y/n #the batman 2022 #sub edward nashton #paul dano riddler #paul dano #batman #the batman #edward nashton #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton smut

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2-guns-b1tch · 10 months

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Talk To Me

Arkham! Riddler × FemaleReader

🔞Minors DNI!!!

This is my first fanfiction about Riddler and I am very excited to be writing about him because I am obsessing about everything relating to Batman! Some dialogues will be based on Arkham Asylum and Arkham Knight tapes. Thank you for reading and enjoy!

Masterlist

CHAPTER 1/ A03

The ticking of the clock is the only sound that fills the room. You keep your eyes fixed on the pointer, anxiety consuming you inside. At any moment your patient would arrive. At any moment, Edward Nygma, better known as the Riddler, would be brought into his therapy session with you.

You can't help but blink with the brightness of the ceiling lights. No windows at sight, just four concrete walls around you. Everything was too cold and artificial, too distant from coziness. The therapy room felt more like an interrogation room. It was clear why no patient would open up during the sessions.

Your hand closes around your left forearm and you feel the familiar urge to scratch the skin there. Instead, you breathe deeply a few times until your mind is clear, preferring to poke the cuticle of your nails.

Your eyes turn again to your files, studying the name “Edward Nygma" written in large letters on the cover. You flip through the pages quickly, checking if you hadn't forgotten anything.

You shake your head, closing it. That was just nervousness trying to speak louder than reason. You were ready, you had studied for days, you prepared the sessions carefully. You needed to be confident, even more so in the presence of someone like Nygma. You couldn't show weaknesses.

A siren sounds as the heavy metal door opens and you move your gaze in his direction, watching as Nygma was escorted by a guard to the chair in front of you.

Despite the prisoner's clothing, the chains around his wrists, and the fact that he was accompanied by a guard, he was far less intimidating than you thought.

He didn't resemble the man you'd read about. He might tower over you with his height, but his slender silhouette wasn't particularly threatening. His brown hair was a little messy and a pair of glasses landed on his nose.

Nygma didn't look like the monster people described. No psychotic gaze or evil laughter. In fact, he had a bored expression on his face, slightly annoyed, as if he didn't want to be there.

"Thank you, sir," you say to the guard as Edward sits down. "You can go now."

"Are you sure, Doctor? He can be very difficult sometimes," you notice how Nygma rolls his eyes. "Won't you need help?"

"No, I have everything under control and I want Mr. Nygma to be comfortable during our session."

"Alright, then. You have 30 minutes." The guard warns before leaving, the door lock being triggered after it is closed.

Even though you're locked in the same room as one of Gotham's most dangerous men, you don't feel fear. You almost wanted to laugh at your foolishness. Edward was just a man. He was palpable, made of flesh, bone and blood just like you. Of course he had done bad things, but that could be solved with medical treatment, which is why you were there.

You smiled at him, your fingers entwined in front of you. "Good morning, Mr. Nygma. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," you say in a gentle tone, saying your name next. "I'll be your therapist in the next few months, so we'll see each other quite often."

He settles against the metal chair. "Of course it's a pleasure to meet me, Doctor. It's not often you can meet someone with my intellect," he huffs a laugh. "And I don't imagine we'll see each other that often, most of the therapists I've met here have lasted two weeks. Apparently their small minds can't handle a mind such as mine."

You just nod your head, writing on your clipboard the words "self-centered?", "narcissist? " and "megalomaniac?". You had started well.

"First I would like to make it clear that this is a safe space, Mr. Nygma. You have the freedom to say what you have in your mind, but if you don't feel comfortable, you have every right to remain silent. I'm here to help you."

He crosses his arms, the chains tinkling with the movement. "Oh, Doctor. You don't have the ability to help me, and besides, I don't need help from anyone. But it's still adorable that you try."

You cross out the question marks, putting an exclamation at the end of each word.

"It's a shame you think like this, Mr. Nygma. Everyone needs help sometimes."

"Why would I need help from someone below me? You're totally misguided if you think anyone will ever make it to my level.”

"Well, since you don't need my help at the moment, I'd like you to help me with something then."

Edward raises an eyebrow in his direction. "You need... my help?"

"You see," you grab his file, pretending to look for something in particular. "What I've read about you is very superficial, I'd like you to help me understand a few things."

"I'm usually the one asking the questions, but... Go on." He was still distrustful, but at least it looked like you had caught his attention.

"Here it says that you have vast knowledge about engineering and computing, and for a period of time you were a member of the Cybercrime Division of the GCPD. That's impressive."

"I'm aware of my genius, thank you. But your point is?"

"Well, what drives a brilliant man like you to throw that away?"

"Throw it away?" he tosses his head back in a laugh, as if there's a joke only he's aware of. "I didn't throw anything away, Doctor! That place limited my abilities, trapped me with fools. Gotham needed my help, so that's what I did."

"What exactly did you do, Mr. Nygma?"

"I don't expect you to understand, but Gotham has a long history of corruption, older than you and me," Edward stands up, the chair creaking behind him. You try to keep your face relaxed, showing concern would make him think he has some power over you. "The people in power are all stupid. I just wanted to improve the city’s standing, trim it of its corrupt and worthless politicians! That was my plan until the Bat showed up and ruined everything." He sits up again, his shoulders slumped.

"I plan to talk about Batman in our next sessions, for today, I just want to talk about you." You quickly jot down the name of the vigilante, circling it several times. That would be a sensitive topic, but very important to Edward's journey.

"Do you need me to clarify anything else about me, Doctor?" Nygma asks with sarcasm in his voice, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"It also says here that your last name used to be 'Nashton'. Why did you decide to change it?"

"I thought it was obvious, but I suppose not everyone thinks like me. You see, in addition to matching my new persona, it's also a wordplay. Edward Nygma abbreviated is E. Nygma."

"Very clever, but is there no reason beyond that? Don't you get upset about having to lose your father's last name? Usually people tend to have an attachment to these things."

For a second, his eyebrows furrow and he looks away. Maybe that reaction had to do with the mention of his father, or it might be nothing, but you needed to dig deeper.

Edward clears his throat. "No, those are the only reasons."

You write "Troubled childhood? Difficult relationship with parents?". If Edward wasn't ready to open up yet you wouldn't push him, preferring to save those hypotheses for the next sessions.

"Thank you for being so understandable so far, Mr. Nygma. Now, I'd like to know how your staying here in Arkham is going."

"Please, Doctor. If your questions are over you don't need to make small talk with me. I'd even appreciate it if this ended soon."

You shake your head. "I need to know if you're being treated well here. The therapy won't work if you're in a troubled environment."

"You're new here, aren't you?" And you’re very naive too, apparently," he leans in your direction, whispering like he's telling you a secret. "This is Arkham, Doctor. As long as the degenerates and crazy are out of sight of Gotham's good citizens, then that's no one's problem anymore. And the worst part," his fists clench on the table. "It's that they think I deserve to be here! A genius like me trapped among savages! Nobody cares."

"That's not true, Edward," you place your hand over his. "I care."

Edward pulls away from your touch as if it burned him. "Don't touch me!" he screams. "You think your compliments may deceive me, but you're just like the others. Don't lie to me!"

You knew that the guards were watching everything through the security camera and if the patient lost control you had to follow the protocol and press a button under the table for them to come and control him. But if someone intervened you would lose any chance of gaining Edward's trust.

"Please calm down, Edward. I understand your distrust, but I just want to help you," you raise your hands but don't move closer, keeping your voice calm. "Forgive me for touching you without your permission, I've crossed the line. That's not going to happen again."

His chest rises and falls in deep breaths, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. His eyes seem lost, wandering quickly around the room but never stopping at you.

"Tell me about your routine. What do you usually do during the day?" you ask, trying to regain his attention.

"I-i," he swallows dryly, moving his eyes to your face. "They bring them meals to my cell. I can only go out to take showers and during some hours for socializing."

"Do you talk to the others patients?"

"No, I don't waste my time with any of these brutes. They don't have anything interesting to say." His confident mask comes back again, an attempt to take control of the situation. At least he seemed to be calming down a bit.

"And the guards, do they treat you well? It's important that you feel safe."

"Safe? No one feels safe in here, Doctor. But at least they don't hit me, if that's what you want to know."

You check the clock on the wall, realizing that the time limit had already passed.

"All right, our session ends here, but if anything happens, I need you to tell me. Your well-being is one of my priorities."

He laughs, shaking his head. "It's stupid that you think you have any control in here. But if you insist, I'll keep you updated."

You smile sincerely at him. "Thank you, Edward. That's very important to me. Until next session."

He doesn't say goodbye when the guard comes to pick him up, but keeps his eyes on you until he leaves, as if he's searching for something. Something hidden inside you.

——

The sound of your heels echoes down the hallway as you walk toward Director Quincy Sharp's office. Since the Arkham Asylum had reopened all new staff had to make monthly updates on their progress to their superiors and you were no exception.

Luckily the session with Nygma ended on time, since you had to take the longest route to get to Sharp's office.

For some reason your access card only allowed you to circulate through some areas of the asylum, so you ended taking longer travels, but safer. Well, at least that's what the guards told you.

You stop in front of the office door, taking a deep breath before knocking on it.

Sharp's ever-solemn voice sounds behind it, telling you to come in. You push open the door, realizing that Dr. Young was already there as well.

Quincy Sharp's office didn't fail to give you goosebumps. The dim light cast shadows on the room, making it even darker. A woody, antique smell lingered on the furniture, and beyond that, the Director's portraits and statues made you feel watched, as if their eyes were following you. And people thought Nygma was self-centered.

You offer them a small smile, but both the Director and Dr. Young maintain a professional and serious expression. The air in the room feels heavy, almost suffocating.

Even though you were there a few times you couldn't help but curl up against the chair, the skin of your forearm tingling underneath your lab coat.

Quincy clears his throat before he starts speaking. "Glad you've arrived, Doctor. Dr. Young and I were talking about you. Tell me, how is your experience here at the asylum?" the smile on his face is almost gentle, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, like it was something rehearsed.

You clasp your fingers over your lap, trying to ignore the urge to dig your nails into your arm. "It's has been very educational, Mr. Sharp. I thank you immensely for the opportunity."

As much as Arkham had a reputation for dealing with Gotham's most dangerous criminals, you were lucky to have been hired, especially since you didn't have as much experience on your resume. After all, you wanted to help people, that's why you had majored in psychology, so you would do your best no matter where you were.

And even though your superiors were a little distant and cold, you had clung to Dr. Young. She was the head of research at the asylum, a genial woman who could even be kind at times. You were lucky that she decided to take you under her wing as a pupil, guiding you through her research and discoveries. You hoped to be like her one day.

You keep going. "The staff are great and my fellow therapists have been very helpful, but... I have some complaints."

Sharp's thoughtful gaze falters for a second, but the smile remains on his face. Beside him, Dr. Young settles into her chair.

"And what would it be exactly?" Quincy asks.

"Well, I haven't had a chance to get to know the rest of the asylum yet. My card is restricted to only a few spaces and I would very much like to see the patient area." You explain.

You hated how ungrateful you felt. After everything Dr. Young had done, you looked like a child having a tantrum.

Deep down, you know this guilt is ridiculous. In addition to decreasing your walking time, you needed to check for yourself the rooms and the living areas. Even though many there had committed horrific crimes they still deserved to be treated as people, the patients needed a stable environment to improve.

Dr. Young shakes her head, placing a hand on your shoulder. "At the moment it's not possible. The asylum is overloaded with patients and it would be dangerous to walk through some areas."

"I understand, but if only I could make a quick visit. It can be in the living areas or-”

Quincy interrupts you with a wave of his hand. "Please, Doctor," his voice sounds more serious and firm, his gaze fixed on you "don't insist on it. This would be reckless and would likely cause turmoil among the inmates. And we don't want that, do we?"

You swallow dryly, shaking your head. "No sir, I'm sorry. I just wanted to get to know the asylum better." A warmth spreads across your face and you stare at your own hands like a child who has been scolded.

"Don't worry, you'll have that chance," Dr. Young says. "Why don't you tell us about your first session with Mr. Nygma?"

"Oh, of course," you take a deep breath, "Well, let's see. He definitely has a megalomaniac complex, like you said, and despite having some violent tendencies, I think he has a great chance of recovering."

"I think the best decision would be to end his obsession with riddles." Dr. Young suggests.

"That's the right thing to do," Sharp says. "He's been leaving some threatening riddles on the walls of the asylum. We don't know exactly where he gets the materials to do that."

"Maybe we could try to redirect his interest. Puzzles and riddles are a very important part of Nygma, to take that away from him would be cruel." You argue.

"These riddles of his have brought nothing but trouble to people. We should nip this evil in the bud as soon as possible." Sharp punctuates his argument by tapping his finger against the hard surface of the table.

As much as you have several arguments going through your mind, the oppressive environment of the room doesn’t allow you to say anything at the moment. You decide to save your ideas for another time, when you could talk to Dr. Young alone.

"That's all I have to say for now. I'll have other sessions with Nygma soon and will bring new updates." You explain, wishing you could finally escape.

"Alright then, you are dismissed," Sharp says. "Have a nice day, Doctor."

You let out a heavy sigh as the door closes behind you.

You stare into your own hands, noticing a slight tremor in them. You need to clench your fists, breathing deeply to try to contain the nervousness in your chest.

It's almost comical how a simple meeting with your bosses has this effect on you, while talking to a criminal makes you less anxious.

——

You finally get home, sighing in relief after spending hours stuck in traffic.

Before you can turn on the lights, excited meows greet you with joy as Meg rubs herself against your legs.

"Hello, love," you take her in your arms, letting her nestle her head against your cheek. "Sorry for leaving you alone for so long, today was a long day."

Your keys clink with each turn you make on the three locks of your door, passing the bolt last. Even if you had enough money to live in a safe neighborhood, Gotham was still a dangerous city and it was better to be safe than sorry.

You finish taking off your lab coat, leaving it in the hanger next to the entrance.

"Are you hungry?" You ask, walking Meg to the kitchen and putting her on the countertop.

She meows insistently, excited at the idea of food. "I know, baby. Mommy is a monster for starving her baby." You tease, filling her bowl.

It was nice to have someone to take care of, who looked forward to your return home. Ever since Meg came into your life your anxiety had improved and she always made the lonely moments less heavy. You needed her as much as she needed you, maybe even more.

Your fingers scratch her lower back while the other hand pulls the recorder from your pocket, keeping it close to your mouth.

"First session with the patient, Edward Nygma, also known as Riddler. It is already obvious that the patient presents a narcissistic and megalomaniacal complex, needing at all times to demean me as well as others to show his superiority. It still takes more time to determine if this complex comes from a place of low self-esteem. Also, Edward has sudden mood swings and is mildly paranoid," you clear your throat before continuing. "Although Dr. Young thinks Nygma's obsession with puzzles is bad, I think we can redirect it to something healthier. Reminder to buy him a puzzle book," you stare at Meg's cans of food inside the cupboard, counting them quickly. "Reminder to buy more cat food too."

#riddler x reader #riddler x y/n #edward nygma x reader #arkham asylum #arkham riddler #edward nygma #arkhamverse #riddler smut #the riddler fanfic #riddler x you #the riddler #fanfiction

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atom-writings · 1 year

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WAIT A SEC..... you'd do reqs for the batman 2022? if not, i understand, but if you do: can i get uhhh what dano!riddler would look for in a (gn) partner? and/or headcanons on what kind of boyfriend he would be?

(Edward Nashton X Reader) General Relationship Headcanons

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N YES YES YES ok sorry guys skipping ahead for this bcs i want to write it ok thank you. Everyone go listen to mook right now

Trigger Warning: Edward Is Not A Healthy Person Much Less a Healthy Boyfriend, possessiveness kind of? Swearing, also.

Edward is a simple if not unstable man. He’s always been uncontrollably attracted to those that can take care of him. Those that are more like housewives and mothers compared to hard workers. Of course, that’s not to say that he’s only into women. Not at all.

But what he really wants out of a partner is someone willing to focus all of their emotional energy on him. He wants to consume your thoughts, to become that voice in the back of your head. So no matter where you are, you’re caring about him more than anything else.

Because of that… he’d also prefer a S/O that isn’t too independent. There’s nothing more satisfying to him than coming home to you… sobbing because of his absence. Because god help whoever else makes you cry.

Someone weak and unassuming would be perfect too… it just feeds into his ego. Being able to tower over you, grab you and pull you in whichever way he likes… it makes him feel high. He’s always been seen as so sensitive and feeble, so being the strong one out of the two of you, god, he just absolutely loves it.

You’d think he would like someone who struggled as he has, but it’s actually the opposite. He would prefer someone stable and healthy, for one simple reason. If you were as tortured as he was, he wouldn’t be getting a lot of your attention and sympathy, would he? He wants you to fix him… he’ll get around to doing the same for you sometime later though, don’t worry.

However, he would despise having a successful partner. It feels like you’re… looking down on him, PITYING him, just like everyone else. No, no, he has to be the one holding position over you, not the other way around. That’s not to say he sees himself completely as superior to you, though.

As high as his standards may seem, he is an incredibly forgiving and loving boyfriend. You’ve brought him out of the darkness countless times, and he could never do enough to make up for that. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

He’s very, very, very clingy. Anytime that he can be, he’s with you. At home, he’s always holding you close by your hips. On the train to and from work, he insists you come with him so he can hold your hand. At work, he’s texting you constantly. That’s probably the main way his selfishness comes out… he just needs your constant attention and approval.

Anytime that he can, he shows you off. If you’re shy about PDA, that’ll hurt him a little bit. He wants to bring you around, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, just to prove to everyone that he can. Very much a… “You jackasses thought I couldn’t do it. But I did. I got a partner. And they’re incredible. You miserable bastards wish you had a partner like I do,” … complex.

Although he likes more house-wifey S/Os, when he gets home he loves to pamper you. You’ll have to beg him not to make you dinner after he gets out of work most nights. After all, isn’t that what he wanted you to do for him?

Maybe trade out “taking care of you,” for “taking care of his disgusting apartment.”

He’s put up with so much in his life that it’s hard for him to get truly angry with you. Like even if you slapped him across the face, he’d probably just tear up and ask why you did that, compared to screaming and throwing things. (Well, it’s a different story when he’s in his whole… Riddler mood.) He just can’t imagine hurting such an innocent being who has done so much for him. It makes him a little too forgiving.

But it just makes him even more of a teddy bear around you. And who doesn’t want that? Sure, sometimes he goes mad and brutally executes the corrupt elite, but more importantly he is doing it all to make a better world for the two of you to share! You deserve it, you know?

#edward tag #riddler x you #riddler x reader #riddler x y/n #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you

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wenwenbittercake · 8 months

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Chapter 5: Apologies Unheard

(Thank you for reading my fanfic. Here to remind you all again that this fanfic’s story line is not made by me. I just insert Y/N into the Riddler 2022 comic. I really recommend you read the comic beforehand. With that said, I hope you enjoy~

TW: Kidnapping, Drugging, Swearing)

How did this happen to me?

Around 12am, you roll around the bed, eyes wide open in thoughts. Why was he ignoring me? Did I upset him by what I said before? No, I didn’t say anything out of the line though. Oh no, what If I was a bother to him. You sit up on the bed. Your eye shift to your phone. I should try giving him a text.

Y/N: Hey I know it’s been a while but how are you doing? I’m sorry if I bothered you last time. I didn’t mean to; I was just worried about you. If you really want to do this, then I won’t force you out of it. Just be careful what you are dealing with.

Wait no, that’s still too long.

You: Hey I know it’s been a while but how are you doing? I’m sorry if I bothered you last time. I didn’t mean to; I was just worried about you./

No, still too much

You: Hey I know it’s been a while but how are you doing?

Hmmmm, we can work with that.

You send the message and lay back down on the bed. Eyes on the ceiling fan as your mind falls back into the abyss of thoughts. You don’t understand why you start to like Edward. No, it’s more like a curiosity than ‘like’ really. To be honest, he scares you sometime. You can feel something seriously wrong with him, something unexplainable. Like he’s hidden in plain sight but when you spot him, your heart jumps out of the rib cage in shock. But you suppress it down to be closer to him for one reason.

He looks so familiar. Like a lost memory that you can’t put your hand around. A missing piece to your puzzling mind.

You were always a people pleaser. You weren’t like this all the time. Maybe your parents’ divorce has to do something with it. Ever since you moved downtown, you start being a people pleaser. ‘Hey Y/N can you go fill my water bottle?’ ‘Hey Y/N can you grab my books from my lockers?’ ‘Grab me a coffee while you’re at it, the usual.’ You hate it. Not the constant demands but the way you put up a kid’s TV host smile and reply, “Sure.” It’s almost a habit, saying ‘no’ even feels odd on your tongue.

“You should stop doing that.”

“Huh?” You turn to the voice beside you.

You are at the lobby of KMTJ. Waiting for the rain to calm down since you forgot to bring your umbrella, when a guy in his 20s pops up out of nowhere beside you. You were surprised by how you do not notice his presence until you heard his voice.

“Um Excuse me?”

“You should stop doing that. You say yes to everything.” He spoke softly as if he was speaking under his breath. How did you noticed?

“Oh really? I didn’t even notice that.” I said with a nervous smile.

“See you’re doing that again,”

That caught her a bit off guard.

“A what?”

“That smile. It’s fake.”

Part of you felt offended that a random stranger would call you out like that. Who does he think he is. But you…

“Oh, um sorry.”

“You can say I’m being a dick right now.”

“Wait no, you’re not-“

“No, it’s fine, you said yes, your whole life. Putting others before yourself. You’ll end up forgetting about yourself. Scream if you want to scream. Shout if you have to shout. Don’t hold back because if you hold back for long, you wouldn’t be able to make a sound in the future.”

Your eyes widen. The sound of rain drops fills the silence. The man looks down to the wet ground or the raining scenery but never turning to look at you. But you. Your eyes never left his. His words ring in your head.

‘Shout if you want to shout.’

You part your lips and-

“Ahhaa” You scream but it comes out as a pathetic squeal. The man turns his head to look at you in a flabbergasted expression.

You quickly clap your palms over your mouth.

You look up at him with wide eyes. And-

“Hahahehahah-“The man laugh hysterically at you. He covers face with his face and laughs. One of his hands holds his stomach to control himself.

“Stopp, you said I should scream. I still want to try- you know what forget it.” You turn to the left with a redden face before you feel a large hand holding your wrist. You turn around in surprise.

“I-I’m sorry but that was great. You did great.” He said with a smile on his face. His cheeks red from laughing so hard earlier. He looks so……...warm.

“I um don’t know why I told you that, I just don’t want to see you being stepped on by other people. The quote I just said is um from Rene. You should listen to his podcast. He give-“ He looks to the floor nervously. He rubs the back of his neck to calm his nerves.

“What’s your name?” You mutter softly, your eye never leaving his green eyes, but the boy’s gaze leaves the marble floor beneath him. His eyes drift to meet hers.

“Edward Nashton. You?”

“I’m Y/N L/N.”

．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．

“Ting” Y/N didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep before she was woken up by the sound of her phone. She rolls to her side to check her phone and-

Eddie: Can we meet up? Right now?

Huh? That’s odd. Did something happen to him. Y/N start to worry.

You: Hey did something happened?

She quickly sat up on her bed, putting on her light gray jacket.

Eddie: It’s really important, I fucked up. I know it’s all of a sudden, but I need to meet you.

He didn’t even need to say it twice. She already got her shoes on with her phone in her hand.

You: Ok ok where? I’m coming.

Eddie: Can you meet me at the opposite at Shoreline loft? My apartment is there.

You: Okay just give me a few minutes, I will be there.

Y/N only realizes how off the situation is until she reaches the street. Her head is too wrapped up with worrying over Edward that she forgot to worry for herself. She looks around the neighborhood and realized how fucked up the place is. Shoreline loft is literally beside Iceberg Lounge. Why would Edward live in a place like this. She obviously looks so out of place, wearing her pjs and a jacket, walking down East End. What is she trying to get herself into?

You: Hey Edward, I’m near Iceberg lounge, where is your building?

Shortly after she texted that. She felt a tap on her shoulder. She jolted and almost screamed before meeting those familiar green eyes.

“Shit god, sorry Edward, you scared me.”

“Sorry I- come, I really need to talk to you.” Edward face look like he had seen a ghost, or he turned into a ghost because of how pale he looks. His eyes widen as if he had seen a dead body (Ironically)

Edward leads her up to a flight of dark green stairs. She follows close by him, taking note of how dingy the place is. With graffiti on the stairs and the wall beside them. This place is a mess. When we got to his front door. He struggles hard with opening the lock due to how hard his hands were trembling. Y/N started to worry about what he had really got himself into.

“Here, let me help.” She gently takes the key from his hand and opens the red door with ease. He mutters a quick thanks before entering the apartment.

After she closed the door behind her, she turned to face the apartment and realized how unkept it is. Not as in ‘messy-unkempt’ but doesn’t look like a home. The walls were yellow and beige with mold spots. Cold air surrounds the atmosphere with a slight mold and chemical smell to it. That’s when she realizes how dangerous her situation is. Even if she knew Edward, she’s not close enough with him to be at his apartment in ungodly hours. Furthermore, she was so in rush she didn’t even think of telling anyone that she was going to Edward’s house. No one knows she’s here. No one will know if he were to do anything to her.

“E-Edward? What is that you want to tell me?” She mutters trying to not sound nervous even though her trembling lips.

Edward grabs a glass of water and takes a huge gulp. He leans against the sink and lets out deep sigh before turning his head slightly to Y/N. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Um sure.” She except even though in her mind she wants to scream no and run out of the apartment.

Edward grabs a juice bottle from his fridge and starts to prepare a drink for her. He looks like he’s in a rush as his movements are quick and rapid.

“Um you can go take a seat on the-um.” He stops and thinks for a bit. He peers at his apartment with his hands on his hip.

His eyebrows raises a bit as if he had an idea. He walks into the other room. Y/N follows behind. He grabs a green chair at the corner of the room and places it in the middle of the room.

“There, have a seat.” With that he went back to the kitchen.

She did ask he ask her to. She waits there patiently. Her eyes wander over the piles and piles of ledgers stacked up over one another. There’s so many files and books that it spills out of shelves and piles up on the floor. The most concerning things in the room are cages. Rat cages, many of them. Y/N skin crawls at the sight of it even if there isn’t a single mouse in it.

“Here.” Edward hands her a glass of red liquid. She gulps at the sight of it. Something feels odd.

“It’s um cranberry.” He replies swiftly as if he realizes her suspicions.

“Oh okay.” She sips the juice not wanting to be rude.

“So, about what you want to say to me.”

“Oh, yea um, I-I saw a man die today.” Edward said as he sits on the rolling stool across her.

“What?” Y/N jaw drops.

“Yea, fuck.. I… Mr. Stone he-he’s in it too. He killed Mr. Joon too.”

“Wait wait slow down. Why would he do that?”

“He’s working For Falcone. He believes Mr. Joon was cutting money from him. Which is not true, and I think I may have caused his death.”

“Wait how?”

“I..I was the accountant that pointed out the dirty money. Which cause Mr. Stone to look through it and…” Edward’s voice quite down at the end of the sentence which Y/N could probably guess what happened.

He drops his head, with his face covering his palm and groans in frustration. Shortly follows by Edward’s quiet sobs. Y/N’s heart aches at the sight of Edward being in despair. She places her half empty cup on his work desk and directs her attention back to him. She places her hand softly over his back and caresses his back. He looks up to her with his tear soak cheeks. Without an ounce of disgust, Y/n wipes his tears off his cheeks with her thumb and caresses his face tenderly. She looks at him in such forgiving eyes. Something he doesn’t deserve.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly, Y/N got a sudden hit of daze. Her surroundings start to fade out. Her body and eye lids gradually start to grow heavy. Her body falls limp out of the chair on to the floor. Before she could make the impact, Edward swiftly got out of his rolling stool and caught Y/N in his arms on the floor.

“I’m sorry, I just had to I’m sorry.” He apologizes sound more like cries for forgiveness. He wraps his arms around her tightly, pulling her limp body close to him.

“I just had to.” He murmurs mostly to himself then to her as the last thing she felt was Edward’s hands holding her.

．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．

Warmth. That’s what she remembered. Fire dances across her eyes. The sound of cries and scream echoes through the dark empty house. However, an award hand pats her back.

It feels warm.

Nice

And safe.

She leans into the touch, leaning her head against his small shoulders. Her eyes never leaves the fire dancing in the fireplace of her old house.

“What’s your name?” Her small voice came out.

“Edward. You?”

Edward

．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．．<{=．．．．

Fuck Fuck fuck. What the fuck Edward? You got one thing good in your life and what have you done?

Edward contemplated what he had done while sitting beside Y/N on the bed in a fetal position. He chews on his nails anxiously as he waits all night for her to wake up. Did I give her too much. No, If I’m correct, she should be waking up soon. God is she dead? Edward often checks on her pulse or her breath when he has that thought. He places her ear on her chest slightly, to hear her heartbeat, it reassures him that she’s here, she safe, and she’s with him.

He reasons with himself that what he did was right. In fact, he believes he should have done this sooner. The city is corrupted as hell. Isn’t really a place for an angel like her to dwell in. That’s why he needs to keep his angel safe. He hit the realization of how messed up the city is after what went down last night. The thought of losing you in such a manner haunts him. He loves you too much. Too much for him to bear. Too much for his own good. He needs to keep an eye on you. He has too.

Edward finally snaps out of his abyss of thoughts when he felt the shift of the bed sheets. He turns to see Y/N slowly waking up from her forceful slumber. He didn’t speak a word, just watching her mundane action of waking up intrigues him. How he gets the chance to take a peek in her most vulnerable moment.

“Wh-where am i?” She mumbles, struggling to lift her eye lids as the effect of the drugs still hadn’t subside yet. He crawls closer to her from the foot of the bed. His face inches away from her, inspecting any sign of discomfort or nausea from the drugs he gave her.

“Hey hey it’s alright, you’re safe. You’re with me. It’s alright.” He softly coos at her while running his finger through her soft hair then resting his large palms over her cheek. He rubs his thumb over the apple of her cheeks to comfort her.

“Edward?” Y/N tries to get a grip of her reality, but her brain is too scrambled up to take note of her surrounding or how dire the situation is.

“Yea, it’s me Ed. I’m so sorry Y/N. I’m sure the medication will fade away after a while but for now bear with me angel.” He mutters softly as he lays his head on her chest to hear her heartbeat.

His hand travels to her waist. Holding her tight against him as if she could dissipate in any second. His hard breaths gradually start to calm down by the sound of Y/N’s heartbeat. He closes his eyes as he takes in the little peace he has in his hand.

“You’re safe. You are safe now.” He murmurs against her skin. It sounds more like a force comfort as Y/N even in her delirious mind, she feels furthest thing for feeling safe.

(Ok well thank you for reading and yes, Edward’s apartment layout is confusing as shit. Like look man got a kitchen first thing you enter in the house. Here is the layout of his apartment and trust me, I made this out after watching the scene in Batman where Batman raids the Riddler’s apartment/ hide out. So, it’s source material accurate. Or maybe I’m not sure because I only see glimpses of his apartment, so I don’t think I am 100% correct but hey A for effort, right? Thank you for the supports and enjoying my art. There will be more chapters coming up soon so stay tuned. Other than that, thank you and I hope you enjoyed.)

Chapter 6: Salvatore

#dano riddler #edward nashton #riddler x reader #riddler x y/n #riddler x you #the batman 2022 #the riddler #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton x you #paul riddler 2022 #tw kidnapping #kidnap fantasy

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babybluebex · 2 years

Text

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐌𝐄 | 𝐞𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | eddie has an idea that you agree to, but is it worth it, letting his followers watch him fuck you live on stream? 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | edward nashton (the batman, 2022) x fem!reader 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 | smut— fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex, premature ejaculation (he can be dom all he wants, he's still the eddie we know and love), voyuerism, misogyny, degradation, dumbification, he fingers you with his gloves on at one point and i can't remember what that kink is called lmao 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 | blah blah posting on wednesday whatever have this right now hehe // follow @cremebruhleewrites to be notified when i post a new story! // support my writing!

You giggled as you situated yourself on Eddie’s lap, turning slightly to see his face. His plastic mask was a little crooked on his face, the cling wrap on his hair pulled flat and tight. “Looking good, honey,” you smiled, lightly reaching up to fix his mask. “They’re gonna love you.”

“They’ll love you too,” Eddie told you, and the mask shifted as he smiled. “Remember, don’t use my name. I won;t use yours. Okay? You ready?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Start it up.”

Eddie leaned forward to reach his computer, and you laughed again as his arm snaked around your waist to reach the keyboard. You had talked about doing something like this for a long time, and your willingness to do it certainly seemed to surprise Eddie. He had admitted the fantasy to you one day as you laid in bed together, panting and sticky with sweat and cum— “I wish I could fuck you on stream, have everyone see you, y’know?”— and you were hesitant at first, but Eddie had talked you into it. There wasn’t any real harm in it, was there? People posted videos of themselves having sex all the time, he told you, and some people even got paid to do it. Eddie assured you that his followers would like the content, and he smoothed his hand down your arm as he kissed you. “They’re just horny guys who would love to see you,” he said. “If you need to quit halfway through, you can.”

The computer beeped as it started up the livestream, and the camera light blinked green as it turned on. Eddie’s arms went around your middle and held you close, and you leaned forward to watch followers spill into the stream. The trickle was slow, and you pushed your hair out of your face and clutched Eddie’s thigh underneath you as the first comment came in: who’s the slut lol

“Hey, guys,” Eddie began, his meek voice in complete dissonance with the intimidating costume he wore. “Um, this is my girlfriend. She just wanted to say hi before we got started today.”

“Hi,” you echoed and gave a small laugh as the comments trickled in.

ur beautiful

WTF man you have a girlfriend??

“This is scary,” you mumbled, and Eddie’s hand reached under the hem of your shirt to lightly stroke your skin.

“We can stop,” Eddie whispered in your ear, and you shook your head.

“He’s told me all about you guys,” you giggled, wrapping an arm around Eddie’s neck. “It’s so exciting to actually meet you.”

Eddie’s hand smoothed forward from your hip to your thigh, playing with the edge of your panties under your shirt. His eyes watched the comments, just the same as you did, and you skipped over every comment calling you a slut or whore and focused more on the angrier ones, like the commenter was betrayed by Eddie having a girlfriend. You suppose, in a way, they were; he seemed like he was singularly focused on the mission at hand, and now he suddenly has a girlfriend. “Oh, babe,” you whined. “They hate me.”

Thankfully, Eddie was on the same wavelength as you, amping it up for the camera, and he cooed softly. “No, they don’t, baby,” he said, even though the majority of the comments contradicted him. His gloved fingers continued to play with the hem of your shirt and panties, and you watched the viewer count skyrocket in time with him pushing his fingers down into your panties. “They love you. Look, they’re calling you all these pretty names.”

She’s cute tbh

what a slut shes just with him to fuck him

Cunt ass bitch you should get rid of her

“It’s all the same names I call you,” Eddie said, pressing his cold masked face into your neck. “Bitch and slut. And I love you, right?”

You nodded, tilting your head to look at him. You smiled as you saw his green eyes sparkle behind his glasses, and you placed a quick kiss to where his mouth was underneath the mask. His hand gently cupped your pussy in your panties, and your breath caught in your throat. There was no bailing now. “Baby?” you mumbled, and his free hand wrapped around your throat, holding you tight.

“Speak up, baby girl,” he told you. “Do you want something from me?” You nodded quickly, and his hand on your pussy twitched, like he was overly eager to finally touch you. “What do you want?”

“I-I want you to touch me,” you told him, and Eddie laughed beneath his mask.

“I already am touching you,” Eddie said. Your skin rippled when you saw, out of the corner of your eye, the chat explode in response to what was inevitably going to happen, but you couldn’t pay attention well enough to actually read the comments. “Want me to touch you somewhere else, baby?”

“Y-Yes, please,” you stammered. “Touch my clit, baby, please?”

“Good girl,” Eddie said, and his middle finger lightly touched your clit. The leather of his gloves was cold on your sensitive nerve, and you gasped and jolted your hips forward into his hand. Eddie laughed softly, pressing his face into your neck, and he added, “God, you’re easy. Isn’t she so easy? I hardly touch her and she’s already moaning like a slut.”

You couldn’t even bear to open your eyes to see the response on the computer, but the pleasure that Eddie’s fingers gave you as he rubbed your clit was too powerful. Your thighs couldn’t help but shake as he pleasured you, and he whispered, “You’re doing great, baby.”

“Thank you,” you whispered back, and Eddie laughed. Your hands floated up to try to find purchase on him somewhere, and your fingers found his shoulder. You grabbed at his jacket with a whimper and tugged, and Eddie pressed his mask to your neck, almost like he was trying to kiss your skin.

“You want more?” Eddie asked.

“Please,” you said with a nod, and Eddie was quick to tug at your panties, getting them off. It felt so wrong to expose yourself so much on camera, but the taboo of it only made your stomach tingle with excitement.

“There you go,” Eddie told you as he tugged off your panties, balling them up in his hand. You chanced a nervous glance at the computer, and the chat was actively sending messages that you couldn’t read, although you could take a guess at what degrading comments they were making about you. Eddie pulled you a little closer to his body and pushed your legs open further, and, without warning, he dipped a finger into your wet cunt. You jumped at the cold leather inside your channel, but you couldn’t help the sigh that escaped you.

“Babe,” you whimpered, tugging hard at his jacket.

“Oh, what?” Eddie asked. “Does it feel that good?”

You couldn’t do much else than whimper at the feel of his finger and the glove, and you opened your eyes to see the chat. You knew that Eddie had around 500 followers, averaging about 15 viewers on a stream on a good day, but the small counter at the top of the screen told you that 500 people had joined the screen and watched. You wondered how many were followers and how many likely followed a link that their friend had sent them, but Eddie’s long, slender finger hit that spot inside you without much searching, and your eyes closed tight as you moaned in shock.

Your pussy clenched hard around Eddie’s finger, and he laughed into your ear. “I asked you a question, baby,” he said, and he quickly added a second finger. The stretch was so wonderful, and your mind went blank. What had he asked you?

His fingers fucked up into that special spot once again, driving home hard and making you jolt, and, even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he was smiling at you. “I asked,” he began. “If this feels good.”

“Yes!” you whimpered. “Yes, baby, feels so good, fuck.”

“Good,” he whispered to you. “You’re so tight, fuck, baby girl. Can you guys see this, how tight she is? Fuck, can’t wait to get you on my cock.”

“Fuck!” you gasped. “Baby, want your cock so bad!”

“Ask nicely,” Eddie told you, and you moaned as he fucked up into you again with his cold, gloved fingers, hitting your sensitive spot again. This time, when you moaned, Eddie added his thumb to the mix, lightly toying with your clit. If he wanted you to cum before he properly fucked you, he was doing everything just the way he needed to. The hot pleasure settled deep into your belly, tugging at your legs and making them shake, and Eddie lightly slapped your inner thigh.

“Please!” you yelped as his hand connected with the flesh of your thigh. “W-Want your cock so bad, please, please, please!”

“Four pleases,” Eddie said. “Desperate much, huh? I’ll tell you what, if you can cum on my fingers, I’ll let you have my cock, okay? Does that sound fair?”

“Baby,” you whined, and Eddie pulled his fingers from inside you and sent a harsh smack to your pussy. You squealed and instinctively tried to close your legs, but Eddie held them open with his strong grip.

“You should be thankful I’m making it that easy for you,” Eddie told you. “You should be fucking thanking me, because I’m not letting myself feel any pleasure at all. It’s all about you, sweetheart, what about me? You’re not touching my dick, imagine how bad I have it. That’s so typical of me too, isn’t it? Always worried about others, never worried about myself.”

For a moment, you were concerned that Eddie was serious, that he was actually upset with you, and your heart began to sink until you felt his palm settle over your outstretched neck and squeeze lightly. “Open your eyes, baby,” Eddie told you. “Look at them, they love it.”

The computer reflected back to you exactly what you saw, and you watched the comments file in, calling you and Eddie all sorts of things, good and bad. There was a small faction of commenters that seemed to really be liking the content, because every few seconds a notification popped up on Eddie’s computer screen, saying that so-and-so donated $5 or $10 dollars. “You worry about yourself all the time,” you told him. “Just because you’re not selfish in bed doesn’t mean that you’re totally detached from your own needs. You needed that silly little orphanage gone, so what did you do? You did what you wanted a-and burned it down.” You stuttered as Eddie’s free hand, the one not around your throat, began to lightly trail along your thighs, and he squeezed your neck just a bit to urge you on. “Gotham’s hurt you, baby, and you’re taking back what’s yours. And nobody is telling you to do this, you’re doing it because you want to.”

“But it still benefits everyone else,” Eddie countered.

“Th-There’s nothing wrong with that,” you told him. You knew that he only wanted you to spout his rhetoric to entice his viewers to stay, but you wondered how many of the new, first-time viewers agreed with it. And, more than that, who agreed with it because it was you saying it instead of Eddie? “If you’re doing it for yourself, that’s what matters. You are selfish, baby, I promise you are.”

“Good,” Eddie said, and his hand on your thigh stilled. “Stand up, I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You did as he told, leaning forward and bracing your hands on his desk, bringing you closer to the computer than before. You giggled as Eddie hastily tugged off your shirt and squeezed your tits for just a moment, “Hi,” you said softly to the camera, and the comments came in rapid-fire:

Ur so fucking hot

I bet he fed you those lines huh

You couldn’t say much more, because Eddie’s grip on your waist tightened and he tugged you back so that your bare cunt hit his clothed dick. He was hard inside his pants, and you started to reach around behind you to feel him, but his hands left your hips and grabbed your wrists tightly. “Bad girl,” he said, and he sent a swift but hard spank to your ass. “No touching. You want me to be selfish, so I will be; I’m going to fuck you until I’m finished, I don’t care if you cum or not.”

You smiled at the prospect, and you bit your lip as you felt him remove a hand from your wrists to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. You could hear his heavy breathing from the mask, and he suddenly tugged you back, pressing his face into your neck.”Thank you,” he whispered and, even though you were a little unsure what he was thanking you for, you turned and gave him a little kiss on his mask where his cheek would be.

He kicked your feet apart with his boot, opening your legs, and he took no time to hesitate before he pressed the spongy head of his cock against you. Your new position closer to the computer helped you read every comment, and your moan turned into soft laughter as the camera caught a glimpse of Eddie’s hard cock and the viewers reacted accordingly: holy shit why is he hung like a horse??

“Look at the comments,” you whispered to Eddie, and he lifted his eyes from your cunt to the computer, and he let out his own breathless laughter.

“Aw, guys,” Eddie said bashfully, and you knew he was thankful for the mask to hide his blush. “You’re too nice to me.”

“They’re right,” you told him, and his mask shifted as he clenched his back teeth.

“Shut up,” he chuckled, and he parted your pussy lips with his cock, threatening your throbbing hole. “You want my dick, you’ve gotta be quiet.”

“Yes, sir,” you said playfully, but Eddie’s grip on your hands suddenly became tight and painful, and his free hand lifted from your throat to shove two of his fingers on your mouth.

“You’re such a whore,” he mumbled, and, with a swift snap of his hips, sank himself fully into you. You gasped around his fingers and moaned in shock, and Eddie let out his own moan at your wet heat. “God, you feel so good… Fuck, baby.”

You couldn’t even speak at the feeling, the same tingling from before permeating your body. It was a reminder of how close you had been before Eddie had cruelly stopped fingering you, and you worried how long you’d last in his grip.

Eddie slowly pulled back, letting you feel every ridge of his burning cock, and he took a deep breath once only his head remained in you. “I can feel you throbbing, baby,” he chuckled. “How close were you before I stopped?”

You nodded quickly, trying to tell him with his fingers still shoved in your mouth, and you whined as he slowly, almost torturously fucked back into you. It felt like heaven, and your hands flexed for something to hold onto to keep yourself grounded.

“Poor thing,” Eddie mumbled. “What do you think, guys, should I let her cum?” His eyes flicked over all the comments, all the yeses and nos and why the fuck do we cares, and he finally said, “You can cum whenever you need, baby, but remember what I told you earlier?”

You shook your head, and Eddie removed his hand from your mouth and hit your cheek. The leather of his glove stung, and he reached down to his desk and fumbled for a moment before recovering a roll of duct tape. “I told you,” he started as he pulled out a length of tape, ripping it easily. “That I was gonna fuck you until I came, remember? Or are you already too cock-drunk to remember five minutes ago?”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, and Eddie grabbed your hands and quickly taped your wrists together. The tape pinched your skin and pulled at the delicate hairs on your arm, but you didn’t complain. You couldn’t; you were fucking the Riddler, after all, and he used duct tape at his crime scenes. It was his M.O. Once he was satisfied that you were secure, he grabbed your hands and pushed himself deep inside you, so deep that it made you gasp.

“Fuck,” Eddie mumbled, and he started up a quick rhythm, fucking you in time nearly with his heartbeat. “You feel so good. Jesus Christ, honey… I bet everyone watching this is fucking jealous. They want to fuck you too. You wouldn’t let them, though, right? Only me?”

“Only you,” you echoed, and you knew that Eddie was smiling under his mask.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Eddie told you. The wet sounds of him fucking you were filling your ears and making you go a little dumb, and you couldn’t help the moans that left you with every fuck in he gave. It was all too good, and you whimpered as he continuously hit that spot inside you.

“Baby!” you cried. It was so difficult to remind yourself not to use his real name, and you imagined it was hard work for him too. You had never called him baby as much as you were, and, while you didn’t like it, you missed the way his name felt in your mouth. “I’m gonna cum! Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum…”

“I told you that you could cum whenever you need to,” Eddie said, smacking your ass hard as he tugged you back onto him. “Only that I wasn’t gonna stop until I came. But that’s very nice, warning me… Maybe you’re good for something yet.”

You whimpered and cried as he continued to abuse the nerve inside you, and you were thankful that he was in tune with you, because he reached around in front of you and started to play with your clit, helping you reach your finish quickly. “Oh, fuck,” you whined, unable to hold it back anymore, and your fingers clawed for some part of him to hold onto. You found his jacket, the pocket that you had helped him paint a big black question mark on, and you held it tightly as your body gave in to everything he did, and you came. The heat invaded every inch of you, from head to toe, and you felt your knees go weak as he slipped from inside you and held you close. You couldn’t even speak for the fire that ravaged you, and you let your head hang as you tried to regain some semblance of normal breathing.

“Fuck,” you heard Eddie mumble, his voice distant from the ringing in your ears. “Now, that’s just fucking embarassing.”

“What?” you asked softly, and Eddie gave a heavy sigh as he sat back down in his chair and hauled you into his lap. He was panting just like you were, and you could see the red flush in the eye holes of his mask. “Oh, fuck, baby. You came so quick!”

“I promise I usually last longer than that,” Eddie mumbled to his computer, and he held you close as he reached forward and retrieved a pair of scissors from his desk. Carefully, he split the tape around your wrists, and you threw yourself forward, hugging him around his neck. Your fingers dug under the collar of his jacket and found his warm skin, and you sat and panted with him until his arms went tight around you, holding you firmly as you straddled his thigh.

“How the fuck do I end this?” Eddie mumbled in your ear, and you laughed despite yourself. “Thank you guys for watching this… Unconventional stream, I guess. Thanks for all the likes and comments and-and donations, those are new. Anything you wanna say, baby?”

“I hope you guys enjoyed it,” you said, turning slightly to see the computer. “Let him know if you want me back, I-I’d love to come back.”

Eddie waited for a moment, reading all the last comments that filtered in, before he ended the stream with a sigh. The room went dark for a moment, then the bright white of the screen lit everything back up. “Oh my God,” he mumbled, and you helped him take off his mask and tear the cling wrap from his head. His face was red, his cheeks nice and bright, and his downy hair was sweaty and smoothed flat against his head. You had never seen him look more beautiful, though.

“You okay?” you asked, and Eddie nodded.

“Are you?” he asked, and you leaned close to bury your face in his warm neck. You nodded, placing a kiss on his neck, and Eddie’s hand came up to capture your cheek. “You did so good, baby, I’m proud of you.”

“You did good too,” you told him, and you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his pretty pink mouth. Finally, you were allowed to kiss him, and it felt perfect. “Just try not to cum immediately next time, okay?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and smacked your ass one last time. “Whatever you say, baby.”

#the riddler x reader #riddler x y/n #the riddler smut #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x y/n #edward nashton smut #paul dano x reader #paul dano x y/n #paul dano smut #the batman 2022 #the riddler #riddler #edward nashton

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mimikw · 1 year

Text

Random Edward Nashton HCs

>> This is very short and also VERY random,,, slight suggestive/nsfw-ish hcs mixed in too

>> g/n reader ლ⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠ლ⁠)

At some point he got depressed and started eating more than usually, causing him to become chubby

There was a cat outside his college building and he would bring it canned foods, he sometimes forgets to because of how busy he gets.

He had crushes back in the orphanage, a boy and the other one's a girl.

He first had a crush on the boy who confessed to him (He believed that he actually liked him). He eventually finds out that it was just a dare from the boy's group of friends and cried himself to sleep.

He makes anagrams of your name

Constantly thinks of you. He couldn't even focus on his work sometimes.

When he misses you he would text you riddles.

It's shown in the comic that he listens to podcasts. I think he would listen to podcasts often after work or when he's in the train.

When you're out for a long time, he cuddles your shirt or jacket to sleep.

Has back/chest acne scars. He really doesn't like them

I think he'd be very clean, and by clean I mean he would wash his body twice, doesn't like the thought of being dirty so he makes sure he had cleaned every spot.

Makes random doodles on napkins or notepads.

Definitely has a thing for your thighs and love bites

Will show you off in some of his Livestreams, and ofc, his followers floods the chat

Does the sharing the other side of the earphones thing

Always holds your hand in the subway, diner, litteraly anywhere you go together

He collects random tiny trinkets/figures and places them on his desk

Has like two anime figures, sitting on his desk, I'm thinking of those chibi Miku figurines (He doesn't know who Miku is he just thought it was cute)

He goes to surplus stores, it's where you can buy random second hand stuff. He just looks around when he's free or when he feels like it. That's also where he found the Miku figurines.

If you have fluffy hair, he'll play with it when you're cuddling, stroking and petting your head. When you tell him to stop cause it always gets messy and covers your eye, yeah he'll stop for a little while, he keeps coming back to playing with it but quickly stops himself, He'll eventually play with your hair again.

Likes kaomojis, he thinks they're cute and silly.

When he comes home from "cleansing the city" and finds you still awake and waiting for him... He'll start cooing sweet things at you, telling you how much you don't deserve to live in this god forsaken city... ends up with you making out... and then to something else.

You never go out for groceries alone, he always has to be with you, specially when it's dark.

Goes to the local library and buys 15 puzzle books regularly.

He has a small Totoro keychain

Yk how most people dream of writing handwritten love letters for your partners, he's like that but in a more lovesick seial killer insane way

Used to be a part of a debate club and every opponent he gets hates him, he always defeats them anyway.

Has a few candies in his jacket's pocket.

He doesn't usually drink or get drunk, but one time he did and started saying random shit, also said to himself a little too loud how much he always wanted to make you feel good, that he could spend hours fucking you dumb. He wakes up completely forgotten about everything he said.

That's all I can think of for now, when I get more random thoughts i'll make a second part. (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

Thank you for taking your time to read all of this!

#edward nashton x reader #riddler x reader #dano riddler #riddler x y/n #riddler x you #edward nashton #im in love with him #someone tell me how to hide this in read more

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girlnextdoooor · 9 months

Note

could you maybe write a riddler x reader where they meet and bond in prison? i think it would be a cute little partners in crime story :3

- 🖤

partners in crime || riddler x gn!reader

summary: A smile crosses your face at the sentiment. "I like think we'd make very good partners as well. We'll test run that theory once I have us on the outside."

warnings: friendly stuff, canon-typical violence, slow build (?)

a/n: i might end up doing a part two to this at some point honestly since this one was kind of short and i love this concept. enjoy :) <3

The cell buzzes again to let the rest of the ward know another person has been added to Arkham's "criminally insane". You, however, didn't think you were insane. Or necessarily a criminal at that.

A drawn out sigh escapes your lips. There is absolutely nothing to this cell in the slightest. Nothing to keep you from being bored, anyways. You take a seat on the edge of probably the world's hardest mattress, that's not really a mattress, and cradle your head in your hands.

Not even an hour ago you had been putting your plan into motion. The plan being to eliminate the upper executives of Wayne Enterprises, and anyone stupid enough to get in the way of that if need be. Taking a life is fair and just if the life is hurting the majority was your mental note. You had successfully taken out a number of people without so much as being sought after, partially thanks to the Riddler and the commotion he caused.

A series of loud booms sound across the city, startling you from your thoughts. You quickly jump up and peek through the small window, at least attempting to see what's going on. Suddenly, all the guards are running out of the gates of Arkham.

Spinning around, your eyes connect with the backs of the last remaining guards and the TV that's been left on to Gotham's news station. The Riddler had been planting bombs in a series of vans across the city, and then more at the dam.

A small smile creeps onto your face. "He really did it", you whisper to yourself. Laughter is heard from the cell directly next to you.

"I did, with some help from my... friends", an anonymous man responds. You chuckle a little bit, having heard through the grapevine that the Riddler was being held in Arkham. "Well, you did better than I was doing. Used a lot of your bigger stunts to keep my business in the dark. Worked pretty well, I'd say", you state, shrugging at no one in particular.

"How'd you know you're talking to the Riddler?", he inquires. You let out a slow, shaky breath. "I used to watch your streams here and there. Helped me time my own antics, that kind of thing".

Which was true. You watched his streams often, and would plan your missions in time with his; a one-sided, symbiotic relationship of removing the cancers of Gotham. Sometimes you hoped you'd run into him, just to be able to meet him on the outside. Maybe even work together and plan cohesively.

"I admire that". You can hear the smile in his voice, making your ears tinge the lightest shade of pink. Thank God nobody else can see me right now, you think. "We could've made great partners in our shared goal", he finishes.

A smile crosses your face at the sentiment. "I like to think we'd make very good partners as well. We'll test run that theory once I have us on the outside."

"I'd like that very much. Do you have a plan?" He asks. You shake your head no towards yourself. "Not yet, currently working on it. Although now would probably be a good time since everyone's distracted", you respond.

"I might have an idea", he giggles. This is going to be fun.

#paul dano x reader #riddler x reader #riddler x y/n #riddler x you #batman #batman 2022 #reqs!

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caesariawritesstuff · 7 days

Text

Behave

(Arkham!Riddler x Reader x Arkham!Scarecrow)

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ●

“Crane,” Edward’s voice boomed throughout the workshop, laced with a thick irritation. He stormed across the room, goggles resting atop his head.

The annoyed tone in Edward’s voice made you look up from the crossword puzzle you were working on. Johnathon looked up; eyes narrowed. His masked expression stoic as ever. You paused, your pencil hovering an inch above the paper.

“How many times have I told you not to leave your toxin out?” Edward asked, thrusting a vial of Crane’s fear toxin towards him. “I already had one unpleasant experience being exposed to it last week. I don’t want to have another.”

“My apologies, Edward,” Johnathon said. He took the orange-filled vial from Edward’s gloved hands. His long fingertips wrapped around the glass, before resting it on the desk in front of him. But then, his gaze flickered back to Edward. “Are you sure you don’t want another dose?”

He raised his arm, wear his gauntlet was safely secured to his limb. Needles shot up from the contraption, a clear threat. You sat up straighter in your seat and cleared your throat, making them both look your way.

Never in a million years did you think you’d find yourself in this position: dating both Edward Nigma and Johnathon Crane. Two of Gotham’s most notorious and dangerous criminals. Yet here you were, sharing not only your heart and soul with them, but your bed as well. Some nights, you asked Edward into your bed. Other nights, Johnathon. Some night, both of them at the same time. It depended on your mood – and who behaved the most.

You wouldn’t deny it: you liked having both of them dangling on your every word, controlling them with just a look. For such powerful men, knowing they secretly bended to your will and whims behind closed doors made you feel…powerful. Seductive. Sexy. But if only they could learn to get along and stop fighting, things would go much smoother.

“He started it,” Edward said, pointing as Johnathon, like a child tattling on someone else.

Sighing, you rested your cheek in your hand. “Boys, please behave. For me?” You smiled, batting your eyelashes at them.

It was Edward who crossed his arms first, chest puffed out, brows furrowed. His blue eyes studied you carefully; you were still dressed in a silk, lacy black nightgown you’d worn to bed. It was early morning, yet you hadn’t bothered to dress. You could just tell by the look Edward was giving you that he was jealous. Last night, you’d asked Johnathon into bed. And Edward very clearly was not hiding his jealousy well. But it was Johnathon who very quietly returned to his work without another word, focusing his attention on the new vials of fear toxin he was busy concocting. Edward scoffed and spun on his heels, heading to his side of the workshop to return to his work. You smiled, satisfied that you’d broken up the fight. For now.

You returned to your crossword puzzle, trying to focus, but you were too distracted now. You glanced up once more, glancing between the two of them. Edward returned to his workbench, grabbed a wrench, and began working on his next model of Riddlerbots. Johnathon was quiet as he scribbled notes down on a pad of paper beside him. Your heart beat heavy, and excited knots twisted in your stomach. Truth was, you were happy with both of them. Despite the fighting…you loved them. Both of them.

It was Johnathon who suggested the polyamorous relationship. For quite some time, you’d been doing business with both of them. Selling information, providing intel, offering your own criminal services. And as the months passed, the attraction grew. At first, you didn’t quite mind having relations with both of them without the other knowing. Nothing was official, it was simply quiet, passionate nights spent together. But overtime, it seemed both Jonathan and Edward began to catch on to the fact that you were spending your nights with both of them. And so, Johnathon came up with the idea. You were excited, at first. It was Edward who was hesitant; he was too jealous of a man to share you with anyone. But eventually, he caved.

It'd been weeks since the arrangement, and the three of you moved into a new hideout to share. The workshop was divided in half: one side Edward’s, the other Johnathon’s. Edward’s was all machinery and tools and parts. Johnathon’s was beakers and vials and barrels of toxin. For the most part, they kept to themselves, but, well…sometimes they got in each other’s way.

Looking back down at your puzzle, you studied the next question you were on. You reread the question again and again, wondering what it could be – but you were positively stumped. “Eddie,” you said. “What’s an eight-letter word meaning ‘to insert’?”

“Intromit,” he answered without a beat.

“Thank you,” you said, grinning, as you scribbled the next answer in. You continued on with the crossword, scribbling another set of answers in, until you came to a second question that had you confused. “What’s a ten-letter word meaning ‘situated within the walls of a city’?

“Intramural,” Jonathon answered with the same quickness, without looking up once from his work.

“Intramural,” you repeated, writing the letters into the boxes. “Thank you, Johnathon.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Edward stiffen and glance over his shoulder, glaring at Johnathon so hard you could almost feel the heat radiating off him. “I’m surprised at your wit, Crane. You’d think that mask of yours would be squeezing too hard on that small amount of intellect you have.”

Johnathon sighed, but didn’t raise his eyes. “Insults will get you nowhere, Edward.”

“It’s not an insult. It’s a fact,” Edward shot back.

“Boys, please,” you said. You slipped off your seat and walked to the center of the room, glancing between both of them. But first, you wandered over to Johnathon.

He looked up at you, his mask-like mass hiding his expression well. But you leaned forward and placed a gentle, chaste kiss to the side of his face. Then you turned on your heels, wandered back to Edward, and placed a similar kiss to his other cheek.

“Now,” you said. “Please behave?”

Johnathon only nodded and turned back to work. Edward grumbled something under his breath that you couldn’t quite hear. But you smiled and settled back into your seat, glancing up once more. Despite Edward’s quiet mumbling, a small smile twitched at the edge of his lips. And even though Johnathon wasn’t the type of man to smile, you could tell by his relaxed shoulders that he seemed pleased by your kiss.

Smiling, you returned to your crossword puzzle, satisfied. Getting the Scarecrow and the Riddler to listen you was certainly something you reveled in – and if they continued to behave, you’d reward them tonight for their good behavior.

And oh, how you wished they’d behave.

#caesariawrites #arkham riddler #the riddler #arkhamverse riddler #arkhamverse #edward nigma #theriddler #jonathon crane #scarecrow #arkham scarecrow #arkham jonathon crane #riddler x y/n #riddler x reader #the riddler x reader #riddler x you #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you

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undiscovered-horizon · 1 year

Text

Imagine breaking Joker and Riddler out of Arkham.

🫀Requests are open🫀

Something was hanging in the air - had been for the entire week. It seemed as if every day there was a new staff and then there were those suspiciously often power outages... Despite the suffocating strangeness poisoning the already stale air of the high-security hospital, the regular workers acted completely natural, dismissing all questions and suspicions. But those two knew better.

Due to the lack of a better pastime, Joker and Riddler spent a fair amount of time talking. Not always agreeing but always understanding to a degree. They couldn't be sure what exactly was going on, what sublime scheme was happening right under the guards' noses but they were both certain that whatever calamity was going to fall on Arkham, it was going to be their golden ticket for freedom. Little did they know, it was the golden ticket that found them.

On a stormy night, waves crashed furiously against the coast. The anger of the sky was great enough to disturb radio communication and visibility. The water around Arkham quite poetically gave voice to the soul of the chilling place: dark, murky and entirely deranged in its unstoppable rage.

"Team leader, we have a go," you heard through the earpiece. "initiating a lockdown in 3... 2... 1... Building locked. Clearing path to the rooftop."

Darkness fell on the entire complex and red emergency lighting came on. It was time to make a living and uphold your immaculate reputation among the demimonde and desperate prudes.

Emerging from the shadows, you grabbed the head of a nearby guard and broke his neck without hesitation. There were more important things than morality or ethics.

You had spent so much time studying the layout of Arkham, you could find their cells with closed eyes and while walking backwards. One of the reasons you've been so successful with your underworld business was the fact that you never took chances: an acceptable plan is one that physically cannot go wrong.

The bottle of strong you had stolen from the storage room was in your hand. There was something funny about that: in a place where shoelaces and necklaces are forbidden, there are litres of acid. Pouring the corrosive substance, the metal locks sizzled as they were melting away. No longer restrained, the heavy door swung open.

To you, Joker and Riddler looked completely unassuming. Without the knowledge of what they'd done and were capable of doing, they could pass off as those two obnoxious guys in high school who whine about girls not dating them. But yourself you were guilty of a similar crime: nothing about the way you looked exactly screamed 'gun for hire'. They surely had that shadow of madness covering their expressions but their visuals did not strike you as murderous per see, more like incomprehensible rambling.

"The clown and the virgin, the true menaces of Gotham," you said while looking between them. "I tremble in fear."

"Princess peach, aren't you a little too pretty to be a goon?" the Joker said with a lopsided grin. It was just one sentence and you were already up for a fight with him. No doubt he'd love that. "You could make so much money if you considered a change of occupation."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd love that. Now, trot along. We're on a tight schedule." Without sparing another second, you turned around and began walking away from the cells. "Rapture 1, we’re ready for pick up," you spoke to the earpiece.

"Roger that," the man on the other side responded.

"What's going on?" Riddler enquired. His anxiety was too rampant for him to even begin to conceal it. Despite that, he walked along Joker behind you. "Where are you taking us?"

"Today's your lucky day, dearest. Someone rich and important wants you to walk free."

You marched through the concrete halls of Arkham, emergency lighting making the path only kind of visible. Every now and then one of the prisoners-patients would bang on the door demanding or pleading to be taken out of their cell. A few years ago maybe you'd have a speck of sympathy for them. Riddler and Joker seemed to not be up for more questions. The former was probably too confused and untrusting, while the latter simply settled for suspicious snickering.

The strong, cold wind hit your face when you made it to the rooftop. It brought drops of seawater to higher altitudes, mixing it with grimy rainwater that drenched your clothes. Gotham's landscape would be virtually impossible to see if it wasn't for the bright lights of city nightlife.

The whirring blades of the chopper's propeller made it hard to hear one another. "Hop in and let's be gone," you yelled while pointing at the helicopter.

"Oh, but there's a trick, no?" Joker asked between his maniacal cackles. It was hard to say which part of the breakout he was enjoying the most. "Your face might be deliciously innocent but your heart ain't." For a man who was completely out of his marbles, he was smart.

"There's a saying that goes 'when the cat is gone, the mice jaunce'. You know what happens when the mice are gone? The cat goes for bigger prey. And someone wants to make sure that the bigger prey has time to finish what they had started."

"Boss," someone yelled to you. You turned your head to see Marco - a heavy man with an equally heavy Yorkshire accent. He surely looked intimidating even without the rifle he was holding. "National Guard knows about the lockdown. ETA 6 minutes."

"Get the napalm, Marco. I want this to look like an inside job."

"Yes, ma'am." Without exchanging spare words, Marco walked past you and gathered some people carrying metal canisters to set the building on fire.

"Rapture 2, the fire is on the way. Be on standby," you said on the radio before getting into the helicopter.

"Roger that. Rapture 2 moving to the rendezvous point."

Before sitting down, you leaned towards the pilot and grabbed his shoulder to get his attention:

"Get us out of here."

You sat on a bench across from the fresh runaways. Now that you were nearly brushing your knees against a serial killer and a mass murderer, hundreds of feet above the ground, a sting of anxiety appeared in your chest.

"We'll play nice, princess peach," Joker speaks up. He must have noticed your sudden uneasiness or perhaps suspected it and decided to try his luck. "Maybe."

"I'm not worried," you lied. Years of working for the worst people on this side of the globe taught you a thing or two about excellent acting. "I believe you two have enough problems without the big fish coming after you."

The believable lie got a laugh out of Joker. Out of the three of you, he seemed to be the only one actually having fun.

"You know, I'm quite surprised, princess peach," he continued. "Your plan worked so far."

"Of course it did, darling. They don't call me Archangel for pretty eyes."

Joker cackled again and nodded to himself. He was familiar with that name. For better or worse, you knew right then that he wasn't going to let go that easily.

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madwomansapologist · 1 year

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fan behavior | Edward Nigma

Masterlist | Taglist | Library | More Edward Nigma | AO3

synopsis: When the Riddler send you a letter, you thought that the day of your death was near. How could you be so wrong about someone?

warnings: Arkham. he is kinda of obssessed. its fluff. convos about murder, death and violence. i swear its fluff. you will understand this later: i love poems and you can do nothing about it.

People believe that to live in Gotham is to live with fear. You once was like that. Thinking about every possibility. It was like drowning in a shallow lake. All that panic, and for nothing. Every person you did suspect, every siuation you did overthink, every sound that scared you: you were waiting for danger, prepared for it, but it never came.

Everyone shall die, all those news channels make sure that no one could forget that, but you don't know how it will happen. When. You may die because Joker didn't like your face, but you also could die because your heart couldn't take it any longer. Or you could die when you're so old that people won't even say that it was unfair, but that you needed to rest.

You were sick of living with fear. Sick of not living because of fear. Of making yourself smaller, quieter, to fit into spaces that you don't want to fit in. So you changed. You decided to be honest with your soul, and to respect that deal. You decided to live.

So you wrote a book. Not your first, not even close, but the first that wasn't fiction. A non-fiction novel about how a violent and corrupted city could kill the soul of their citizens. You told the stories that mainstream media was affraid to. About students, widowers, orphans, homeless, survivors. The stories about fear, and grief, and trauma, and hope. About dreams and nightmares. About finding your strength and losing it. About deciding life wasn't worth or finding out that it was.

And it was a best-seller. Awarded. It was... Damn. You had a good career, writing mostly romances and a little bit of fantasy, but not that good. Money, interviews, awards. You had authors you idolize saying things like "brutally frank", "a milestone of her maturity as a story teller", "disciple of Truman Capote".

It was your peak. It really was. It was everything you ever dreamed about it. You didn't need a parallel job anymore, you could just write. If it was the end of your story it would be perfect. But you didn't want it to be the end. So you tried to find a new ideia. Something that could comunicate with your soul. Something you really wanted to write.

Coming back home after a meeting with your editor and your agent, the train stopped in between stations and you made home just late a night. Gotham, right? You were scheduled to give another interview. Its a big channel, so they were preparing you for some questions that could be made.

In front of your door step you found something different. Something interesting. Its been long gone the time were writers received letters. Now, its emails. But it happened for you to receive letters at your home or at your company some few times, maybe less then five. But now you weren't facing just a letter. It was a really big emerald box, with a scarlet envelope adressed to you.

You were so naive to though it would be just a gift. You really did think it could be something from the TV show you gonna be interviewed. So, without thinking twice about it, you held the heavy box and entered your home with a bright smile.

You couldn't imagine that, but people would make sure he knew you had smiled.

First things first: you put everything on your table and prepared a hot bath. You needed that bath. That moment of relaxation. Everyone deserves that after dealing with Gotham. Smelling like roses, you wrapped yourself in a towel and went to find something to eat. You could hear your grandma screaming at you for opening the refrigerator wearing just a towel, but you were starving.

Devouring a piece of your favorite cake, you remembered about the box on your table. You took the scarlet envelope. Using a knife, you opened it.

My dearest writer,

When I overflow with words I don't have

When the candle that heat my heart starts to erase

And I ask myself in which mirror did my face get lost

I discover that lost in your words the summer is eternal

You are my North, my South, my East and my West

And because of you my madness is divinest sense

Your smile was so big. It was... so sweet. So considerate. No other channel had done something so lovely for you. This is not just a poem. With just one look you can see that those verses are references to books and poems you loved. They even saw your interviews talking about your inspirations!

The first line was a Faulkner reference. The second: Tolstoi and his wonderful Ana Karenina. Then a little bit of brazillian literature with Cecília Meireles on the third line. A clear reference to Shakespeare on the fourth. The next was a snippet of your favourite poem: Funeral Blues. And the last one, you had to think about before coming to a conclusion, was Emily Dickinson.

Smiling like a teenager, you go after the box. It was so heavy, you keep wondering what is inside it. Carefully, you put the envelope on your table and opened the emerald box. And it was... a vault. A black one, with digits to put a password. It was like in the movies, but the difference is that the keyboard has letters on it.

Looking at the open flap of the box, you noticed a yellow post-it.

First things first. It can't be that difficult, can it?

Laughting to yourself you agreed with a head movement, even tho no one was there to look at you. Of course you didn't know that a camera was recording it on the other side of the street, so that wasn't a lie. Just a silly little mistake.

First things first.

You wrote William Faulkner on the keyboard and hoped it would work. With a little click, the vault opened. And inside of it, you found another vault. Smaller this time. You quickly realized what you need do to. So you keep writing the name of the next writer, getting an even smaller vault, until the very last line of the poem dedicated to you.

When the name of Emily Dickinson was wrote, you didn't knew what to expect. Another click, the vault was now open, and inside it you found... another envelope? This was as emerald as the box. You took the letter inside it.

Arkham Asylum, Intensive Treatment Center, Cell 140D. Tomorrow.

And as easy as it came, your smile faded away. You should've know better. A emerald package. How did you not look at it and immediately notice it was made by the Riddler. "Oh, fuck."

What have you done? Did you say something about him during a interview? No. No, you didn't. What could make you a target? What you did wrong? What will he do with you?

You analyzed every vault. You must had missed something. Shouldn't his riddlers have a punishment for those who don't know the asnwers? But they were just vaults. You took his letters, looking for any subtle threat that you didn't notice before.

Why the first envelope was red? It didn't make sense. His color is green. Everything is green when it comes about him. But reading the letters again... they sound affectionate. Even now knowing that he was the one that made it, it don't seen like a threat.

He called you his dearest writer. The first few verses formed the image of someone who is not in a great moment in live. Someone that is losing hope, who can't recognize himself, who can't even put it into words. And then, this person find peace. Someone whos summer is eternal. His personal compass. Someone who made his madness seen divinest.

If he wanted to threatened you, shouldn't he write about bad things? Or even just put a bomb inside one of the vaults. And why he want to see you? But deep inside you knew that he was the only one that could asnwer those questions. The only question you should be worrying about was: will you go?

And could just stay at home. You could have purchased a one-way ticked to Metropolis. You could have run to Commissioner Gordon and beged him to call Batman. You could have done a lot of things.

But fear and curiosity would eat you whole.

You never been in Arkham before. You saw it on television, but this was way different than you could've imagined. Outside, it seen like a hauting mansion. If a ghost came from it, you wouldn't have blink an eye. But inside it... it was even worse.

Not hanted: it was inhuman. Lifeless. No one could live in a place so dark, and visceral, and threatning. You heard laughs when the guards took you to the maximum security area. You don't think someone could experience something worth a laugh on a place like this.

"Don't touch him." One of the guards told you before opening the last door. "Don't give him anything. You can get out of there anytime you want. Scream if you need help."

Glaring at the last thing between you and he, you breath in and nodded. When you entered the room, you took a few second to get used to the light. It was a white room, with a tiny white bed, white sheets and white chairs. You would go crazy with you had to stay a day there.

And chained to his bed, Riddler admired every move you made. Almost embarrased by his powerful presence, you made your way to the white chair. You couldn't do this while standing. It was weird to see him without a mask. It felt wrong. But you couldn't help but to analyze every single feature of his face. Riddler look like a normal guy. Like someone you could see at the bus stop.

"Here you are." His voice alone gave you goosebumps. "I started to think you wouldn't come over."

The sunset was a few hours ago. You recorded the interview, but all the time you were thinking about what would happen when you were in front of him. "You invited me."

"Invited?" Riddler smiled. He rubbed his tights, it was like he would start laughing just like the crazy guy you heard on the corridor. "Yes, I did. My manners: welcome to my temporary house."

"Temporary?" The smartest thing you could do was to act nice. Maybe he would put you on his good side and decided not to do anything with you. His others victims didn't have a chance to talk to him before they were murdered. But if he wants to kill, he will. Nothing you could do would change that. This probably is just a game to him. So he better be prepared because you ain't going to be scared. Never again. "You killed the major. This is your forever-home."

"That was mean," his smile didn't fade away, it just got bigger. Even his voice changed. It was almost a purr. He liked the way you talked to him? It appears like he did. "Are you scared of me? Thats why you think that I should be there until the day I die?"

"I am not scared of you. I am angry." You crossed your arms. "Why am I here? And don't say that I am here because I was invited. Why you want me here?"

Riddler was in silence for a few minutes. Not smiling anymore, he didn't even look at you. "30 seconds."

"What?"

"Thats what took you to solve my riddle." He told you. "You were smiling the whole time. Glowing. You were glowing the whole time. I could see in your eyes: the moment you read the poem you knew what it really means. Did you have fun?"

"I... did." What was going on? Why was he acting sad? "You saw me?"

"You getting home, so stressed and tired, and your smile when you found my gift. You hold it so gently. You solving it so easily, drops of water running down your body... It was a divine vision. Are you a god, by the way?"

You could felt your cheeks burning. You were only using a towel and he was seeing you. No. Not him. He is there, right in front of you, so it must have beeing one of his fans. They recorded you to show to him?

"Are you really angry with me?" He pout. "You had fun, didn't you?"

"You threatened me." Now you were uncertain of that. "You demanded me to see you today. You were spying on me."

"Threatened you? I could never do that!" He really sounded offended. "It was a gift. I spend so much time making something you would love. I watched all your interviews. Read all your favourite books. I even know your favourite color is scarlet. The color of passion. It was gift. And a invitation. And I wasn't spying on you. I was just seeing your reaction."

Now you couldn't put any words together. What does that... What does that even mean? "You won't kill me?"

"No!" Riddler punch his bed. "Oh... the things they say about writers is true. They won't understand you love them even after a love letter."

"What?" You gasped. "Love letter?"

"My dearest writer. When I overflow with words I don't have. When the candle that heat my heart starts to erase. And I ask myself in which mirror did my face get lost. I discover that lost in your words the summer is eternal. You are my North, my South, my East and my West. And because of you my madness is divinest sense."

So... you were right about it. There were nothing threatening about the letter. It all sounded so romantic when he chanted. So pure. "You... love me?"

"Most ardently."

"Jane Austen." You recognized without missing a bet. "Its another riddle?"

"No." Suddenly, he was standing. He wasn't chained anymore, they all fall to the floor. Riddler smiled. "It is a confession."

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

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@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

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writingsofmax · 1 year

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Disarm pt. 23

Words: 1.8 K

Summary: Y/N finds herself in trouble and Edward goes to save her. Warnings: gun violence, shooting in a public place, general canon-typical violence, puking, graphic depictions of illness

Tags: angst, violence, kidnappin Author's note: self conscious about this chapter because I am not an action writer but I did my best. writing this was like pulling teeth. sorry for the long wait everyone. ALSO as always, a very special thank you to @e-moneyyy for helping me with some of the writing in this chapter!!!!! i would die without her

ALSO: this is the penultimate chapter of disarm so Thankyou to everyone who’s been reading this

Chapter 23- Bullet With Butterfly Wings

“She has medical problems with her heart.”

Y/N was nauseous. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest and her head pounded as she opened her eyes. She couldn’t get a read on her surroundings as each shape and object in the room bled into the next. It registered that people were talking but she could only make out some of what they were saying. “You gave her what!? Oh Jesus Christ, you—” the words fuzzed out again as she struggled to gain her bearings,”--she might die before he even gets here.” Another man answered, but she was unable to understand it. She realized dully after a moment that she couldn’t move, her ankles were tied and her arms were restricted behind her back. She was seated against the wall of a large room, the bricks cold against her back.

She coughed and slumped down on the floor, drool running in rivulets out of her mouth. I’m gonna puke. “You alright, sweetheart?” A voice asked. She couldn’t bring herself to answer and just watched from the ground as a pair of clean, black leather shoes approached her. They stopped a foot away from her face, before the person wearing them crouched down. I’m gonna die here. “Come on.” The voice said, as hands grabbed her shoulders and propped her back up against the wall, “Up you go.” As her vision came back into focus, she looked at his face. Carmine Falcone. This is bad. Another voice from across the room asked, “Are you sure that this guy that’s coming is… safe? What if he tries something?” I’m gonna die here. Falcone stopped inspecting her for a second to turn and answer, “I’m certain we’ll lose a few men, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“I’m sorry about all of this unpleasantness,” Falcone apologized, turning his attention back to her, “Here. Let’s get you out of these ropes, huh?” He said, slowly untying her restraints. “Get that circulation going a little better.”

She just nodded dumbly at him, unable to move or talk. Waves of nausea ripped through her as her body shook. Even with her ankles untied, there was no way she could stand. She realized as he undid the ties on her arms, that she could barely move those either.

I’m gonna die here. Another man approached Falcone, handing him a blanket, which he then laid on top of Y/N. “Lose a few men?” The man asked. “Well he is an emotionally unstable guy.” Falcone replied. She wondered if it would be better to just give up completely. She could just ask Falcone to kill her. Like most Gothamites, she knew how gangs operated and knew that Falcone had no intention of letting her leave alive. She took a deep heaving breath, but oxygen wasn’t making it to her lungs. Move. Get up. She tried, but her limbs had turned to stone. This useless body. Always letting me down.

She was going to die here and her life hadn’t meant much of anything. She had spent years feeling like she was dead already. Life was something everyone else got to have, but not her. Her days were filled with pain and fatigue, spending days in bed, and being a burden for everyone else to worry about. That could be over if she just let it. A wave of nausea ripped through her then, causing her to empty the contents of her stomach onto the concrete floor. Shit.

The group of men considered her for a moment, while Falcone snapped his fingers at them.

“Clean that up before he gets here.”

He…? She wondered as one of the men came over with a rag. He gets here…Oh… She winced as she tried to focus her eyes, but the room kept spinning. Eddie… he means Eddie..

Edward. She wanted him to come— to be able to see him one last time before the end, but then he would die too. Falcone would kill him. Falcone must have figured it out…She cursed herself. She had known this was going to end badly from the beginning, but hadn’t put a stop to any of it. Too late now. She wasn’t going to try to run, she was far too weak for that anyway. Besides, what chance would she have against a mob boss and his goons? Her entire body ached. She laid down on the concrete, pulling the blanket under her head just to rest her eyes. It won’t be long now. Won’t be long at all until he kills me. Strangely, she felt relieved at that. There wasn’t much to miss in her life, she had been alone and at odds with the world these last couple of years. Well maybe not alone. Eddie had been there towards the end. But what had she done except worry him every day? He didn’t need to live his life caring for her. Thinking of his face caused her pain.

I am not the bright and beautiful girl you say I am, Eddie. She didn’t want to continue being a millstone around his neck.

In fact, he was probably going to die now because of her. Just another person caught in the black hole of her life. And still, she wanted to see him. Before Eddie, everything had been so lifeless. She had been living the same day every day, but then she ran into him that night. On that night, she had thought she was going to die, but for some reason she had chosen to live. She fought for her life by running away even when it felt like her lungs were gonna give out. And that choice she had made, the choice to stay alive, led her to Edward. Eddie opening the car door, the street lights reflecting off of his glasses. Eddie’s hands that had not touched her yet, but would, on the steering wheel. Before they had known each other. How her life had changed since then. So are you gonna die here? A little voice inside of her asked. Or are you gonna get up?Is your life over? Are you gonna die here? Moments with Edward flitted through her mind. Curled up on the couch with him on a lazy weekend afternoon, Eddie reading to her in bed. Getting food at the diner with him when she was feeling well enough to. Autumn walks through the park with their hands intertwined. That electric feeling at the estate sale when he had grabbed her hand for the first time, but not the last.

Is your life over? Are you gonna die here? Memories of kissing him, touching him. The long conversations they would have about anything. They were small things, maybe even silly things to most people, but to her it was a life.

Is your life over?

She couldn’t go for a walk with him whenever she wanted. She couldn’t even be a person that got out of bed every day. She hated those things about herself. She wanted to be normal. But even though she wasn’t, her life had started to become enjoyable again despite it. It was the little things that made her heart rebel against the thought of not seeing him again. Are little things enough to make a life out of?

Are you going to die here?

Isn’t that all anyone’s life is? A collection of moments big and small that you create meaning from? Get up. Falcone hadn’t left her tied up. The two other men had left. It was just her and him in the room. He had a gun at his side. Get up.

—————?————— Edward was outside of the iceberg lounge right on time.

He knocked on the large metal door covered in graffiti and stickers and it swung open.

“Password?” A large man asked, having to yell over the sound of the deafening music coming from within the club. Edward laughed, “I have a question for you, actually!”

The man behind the door wasn’t amused, “Just give me the password or stay outside.”

He looked Edward up and down, taking in the coat and mask, “Freak.” he added.

Edward, who could care less about his comments, continued, “Here’s the question!” he chirped, “Who stole my girlfriend and has a hole in their head?”

“Um–”

BANG. A gunshot rang out startling those in the back of the club, closest to the doors.

“YOU, silly!” Edward exclaimed as the doorman dropped dead on the ground. Patrons were yelling and scrambling away from the door. Not everyone in the club had seen or heard because the music was deafening. However, he knew that as those in the back continued to scream, panic, and push forward against the crowd to get away, it would become chaos. He was going to use that to his advantage.

He slipped in between waves of the crowd as he made it to the stairway at the side of the cavernous room. The music reverberated through his bones and the overwhelming rainbow lights washed over him continuously, but he didn’t care.

Looking up the stairs, he saw the elevator that would take him to where she was being held. In the back of his mind he noticed that the screams from the bottom floor were getting louder, as more people discovered the body. Taking up his attention currently was a gang member standing at the top of the stairs.

For a brief moment the two of them locked eyes before Edward reached into his coat pocket.

BANG Reaching the top of the stairs, Edward stepped over his body as more people fled.

Elevator. People were pushing past him now, as he made his way up the stairs. As he reached the top of the landing he focused on the elevator doors only a few steps away. As he approached, the doors slid open with three more men waiting inside.

BANG BANG BANG

As he stepped inside the elevator he noticed with irritation that the doors wouldn’t close fully. With a sigh, he kicked the offending body out of the way, letting the other two bodies ride the elevator with him. He was almost to where she was.

He reloaded his gun as he traveled up to the top floor, muttering to himself, “The man who invented it doesn’t want it for himself, The man who bought it doesn’t need it for himself, The man who needs it, doesn’t know it when he needs it, what am I?”

He held his gun at the doors, ready to kill anyone who was standing there, and sure enough, two more men were there, but he was ready.

Stepping over their bodies a few moments later, he giggled, “The answer is a COFFIN!” he exclaimed, kicking one of them, “COME ON, the answer is so EASY!” he laughed as he advanced down the hallway.

BANGHe stiffened at the sound of a gunshot from the room at the end of the hallway.

No. I’m not too late, I’m–He ran down the hallway, bursting through the doors, gun ready and–

“Eddie…?”

He was greeted by her shaky voice, and there she was. In one piece. She was holding a gun with both hands, her entire body shaking.

At her feet Falcone lay dead.

#disarm fic #the riddler fanfiction #riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler x y/n #edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x you #edward nashton x y/n #the riddler x reader #the riddler x you #the riddler x y/n #edward nashton fanfiction #riddler angst #danonation #danocel

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