#the riddler fanfic

[finniestoncrane]

Can you do a oneshot of Arkham Knight Riddler eating reader out? He needs to eat. And I need a dirty, greasy, disgusting man to violate me with his tongue. I want his to have to wipe the cum and drool as it dribbles down his chin. Absolutely NASTY!

Snack

Arkham!Riddler x Fem!Reader, word count: 450 just a lil oneshot, just a lil snack u-u listen i've done it before and i'll do it again lmao if there's one thin i won't get tired of it's eddie eating pussy!! also it's fem!reader but there's no gendered language, so anyone with a vagina who doesn't mind the word pussy should be all good request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, a bit of fingering, mentions of overstim

Eddie rolled his tongue, almost wave like, making the muscle pulse and curve from the back to the tip against your dripping cunt. Each lap made you wail, your fingers curled into his hair, tugging at the root as you pushed him to you and pulled him away when you could feel yourself getting too close to your inevitable orgasm.

From the moment he'd fallen to his knees in front of you, you had been close. Desperate. Wet. You could feel your clit twitching as he pulled off your pants, then your underwear. Feel your inside aching as he lifted your legs up and placed them on his deceptively strong shoulders. Let your jaw drop, a howling wail coming out of your open mouth as he used his thumbs to spread your lips apart.

Now, you were soaking, your entire body throbbing, muscles tensing as they waited for your release. Eddie worked at it, his thin lips circling your clit as he inserted a finger inside of you, another joining it quickly after. The way he spread you open, devouring you as though he were actually starving made your heart pound, your stomach flip, your vision going blurry as you got closer to the edge of the intense climax that felt as though it choked you.

You were clouded by your orgasm, brain fogged with only the notion of seeking pleasure coming into focus, but you still stole a look down towards Eddie. As though he sensed you watching him, he looked up towards you, steely blue eyes glinting with his malicious glee. He removed his fingers from you, using the back of the same hand to wipe his chin which was slick with your cum, dripping with his own drool.

Every second he spent away from you was agonising, threatening to dull the release that had been building up. But you felt his sharp nose come into contact with your once again, his stubbled cheeks between your thighs, dark brown hair tickling your skin as he dove back in, pressing his tongue in and out of you, moaning as he fucked you with his mouth.

With a sharp squeal you came, quivering under his continued touch, overstimulated almost immediately after your body settled back down. But Eddie kept going, chuckling to himself, not quite satisfied and certain you had more to give him. He pulled away briefly, only long enough to reassure you in a cruel, teasing tone that felt like he was purposefully mocking your pathetic desperation.

"If you want me to stop, you only have to ask. 'Please, Mister Nigma, Sir. I've had enough.' Say it loud and clear."

He only offered you the out as he was confident you wouldn't take it, smiling smugly to himself as you grabbed him by his hair and pushed him back into you.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Bestie- u didn’t just deliver u served and I’m the greedy gremlin who’s eating this up, that was amazing, he’s so skrunkly I love him 😔Ur gonna kill me here but bestie I need them to meet I can’t 😩

This is the effect of me doing sudokus and crosswords in the ethics lecture... Was listening to Jasmine Thompson's cover of 'Rather Be' while writing this and honestly?? A whole mood

Imagine the Riddler being your secret admirer. - Part 3

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Part 5]

That day felt weirdly long as if hours were stretching out as much as the universe would allow them to. You haven't felt that tired and fed up in quite a while, dreaming about the soft comfort of your own bed during your commute back home.

Home, however, had another surprise in store for you:

"Perfect timing, Eddie," you said to yourself as you tore the envelope off your front door. "Could use a little pick-me-up."

You opened the letter and couldn't help the surprise at the front of the card you were given. For some reason, it said "Invitation" in fancy, glittery writing. Inside, on the left side was another torn-out page from a poetry collection.

Underneath an apple-tree Sat a maiden and her lover; And the thoughts within her he Yearned, in silence, to discover.

Under the piece of a poem were written only two words: "Meet me". Your gaze followed the vague message to the right side of the card where a small map was drawn. It looked like a bird's view of a restaurant or a bar with a question mark drawn over one of the, as you had assumed, tables like the little map was the continuation of the unfinished sentence. On top of the drawing was scribbled an address, a date and an hour. You were supposed to meet him in a week's time.

From that moment on, you could hardly think about anything else and, little did you know, so did he. It was going to be a fateful Wednesday evening.

"That's the place," you whispered to yourself as you checked the GPS on your phone again.

You found yourself standing before a desolate diner that looked like it was taken straight out of Quentin Tarantino's movie. But you had to admit that the Pulp Fiction feel to the locale was charming in some way as if gracefully continuing your dilemma whether you were now the main character of a rom-com or a slash horror film.

"Here goes nothing," you said with a sigh. With each step towards the front door of the diner, your restlessness was only increasing.

The bell near the door chimed cheerfully as you hesitantly entered the building. At first, you couldn't see a soul inside - even the waitress was more of a cryptid as you could only hear her quiet chatter with the cooks coming from the kitchen. They left the door slightly ajar. According to the drawing, the marked table should be the one under the vintage-style graffiti with a pin-up girl holding a tray of apple pie. Your heart stopped for a moment, seeing that the booth was occupied.

Ever since he sat down in that booth, he'd been eyeing the door, waiting for the fateful moment you enter. The muffled laughter of the waitress rung in his ears and Eddie was half-convinced that she was laughing at him. After all, who was he to ever believe that you were actually going to show up? That you would be anything but disgusted with him?

He watched as you checked his little drawing once more. You turned your head towards him and Ed could swear the time actually slowed down if not entirely stopped when your gaze met his. The moment you realized that it was him, a bright smile appeared on your face, making Eddie's palms even sweatier than they already were. He just knew he was going to mess things up - there was no way in Hell that he could impress you. That much was obvious to Eddie.

You were just so... unreal to him. There he was: the loser, the loner, the butt of the joke and there were you, the epitome of grace approaching the table he was sitting at. He couldn't believe his own senses, some anxious beast still gnawing at his thoughts, that you didn't immediately turn around and left once you saw him.

"Hey," you said softly as you sat down across from him.

"H-hi," he nervously stuttered out.

Eddie looked more or less as you expected him to: a quiet, kind of awkward and easy-to-overlook guy who had no idea what he had gotten himself into. Your friends always found it very amusing that you had a thing for underdogs. No matter how strange it might sound to anyone else, you thought there was a certain charm to his awkwardness like an adorable deer caught in headlights.

"You have great taste." You waved the "invitation" card before putting it back into your purse.

"In what?" Eddie asked sheepishly. His mind was fluctuating between blankness and intrusive thoughts, so coherence and reason weren't something he could count on at the moment.

You shrugged. That bright, showstopping smile was still on your face and Eddie felt he wouldn't be able to look away from you even if he wanted to. "Poetry. Flowers," you counted. "Girls."

His chubby cheeks turned crimson red at your words. Your confidence made him even more aware of his incapacitating insecurity. Eddie believed his intrusive thoughts: there was nothing he could delight you with.

"I loved your riddles," you confessed. "You're really good at it."

A flutter of his heart and a ray of lovesick hope.

[marvelmaniac2000]

heyy could you do an edward nashton fic where him and the reader are long distance for whatever reason and she decides to send him a risqué photo 👀 then he sends one back and the magic happens from there

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Side notes: Omg YES! of course, Eddie will always be there for his girlfriend no matter what Words:  565

SORRY FOR MISSPELLING / GRAMMAR

 “Eddie baby, why the long face? It’s only going to be for a week” you and Eddie both stood by the edge of the airport hallway right before you headed toward the gates. To be quite honest Eddie didn’t like being in the wide open in public  but if that’s what it meant to keep you by his side he would do it  for now. 

 “I know but what am I supposed to do for the time being? I really don’t want to be alone at home without you. I’m practically going to starve to death without your cooking and everything else you do for us” You looked into his eyes and noticed him beginning to beg with those big puppy dogs eyes. 

 You puffed out a big sigh and realized he was trying to beg for you to stay like always. 

You slouch your bag to the ground and trailed your fingertips down his chest. Your nose brushed against his. His cheeks heated a bit as you pressed your lips against his. He moaned a bit, pulling you closer to deepen your body against his. 

“One more” you mumble before pecking his luscious lips again. Eddie smirked and his eyes watered just a tad bit.  “You promise to text me when you make it safely?” his finger wrapped around a stray piece of your hair. 

 “How about I send you something more for you?’ you smiled. 

“Like?” he blushed a bit and pushed the rim of his glasses up. 

 “You’ll see” you spun around on your heel and gathered your things. 

“Text me right away” his words could barely come out as you seductively came out of his grip. 

 “ I will honey.. You worry about Gotham city” you blew him a kiss and walked down into the terminal toward your flight. 

 After you landed to your destination you texted Eddie right away and hurried soon to your hotel room. 

   You smile at your phone and quickly rush to the hotel bathroom to take pic of yourself in a sexy matching bra and pantie set you had on under your clothes. You look at the pic that showed off your butt in a perfect angle with your lips pouted out. 

Eddie was stuck in his bedroom in silence with his eyes glued to his phone. He felt himself get harder looking at the picture of how perfect your butt looked. The arch of your back and the way your beautiful face looked inside the mirror. He couldn’t believe how much of a woman like you was his. 

 You walk over to your hotel bed and lay across with just an overnight shirt on. The picture he sent of his boxers showing his hardened member, made your lips water and moist between your legs looking at how rock hard he was for you.  

  You pressed your phone to your chest and tried not to resist how much you missed the size of him teasing your entrance. Your cheeks flushed a bit red thinking about touching yourself. 

Your hand slowly found it's way between your panties as you rubbed your wet slick folds. You buck your hips thinking about your sweet man touching you and hover over you. 

    Eddie looked puzzled at his phone screen wondering why you haven’t responded back yet. 

My Card

[2-guns-b1tch]

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."

[imagine--if]

Hiiiii <3 I was wondering if you still write for The Riddler? I've been binge reading all your work and I'm obsessed!

hey, tysm ♡ ̆̈ my requests aren’t open for him atm but they will be on paul dano’s birthday in june (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

but yeass i absolutely still write for the batman!

[unrestrainedbalderdash]

Riddler comforts you while you have period pain (platonically (or queerplatonically?))

Disclaimers:

I'm quite new to writing fanfiction, and I wrote this while dying of period pain, so it might not be the best writing, especially near the end

He's uncharacteristically nice I need comfort okay? (also there's only one riddle)

Allo people are free to interact but please be mindful that I am aroace and this isn't made for you

It's non-romantic and non-sexual but there is touching for comfort in the last third so if you're touch-averse when it comes to fanfiction then you might not like it

I am English, so there might be language differences if you're American (eg: pants is referring to underpants, not trousers)

NO TERFS.

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Swearing (F**k and B*tch), period pain, hurt/comfort, house break-in

Reader insert info: Vigilante, explicitly asexual (romanticism isn't addressed at all so they're implicitly aromantic but they don't have to be), AFAB (no gender revealed)

Word count: 938

The monthly sinking feeling hits you as you look down at your pants and finally see blood. You knew it was coming; you pre-emptively put a pad in there, but it still send a wave of misery through you as you let out a “fuck!” You stand up, wincing in pain, and pull them up along with your pyjama bottoms. You flush the toilet, watching it go just like your hopes and dreams for the next week. You leave the bathroom and trudge through your house, finally reaching the bedroom. You open the door, turn the light on, and freeze.

There is a man on your bed. He is looking at you, a smug smile on his face, posing with one leg outstretched and the other bent, forming a triangular hole between the two. He’s wearing his bright green spandex, covered in question marks. “Hello, vigilante,” the Riddler says. “Oh fuck off!” you say, the pain making you slightly hunched over. The smile turns into a little look of shock before he regains his composure. “…well, aren’t you foul-mouthed today? What’s wrong? Scared, knowing that I, the Riddler, Prince of Puzzles knows your secret identity?” he says, beaming. He looks into your eyes, and sees the tears. “Are you okay, vigilante?” You are now hunched over a lot more. “Move,” you reply. He is taken aback. “Well, you’re being a bit rude to such an esteemed guest, aren’t you?” he retorts, but still shuffling over and bringing his legs in. You lurch toward the bed, practically collapsing on it. “Get the fuck off my bed. Now.” “…you’re being uncharacteristically rude. Is it something I said? Is it the fact I deduced your identity with my genius mind and broke into your house?” he responds, staring at you. “I’m fucking dying right now, get out.” “Huh? D… dying? Whatever makes you say that?! You’re not doing your vigilante things this week! Did… could someone else possibly have-” “Werewolf moment.” He pauses. “Oh. You mean, uh… I am a river of red, containing unused life, if you wanted to be bred, then seeing this causes strife?” “How the fuck should I know what that means? Bitch I am fucking bleeding right now please shut up just for one second,” you say, curled up on your bed, crying. There is silence, then you can feel him stand up and get off the bed. You drag yourself toward the pillow, and curl up on it. You can feel his weight on the other end of the bed, sitting a respectful distance away from you. “Is this why you always disappear for two weeks?” “Yeah.” There is a pause. You glance up, and see him on his phone, with his green phone case covered in dorky purple question marks. “You better not be taking any bloody pictures,” you say, grimacing. “I already have the ultimate blackmail. I’m not that cruel. No, I’m simply searching for the methods of reducing period pain. Alright. Um… have you stopped smoking?” “Never even started it.” “Alright then. Uh… do you have a, um, a hot water bottle or something?” he asks, rocking backwards and forwards slightly. You point to the fluffy hot water bottle on your shelf. He walks over and picks it up. “I’ll go and fill this up, then,” he says, walking through your door. A couple of minutes pass in agony, and he returns, placing it on your tummy. It’s nice and warm. He also brought a bottle of water for drinking, and places it on your bedside cabinet. He sits on the edge of your bed again, scrolling for more suggestions. His eyes widen a little. He glances around, and sees your ace pride flag on the wall. “I’m definitely not doing… that…” he mumbles. He keeps scrolling, and glances at you, seeing you clutch the hot water bottle, your teeth gritted, curled up on the bed. He slowly shuffles closer to you as you make pained noises. He gently lays his hand on your shoulder. You let out a little whimper, in too much pain to show your gratitude. Right now, you can’t focus on the fact that he is your enemy, all you can think of is the intense pain, and the fact that he is helping you. “Why…” you murmur, trying to focus on his hand. “You’re the sweetest vigilante ever. Seeing you like this, in so much pain that you’ve been telling me to fuck off, is a little heartbreaking. I wish Batman was going through this. Not you,” he says, the mocking tone gone from his voice. He sounds sincere. He wipes the tears from your eyes, and you make little noises as his soft glove touches your face. He gives a little smile, and continues wiping the tears, letting you cry onto his purple glove. You’re making little screaming noises, and he wraps his arms around you, gently rocking you like a baby. “It’s okay… you’ve got the greatest genius ever with you…” he says, holding you close.

“I’m dying… I’m dying… fuck… I’m dying…” He puts one of his hands on your tummy, and gently rubs circles around it. You keep whimpering, but his hands are comforting. “Thank you… thank you…” you say weakly. He continues for a few more minutes, and the pain starts to die down. You make soft little noises, and he gently lays you on the bed again. He tucks you in, and you can feel tiredness fill you. He gives you a gentle pat on the head. “Sleep tight,” he says, as you close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

[wishfullyeternal]

Riddler x Reader- Kidnapped

Riddler x Reader- Kidnapped

Words- 1,198

Warnings- Heavy violence, dubcon elements, literal kidnapping (see title) language

A/N- Sorry for the big space randomly, formatting shit lol. I've been obsessed with The Riddler for a while now, and finally got around to writing something about him. Hopefully he sounds correct. Thinking about making this a dubcon smut kinda thing, but I wanna see how y'all like it first. Please comment if you'd like more! As always, requests are open and love you lovelies! <3

“I can smell the fear on you,” The Riddler started, drumming his fingers on the edge of his coat. “God, it’s so intoxicating…” He took a deep breath, chest swelling. The sound of his breathing was muffled by the mask, but you could tell he was coming closer to where you were. Wedged between an old washer and dryer in the abandoned warehouse on the edge of Gotham city. It wasn’t your first choice of hiding, but it was the closest. You breathed silently and tried to even it out as best as possible in order not to draw attention.

“What has twenty-one eyes… But cannot see.” The Riddler's voice is even closer and you can tell he is faced in your direction. His boots clack across the floor, his pace never changing. From where you were, you couldn’t tell how close he was, but there wasn’t any way he could find you. You were completely silent. “Come out come out wherever you are!” He laughed, high pitched voice reverberating throughout the warehouse. It’s becoming harder and harder to decipher where he is due to the amount of cortisol and adrenaline rushing through your veins. “You still have yet to solve my riddle dearest…” He trails off, and his footsteps begin to disappear. You move your head as quietly as you can, wanting to look above you and gain a sense of some of your surroundings. In a horrible twist of events, you accidentally let your foot slip, and the sound of rubber on metal echoes loudly throughout the entire space. The Riddler chuckles. “Oh dear, it seems you’ve made a grave mistake.” His footsteps come forward and pause before beginning to grunt and move the washer, revealing your coiled-up body in between. After scrambling to get up you try and escape from him, but his hand catches your jacket hood and slams you back into him, all of the wind knocked out of your lungs. “Right where you belong sweetie,” He says, quickly restraining your arms by placing a lanky hand over them. The other hand lands on your throat, tilting your head unnaturally up. Your back is pressed against him even though you are struggling so hard to get away. You kick at him, and he loses his grip for just a second. You take the opportunity to bite his arm hard and feel the flesh give way to your teeth. Blood pours into your mouth, warm and thick. He curses, yet digs his other hand underneath your collarbone, making you yelp in pain. He pulls his arm from your mouth, and pushed you roughly to the ground, again knocking the wind out of you. At this point, your breathing was never going to steady. Your chest was burning, and the thought of running away was fruitless.

“Oh yes,” The Riddler drew out his words, finding a perverse pleasure in your suffering. He pushes his boot onto your back, pinning you to the ground. You heard him rustle for something in his pocket, and when you try to get away from him, he only puts more weight on you. “A die!” You yell, The Riddler pauses and again laughs through his muffled mask. “I’m impressed, you are correct. A die has twenty-one faces, yet cannot see.” He seems almost disappointed, and further explains while loudly ripping large pieces of duct tape. He attaches one right above his wound, blood soaking through the army green fabric. At the same time, he roughly pins your wrists behind you, attaching an obscene amount of tape to keep them together. “Thank goodness you got the riddle, I really didn’t want to kill you.” Your breath hitched in your throat. If he didn’t want to kill you, why was he still restraining you? Why was he still so infatuated with you? “Now, let’s get you somewhere else, wouldn’t want to ruin a pretty face on a concrete floor…” You felt him smile, and lift you up by your wrists with little effort. The strain on your shoulders made you wince and take in a sharp breath. “I’m gonna do things to you, I wouldn’t do to a farm animal…” The Riddler's humble abode was most definitely humble. Sparse furniture, paired with little to no decorations. It seemed like a place where he would do nothing but sleep, and maybe plan out his devious plans. There was no sense of personality or uniqueness to the space, it simply existed. “Why am I here?” You asked, The Riddler ripped another piece of duct tape and slapped it onto your mouth, making sure that he could do it in the most painful way possible. He made sure to wipe his hands all over your face. The lingering smell of salty sweat on your face making you gag. You struggled again and your eyes were wide in fear. Sweat beaded at your forehead, slowly dripping down your face, loosening the tape. “Alright, let’s get down to business. I’ve been watching you for quite some time now, and you fascinate me.” He pointed his finger at you, gently tracing the edge of your jawline. You were forced to sit down on the cold floor, legs and wrists bound tightly by duct tape. “First of all,” He clapped his hands together softly and you could hear him smile through the mask. “I think you are one of the most interesting people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting” He sighed, almost sounding like a groan. “You are just, amazing!” He sounds like a kid on his birthday and seems very excited to get on with whatever he had in store. His voice cracked a little with how much excitement he had hidden behind it. You felt the sweat begin to loosen the tape on your face more, before finally moving around your lips to take it off. “What the fuck are you going to do to me?” It wasn’t loud, you didn’t want to make him angry. “You women are so easy, you always ask the same questions.” He turned away from you, rustling in a dark green bag and fumbling for something metal. “They say a woman threatened by a knife is less likely to try and escape than a woman threatened by a gun…” You shuddered, The Riddler pulling out a large hunting knife and aiming it at your throat. You pushed you head back against the wall, the Riddler making sure to keep his distance as close as physically possible. "You looked so confident before, what happened?" He asked, thrusting the edge of the knife to your neck. "Please don't kill me…" The whites of your eyes were showing and you tried to look around the find something, anything to defend yourself. "Oh god," He rolled his eyes, "Not this again-" He suddenly turned around and in one fluid motion hurled the knife at the drywall. The knife stuck perfectly straight. "I'll do anything… Just please let me live." The Riddler paused, putting a long finger to his chin. "Anything?" You nodded quickly. "Oh boy, will I have fun with you!" He clapped his hands together and jumped up, giddy like a school-kid.

[pegsontheregs]

Riddler x reader - Minors DNI

uhhhhh giving oral while the blorbo's driving :)

cw: oral, while driving, orgasm delay i guess, not beta read and written in like 30 minutes dont expect quality

~600 words, its short

“Babe whoa what’re doing!” The Riddler, or as you called him, Eddie, exclaimed. And that was a good question, what were you doing? Acting on inspiration is what it was. Unbuckling your seat belt and leaning over the console to suck him off sounded fun so that's exactly what you were going to do. If he wanted you to.

“I’m driving!” He hissed at you, both hands white knuckling the wheel. Despite his objections he opened his thighs a little wider for you, letting you settle on his lap.

“Do you actually want me to stop?”

“No, this is hot as fuck, but if I cum while driving I will crash the car.”

“Then I’ll make sure you don’t.” You patted his thigh reassuringly. A whine erupted from him in response.

You got to work, unzipping his fly and fishing out his half hard dick, leaving sloppy kisses up the shaft. Kitten licking at the tip, you swallowed any precum leaking out then slid half of him down your throat.

He groaned and jerked forward. His hand grabbed the back of your head to steady himself. When you started to move, the car filled with the sound of Eddie’s heavy breathing and whining.

“Fuck, fuck.” He breathed. You felt the car slow to a stop. He pushes you head down slightly when you try to raise it to look at him.

“Stoplight. Keep going.” You try not to grin as you continue your ministrations. Reaching your hand into his pants, you massage his balls. A few more seconds and the light was green, and he reluctantly started driving again. You were sure the other people in cars at the light probably saw you. The thrill sent a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck babe, I-“ You pinch at the base of his dick, and pause. Keeping him in your mouth as you hold off his orgasm. Just sitting, waiting, listening to him whine and beg.

“Please! Come on!” He’s pushing at your head again. But you pull off, sliding your fist up his dick agonizingly slow as you talk.

“You said if you cum we crash. So no.”

“Fuck this shit. I’m pulling over.”

“If you pull over, I’m stopping. If you want to finish you better get us home safely.” He stared at you, flicking his eyes to the road occasionally. His brain debating whether it’s worth sitting through this torture or better to pull over and just jerk himself off.

“Fine.” He said decisively, gripping the wheel tightly again. He’s not one to back down from a challenge, he tells himself, only a couple blocks to go this will be easy.

His resolve though was quick to crumble when you took him in your mouth again. He tried hard not to buck into you or let his eyes wander, fearful that he might cum on the spot if he looked. You could tell he was trying his hardest to stare out the window and drive without incident. A few more minutes and another botched orgasm later, he finally pulled into the parking for his safe house.

And no sooner did he grab your hair and fuck into you, moaning all the while. You tried to relax your throat for him and it didn’t take too much of his rutting before he was cumming down your throat with a loud groan. He let you up and you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Here I thought I was going to have to hold you off at least one more time before we got here. Good job Eddie!” You grinned, kissing his cheek then turning his head to kiss warmly at his lips.

“Fuck you.” He breathed heavily, still trying to catch his breath.

“If you want. You deserve it.”

[priceofblindeye]

TW: the following content will feature animal mistreatment, traumatic experiences such as starvation, drug usage, self harm, and injuries by animals. Reader discretion is advised.

This is my official request that you all stop trying to erase edwards trauma.

They were always better together than apart.

That was what Edward Nashton had taken note of when glaring through those heavy prescription lenses at the screaming vermin that stuck their noses through the bars of that cheap, old cage. The rodents, feeder rats that weren’t meant to last long in this world, had been looking at him in distress. There’s always a bigger fish, right? That’s how the saying went?

Edward was the fish.

He still had the markings. Keloid scarring littering his fingers, his knuckles. Mostly, near his fingernails. He’d still wake up with reeling screams, mind spinning because he still remembered the pain of those creatures eating into him. What could possibly be starving rats? Well, the orphanage had massive ceilings to serve as ideal nesting space, but it even have enough food to leave crumbs for the rats. Not anymore.

If the children were starving, what could there possibly be for a starving critter like rats? Nothing, except the idle bodies of warmth, covered sweat, so deep into sleep because their bodies were shutting down. Nothing.

Edward wasn’t the only one to suffer, and he was sure that if he’d not made the decision to burn down that orphanage, he wouldn’t have been the last.

He hated rats. 

Sometimes, he’d see one skittering its little claws and bolting across the ground of the alley just outside his work. It always sent him into a panic. He'd scratch at his skin, so lost in traumatic recallings that he's scratch his skin till he drew blood.

He’d see rats chewing at the dropheads that were so high they were nodding out. Edward once had been burdened by the aftermath of a bite. Weighed down by a fever, body aches, chills, and horrible swelling. He had nearly died from the infection because he hadn’t treated it well enough. No, he was too focused on the younger kids who were left with bleeding bites all over their tiny fingers to care about properly cleaning his own. Whenever he witnessed a senseless husk of a drophead with bloody fingers, he would know.

He was sure the dropheads would endure the same fate.

How something so small, and inconvenient can leave such an affect on humanity, it was only fitting that Edward made the connection between these rodents, and the men, and women who’d ruined his life. Greedy, no good scumbags who’d sabotaged all chances he’d have to have a decent life.

Yet, just like the fever, it wouldn’t be enough to kill him. He wouldn’t let it. This was his revenge.

“Two birds, one stone.” He hummed to himself, exhaling a laugh through his nose with tight lips lifting into a smile. His fingers fiddled with a syringe. His key to the golden gates. An important instrument for his master plan.

Edward couldn’t blame every rat. He’d never have been able to handle the Feeders without his girls. He'd taken to exposing himself to the creatures only a year ago, using a practice he had learned from the brief therapy sessions he'd had when he was younger. What was it again?

"Take it a step at a time." He'd done his own studies on the method. The more you intentionally trigger your traumas, the weaker its influence becomes. A book had further shared its secrets with Edward once he'd been yanked from his sessions by his insurance, or lack of.

He had remembered reading about how the brain mistakes the past mental wound as an ongoing struggle, and therefore continues to inflict pain over specific ties to a traumatic moment and put the body in fight or flight. It doesnt register that it's happened in the past and no longer is affecting the person. So exposing yourself, while it is mentally draining, does process it and eventually it is registered as a past issue.

Some things couldn't be processed. Else, Edward would have dealt with many other issues which seem to get a rise out of him. The only thing he could do was conquer this fear, and he was motivated by the devious plans he'd made.

Eds attention was drawn over to a better, more well done cage. This one, well..

“Echo..” he whispered, “Query.”

Two snouts popped out of one of his old shirts, which had been stuffed and adjusted to cater to two rats. One, albino, the other, gray hooded and curious. They were much older, well fed, and the wiggling noses showed they were familiar with the man. 

He’d very hesitantly undo the latch of their cage, and the two would stretch, yawn, and approach together. The sniff of his hand would earn some gentle scratches behind their ears. Then, he’d retract. The feeling of nausea was only subsided by the bruxing of their teeth. The display of joy had helped his fearful fight or flight response that he'd tried to suppress. He still had the tremors in his hands when he'd been in close contact with rats. The unconscious paranoia of these two turning on him suddenly had been flickering in and out. Some days, it was intense, others, it was dead.

Thanks to his girls, he can enact his perfectly poetic and morbid plans on the ones that deserve it. He didn't fall into a hyperventilating fit. He didn't scratch at his skin, or even see the memories of his time in the orphanage flashing across his eyes like a subways windows. Did that mean he wouldn't have flashbacks? Feel dread? No, they still very much burdened him. 

However, his girls taught him that rats were truly just stupid creatures, dependent on the citizens to survive. It played into his poetic, and overdramatic view of his role in the city.

To him, it told him that he was on the right path. That maybe things were going the right direction. Maybe, he was meant to do this. Maybe, he was meant to execute his plan. After all, the process of it was healing his wounds. He did not feel fear like he used to. He did not feel like a fish swimming upstream. He was making real, genuine progress.

The screams had pulled him from his thoughts, and he'd turned away from the girls to look over the cage again. Departing from Echo, and Query, he'd approached the Feeders once more.

They were starving.

It was time.

Edward slammed his hand into the cage and a few of the feeder rats fell off the bars from the impact. They scrambled away, and he couldn't help his cackling as he paced over to his desk. 

"Let's go and get you guys your last meal." He whispered, most directly to himself. 

It was kind of funny how he'd call them feeder rats. Feeder rats feeding on a rat. Poison tainting their tummies till they keel over and die. He'd thought over it as he left his apartment with his mask, and coat tucked into a bag which he'd sling over his shoulder.

Wounds were healed, that was certain, scars are forever. 

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (pt. 2)

—

Tw: N/A

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) - (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a beautiful morning. Somehow, against all odds, the sun was shining through the thick smog perpetually covering Gotham.

And Danny hated it.

He was in pain, he was exhausted, he was grieving, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least a week.

In an act of celestial mockery, the sun shone regardless.

After around twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep, Danny gave up and pried himself out of bed.

He stumbled through the hallway and into the living room, staring openly at every splash of color he saw in the small apartment. He hadn’t forgotten what color looked like in the time he was in the lab, but it was comforting to see.

Someone cleared their throat. Danny whipped his head around, eyes falling on a scrawny, gangly man sitting down in a worn armchair, hunched over a laptop. He was looking at him with a dull, bored expression.

Right. Scarecrow.

His escape.

The chase.

His mom.

“You look a lot less terrifying without the mask,” Danny blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call my normal appearance frightening,” Scarecrow hummed, focusing his attention back onto the laptop, “that’s what the costume is for, after all.”

“Oh.”

After a brief moment of excruciating silence, Scarecrow spoke.

“You any good with computers, Danny? Hacking, and all that?”

Danny jolted. Scarecrow needed his help with something! This was great! Now, he’d have more of a reason not to get rid of him!

“Oh, uh, yeah! Not as good as my friend Tucker, but I think I’m pretty good.”

“And you’re familiar with the GiW’s systems specifically,” Scarecrow continued, beckoning him over. Danny complied, shuffling over awkwardly. “Right?”

“Well, I guess? My friends and I got into their stuff a couple of times before they…”

“Wonderful,” Scarecrow said, standing up with a stretch. He shoved the laptop into Danny’s hands and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. “Then you can hack into their system and extract whatever files you can find.”

Danny stared at the man like he’d lost his mind. He looked back at him expectantly.

Danny sat down.

“Yeah, I-I can do that. Tuck and I built a back door into their system ages ago,” he said, checking the screen. It was clear that for all the skills that Scarecrow had, hacking was definitely not one of them. “But, uh, don’t you have someone else that usually does this sort of thing for you? Not that I’m complaining!”

Scarecrow scowled, and Danny felt his heart fall into his ass.

“Usually, I do,” Scarecrow huffed, “but I chose to leave my most recent job with the Penguin early, so now there’s no way that he or Eddie will help me with anything until I make it up to them somehow.”

“Oh,” Danny said.

He had no clue whatsoever who Eddie was.

Danny got to work quickly, hoping that if he ignored the gangly man, he would leave him be. Luckily, he did just that, leaving to go work on something in another room.

Danny checked the laptop’s security before continuing Scarecrow’s progress, making sure that the GiW wouldn’t be able to grab their location.

It was…threateningly good. Whoever Eddie was, he had somehow crammed the functionality of a top-of-the-line PC into a tiny, beat-up old laptop. It almost reminded Danny of Tucker and his terrifying competence with his PDA.

Tucker.

Amity park.

Home.

Danny snapped himself out of his thoughts, tabbing back into the application Scarecrow had up and began to work his magic.

He had near full access to the entire GiW database within half an hour.

Mumbling out a quick thank-you to Tucker, he called Scarecrow over to appraise his work.

“Fixed up some food for you while you worked,” the rogue said, handing him a bowl of oatmeal, taking the laptop into his lap as he did so, “didn’t know how well you could eat, considering you’re recovering from… surgery, so I decided to stay on the safe side.”

Danny had no clue what this guy’s deal was.

He definitely did not tear up at the first genuine thoughtfulness he encountered in weeks, and he did not look away as he ate so that Scarecrow couldn’t see his face.

At least Scarecrow was too focused on the laptop to notice or care.

Or, maybe, he was just mercifully ignoring him.

Either way, Danny ate slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. He allowed himself to absentmindedly look around the room for the first time, taking everything in.

It was strangely homey. The space was filled with warm browns and yellows, a few splashes of color on the wall in the form of (obviously gifted) paintings. There was a beat-up bookshelf against the wall, clearly second-hand, filled to the brim with psychology books. On every available surface there was a different colored candle, all at different stages of use, clearly collected over the course of years.

Danny knew that the man next to him was a crazed, murderous criminal, but his home was oddly reminiscent of Jazz.

He was not about to cry.

“Danny,” Scarecrow hummed, snapping him out of his spiraling, “can you explain this to me?”

He looked over. The rogue was pointing to a new report, seemingly posted only a few hours ago.

Nodding, he took the computer into his lap, pouring over the contents.

He read the report again.

And again.

And again.

Danny swore loudly, crumpling like a wet paper bag, head in his hands.

“What?”

“It’s…” he swore again, glancing back at the laptop, “they…since you became liminal from synthetic ectoplasm, when we’re within about 500 meters of one another, our ectoplasm signatures resonate, and they can’t track us with any of their technology.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“If we’re not that close to each other, they can track us down from anywhere in the world.”

Scarecrow went dead quiet. After what felt like the single longest minute of Danny’s life, he let out a truly exasperated sigh, slumping over in his seat.

“Yeah, me too,” Danny mumbled, utterly miserable.

“…I’ll have to move my plans back a little,” Scarecrow sighed, “I can’t drag an injured child with me when I attack the Gotham GiW base, you’ll just get in the way.”

“Oh come on,” Danny whined, “I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Batman brings kids with him to do dangerous stuff all the time, and he’s fine!”

“Might I remind you that the second Robin died violently,” Scarecrow snapped, “and that Batman most likely has more traumatic brain injuries than all of the Gotham rogues combined. That really isn’t the winning argument you think it is.”

Danny paused, trying to think up some way to win the argument. Then, he realized what he had ignored before.

“Wait, Scarecrow, you’re gonna attack the GiW?”

“That’s the plan,” he nodded, “and call me Dr. Crane. I’m only Scarecrow when I’m in the mask.”

But,” Danny sputtered, “Sca—uh, Dr. Crane—that’s insane! The weapons they’ve got- they’ll rip you apart!”

“Not my first time,” Crane said, making Danny wince. “Besides, I have plenty of experience avoiding gunfire. I’ll live.”

“You…” Danny was silent for a while, trying to think of something to say, “fine, but you have to take me with you wherever you go. As soon as they see either of us on their radars, they’ll hunt us down.”

Dr. Crane sighed.

“…Fine. I need some time to plan anyways. Now, you’re going to help me download these files, properly format them, and send them out.”

“…Why?”

“Well, some of the other rogues might appreciate the heads up, and I’d quite like them to be indebted to me. Besides, I still need to pay back the Penguin for ditching him, and he loves knowing things that other people don’t.”

Danny paused.

“That’s an awful idea, no offense. If any of the rogues know our weaknesses, they—”

“Danny, we’re censoring everything. The only things they need to know about are the GiW specifically, and any sort of laws surrounding them.”

Danny snorted.

“You care about laws now?”

“Yes, because if we get taken to Arkham, they’ll hand us off to the GiW the moment they ask, and it’ll be completely legal.”

Oh. Danny had honestly forgotten that Arkham was an option.

“…Ok. I’ll help you. Who are we telling?”

“I don’t think you really need to know,” Dr. Crane said, the faintest shadow of an amused look on his face, “but I’ll humor you for now. We’re sending the files out to the Penguin, Riddler, Poison Ivy via Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and Red Hood.”

Danny nodded. He could live with that.

“Alright, then let’s get to work.”

—

[shuichisweave]

costume party

riddler x (sort of bimbo) reader part one

halloween fic

suggestive

“Edward”

Oh dear god. Oh no. Oh fuck.

You did not call him Edward unless he had truly fucked up. What was it now? Had all of his plans of eventually letting you in on knowing who he truly was gone awry? He froze in place, unable to move or even look in your direction, as if he had been plastered down onto the cushion of the loveseat in your shared apartment. 

No. Impossible. It couldn’t be- he had done everything absolutely perfectly, everything falling into place just as it should have, slowly introducing the idea of him being more radicalized than he had let on when he first met you. It was going to be sublime. He realized that by now he had not responded to you for nearly a minute. Better late than never.

“Yes dear? Is everything alright?” He looked over his shoulder to see you behind him tapping your foot on the ground. Looking impatient, disappointed even. “Eddie, baby, what day is it?” His eyes swatted from you to the calendar on the fridge. October 26th. 

“Uhhhh… the twenty-sixth?” You softened your gaze slightly, realizing he had no clue how close the upcoming holiday was. “Eddie, we have a costume party coming up on the twenty-ninth of this month. There's only three days left counting today to get our shit together and put together some costumes. We’re going costume shopping today and that’s final” You turned back into your shared bedroom to get ready for shopping without another word. Edward let out a heavy sign he didn’t realize he had been keeping in.

-

The Halloween surplus store luckily wasn’t too bare bones for it being the end of October. A few shelves were sparingly stocked however most were full. Unfortunately for Eddie that just meant more for you to browse through and drag him into trying on. “Eddie, look at this! How cute! A playboy bunny costume! Isn’t it so pretty!” You showed him the vinyl wrapped costume package with a scantily clad woman with bunny ears on. He audibly gulped at the thought of having to share your presence with others while you wore that.

Even after having been together for over a year he still didn’t know how to respond to you in a situation like this. “It’s er- lovely sweetheart but don't you want these to be matching costumes? That means I’ll either have to be Hugh Hefner or a playboy bunny too, and I don’t know how I feel about having to wear that around some of your coworkers…” You took a moment to think on it, and placed the bagged costume back on its proper hook. “Good idea you’re so right! Plus Hugh Hefner is just ugh you know? I don’t want to think of you as a gross old guy” You went back to peruse some of the stocked costumes, taking your time to look through them carefully. “AHA! It’s so perfect, Eddie look! Look, look, look!” In your hands you held a skimpy little bo-peep costume, complete with thigh highs, a garter, and a baby pink shepherd's crook.

“So what do you think? Should I get it? That way you can be a cute little sheep and we’ll look perfect together! He nearly came in his work khakis at the thought of you, practically nude in that little get up and dragging him around the party like your sex slave. “Y-yes absolutely. I think you’ll look … so so pretty” You grinned and searched for a way to make him have a not too embarrassing sheep costume.

-

Finally making it home you squealed in delight at the thought of Ed seeing you in this costume and making his jaw drop to the floor. Although to him he just thought it was a shriek of happiness from finally having a cute outfit to wear for the party you would be holding. “Alright, I’m gonna go try it on! No peeking okay?” It was then that he realized it would have been a great idea to bug the bathroom, he would have made good use out of the pictures and videos that a hidden camera in there would produce. After a few minutes of hearing the sound of plastic bags and shuffling, the bathroom door opened and you appeared, donning the frilly costume. Your tits nearly spilled out the top of the corset top and the soft pink skirt left nothing to the imagination. You frowned slightly and said “Eddie? I’ve called your name three times by now. What do you think? Too much?” He nearly shouted “No! No no it’s perfect. Truly it’s perfect, you look perfect”

You strolled back over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so happy you like it Eddie, I absolutely adore it” You gently wrapped your arms over his shoulders, hanging off of him. “So now that I know how you feel about it- do you want to try it out?”

“Try it out? What do you mean?” He looked at you utterly confused. “C’mon Eddie baby” You said, taking him by the hand and pulling him towards your shared bedroom. 

“Oh!”

Oh.

[finniestoncrane]

To Use And Abuse

Dano!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 2k Part 2 Here! commission: eddie breaks into the apartment of his no.1 fan to test how much they love him 🐀💚 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: humiliation/degradation, dubcon if you consider the fact he broke in, public sex/streamed sex

The notification lit up your phone. You hadn’t quite been aware of how dark it had become around you as you stared blankly at your TV until the sudden flash temporarily blinded you. But you could forgive the brief headache it caused when you saw what the notification was for. The two words that were sure to make your evening, regardless of what the day had been like, what your plans were, or where you were when they flashed up on the screen.

Incoming Stream

Luckily, you weren’t exactly the most social these days. It was hard to keep up with friends, or even make any, in Gotham. And those that you could get close to were always the first ones to leave. If you were lucky. Otherwise, it was a never-ending succession of funerals, where you were so numbed by constant grief that it was impossible to cry. No friends, Gotham had taken them from you. But luckily, one man was seeking revenge on your behalf. On everyone’s behalf, actually.

Shifting from your sofa to the second-hand and cluttered desk in the corner of your studio apartment, you set yourself up on the kitchen chair that you used for work. You could feel your heart rate rising as you waited for your shitty laptop to come to life, the browser already opening on the login page for the stream you were so excited for. And after a few moments of darkness, there he was. Dimly lit, covered in his mask and glasses. Commanding your attention. The Riddler.

A moniker he had only come up with the week before, it suited him so well. Gotham’s newest vigilante, a man who worked in puzzles and hints, a man who was a problem solver, not one who created them.

Giddy with almost schoolgirl glee, you leaned your elbows on the desk, your chin in your hands, and sighed as you stared at the screen. You were enthralled by him. In love with him really, or whatever was closest to love that you could experience with a stranger through a monitor. So much so that you could picture yourself, filtered in rose hue, a delicate glissando playing from nowhere as you drew a heart around his face with your finger. It felt like a sickeningly sweet moment from a romcom each time you were graced with the honour of listening to one of his sermons. All you wanted was to offer him your adoration and praise.

So, as you did each week, you began to type your feelings into the chat.

Your sermons mean so much to me. You’re truly like a preacher. You speak the good word. There is no God, there is no Gotham, only The Riddler. I worship you. I want to praise you at your feet. You’re our saviour.

Was it overkill? Maybe. But you were desperate for his attention. And not once had he ever given it to you. Others had been given a shout out when they had something to input, but your zealous and continued support and love were overlooked. It was becoming disheartening, but you were far from giving up. If anything, it only made you want him more.

And you knew how ridiculous that was, but far be it from you to care. Not now, not after months of dedicated lust and desire. Even after the stream had ended, you stayed on the site, staring at the empty, black screen. You could make out your reflection. Pathetic, desperate, delusional maybe. Scrolling through the chat, you scowled at the accolades and compliments that were delivered to everyone but you over the course of the brief time that he had been on the screen.

Eventually, you decided to close the tab, instead reverting to your second favourite hobby of scouring through articles about him. His exploits, so much speculation about his identity and his meaning, his future and the potential behind him, comparisons between him and the Batman. So few pictures of him outside of some lazy screencaps. But you were happy to stare at them for hours. You had, in fact. By the time you looked at the clock at the bottom of the screen, two hours had passed.

Reaching up to stretch, mindful of your horrid posture, you were caught on the inhale of a yawn as two hands reached around you. One clamped your mouth, stifling a quick to form scream, the other pressed tight to your sternum, keeping you still.

“You’re shorter than I imagined. Exactly as pathetic as I thought though. Your living arrangements almost make mine seem pleasant.”

You recognised his voice instantly, your ears and brain immediately catching on, your heart following quickly behind as its pace quickened, blood pumping vigorously, pulse insane, breath shallow and ragged.

“Oh my god… is it really you?”

He let out a soft giggle, his fingers tensing where they held you.

“You tell me, sweetie.”

Letting go of you finally, he watched as you sank into the chair and fell to the floor, clumsily pulling yourself up to stand in front of him. You couldn’t tell what his expression was below the mask, but you could only imagine it was a cruel grin from the way his eyes lit up behind his glasses.

“How… How did you… my door was locked… There was no information on my account… Everything was behind so many layers of security.”

 “Oh-ho-ho! You silly thing. Did you not realise I’d find you?”

“How… How did-”

“Because I’m not a fucking idiot! That’s how. Did you really think you were protected by your pathetic security measures? That site was my kingdom!”

His voice flitted from the tones of anger to a lilting tune, as he delivered the next words in a taunting singsong, wagging his finger with the tempo of the tune.

“And I know everything that goes on in there.”

As you stuttered over confusion, trying to decide if you were more scared or more excited that the object of your obsessive desires was in front of you, he shook his head and sighed.

“Not quite the welcome I expected, a bit of a let-down like everything else in this world. I thought you said you wanted me here?”

He was stifling a giggle, his voice pitched high and strung with giddy glee.

“You do want me here, right? You weren’t lying? Because, heh…” the brief pause that he took to scoff, a derisive laughter that seemed to come from a place of sincere contempt, had you trembling slightly. Whether with anticipation, excitement or genuine terror you couldn’t be sure. Likely all three.

“…you know how I feel about liars!”

The sharp increase in volume was unexpected, but it was the way that he grabbed your waist and pushed you against the wall that made you choke on your breath. The gasp brought sharp and freezing cold air into your throat, not quite reaching your lungs. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, a deep heat spreading through your abdomen, a distinct throb in your clit as you fought the urge to toss your head back and beg him to take you there and then.

Staring back at him, his eyes glinting, the only part of his face you could make out, you bit at your lip. Hidden behind the thick material was a hidden stranger, someone you might never know. He could be anyone, and the thrill of mystery had you salivating. You instinctively leaned into it. He was so unpredictable, committed to danger. There was no telling how wrong this could go if you displayed your desire to submit to him. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“I-I’m not lying… I do want you here. I’m glad you’re here!”

Taking note of the tone in your voice, he felt his heart flutter. You weren’t lying, you were sincere. And you were his for the taking, as evidenced by how desperate you looked, how wide your pupils were, the way your chest heaved, back arching against the wall towards him.

“Then show me.”

His leather-gloved hands were on your shoulders, pushing you to your knees, and you followed easily putting up no fight. Once you were on the ground, you stared up at him expectantly, ready to obey his next command.

“Bow down then, worship me.”

As you slowly lowered yourself to the ground, you felt the sudden pressure of his weight between your shoulders. He pushed you down further, your chest and stomach flush with the ground, his heavy boot refusing to let up.

“Lick them.”

You looked up at him, expecting to meet his eye, the view blocked instead by his cell phone which pointed down at you. It was difficult to avoid the lens as it focused on you, recording your sudden flushed cheeks and trembling lip.

“Show them all how great you think I am. Lick my boots, that’s what you’re all about, huh?”

He watched you staying there, completely still, clearly in need of some more encouragement.

“Or are you suddenly so shy?”

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, straining his ear towards you, placing a hand behind it dramatically.

“Hm? I can’t hear you, little princess. Speak up. Or start licking.”

Still unsure of what to do, your mind telling you to hold off a moment longer, your body trying to follow his demands with foolish zeal, your hesitation brought out a softer side of him. With the camera of his phone still pointed directly at you, he lowered himself briefly to you. His gloved hand brushed your dark bangs away from your face briefly, his wide eyes fixed on yours as he thumbed your cheek. And his voice was surprisingly gentle and cooing, in contrast to the sickening words that it spoke.

“Don’t embarrass yourself in front of the stream. I’m sure they already think you’re a pathetic little slut, you don’t want them to think you’re an idiot too. Or are you? Are you just a stupid girl whose desperate cunt gets hot and wet and throbs at the first sign of a man who takes action?”

You could feel yourself nodding, agreeing with him despite your own morals and ethics shouting against it.

“Well, that’s good news then! Be the stupid little bitch you are and start. Licking. My. Boots.”

You looked directly into the lens of the camera before lowering yourself, determined to give them a show. Committed to letting everyone, not just the Riddler, know how keen you were to please him. And staring into his eyes, you pressed your tongue out, mouth wide and ready. And finally, you let the tip flick over the toe of his boots. A sensation he surely wouldn’t have felt through the thick material, but which made him throw his head back with a sigh regardless.

With a moan, you covered more of the surface area in your saliva, satisfied, body aching with want as you listened to his breath hitch. It stopped suddenly though, his head lowering back down to catch your eyes, his hand on the back of your head, pulling you up.

“See? That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. That’s a good, stupid, pathetic girl. And who do you worship? Who do you belong to?”

“You, sir.”

As you nodded, he mimicked you, his nods more frantic, almost cruel in the way he seemed to be mocking you. Soothing over your cheek with his hand before slapping it twice, you could see the edges of his mask shift as he smiled wide.

“What a good little bitch you are.”

Hooking his thumb over your bottom lip, he felt his chest hitch as you began sucking it. Clearly well trained, even if he had no part in it. There was a lot to you that he was keen to explore, physically and mentally. There was every chance that you would make the perfect subservient captive, a plaything to relieve his stress at the end of a busy day of his own brand of vigilante justice. His disgusting, pathetic slut. His to use and abuse. And you’d probably thank him for it. The thought of which sent a twitch through his cock, which had begun to harden the minute you had opened your whorish mouth and done exactly as he’d commanded. If only the rest of Gotham would bend to his will so easily.

[undiscovered-horizon]

No need to be sorry, I'm glad I can put a smile on someone's face. I wasn't planning on it originally (I'm a go-with-the-flow kind of person) but where there's demand, there's supply!🌺

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀 || Batman-inspired playlist

Imagine the Riddler being your secret admirer. - Part 5

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Life with Eddie was simple but not easy. On the one hand, it was utterly comfortable, yet you still kept on your toes because peace as it turns out is a fickle thing.

You quickly realized that the space surrounding him quite well represented his inside: 'vital mess'. Which meant chaos that only he could navigate. Trying to bring any kind of order to it would upset him in many cases as if there was some enigmatic, state-of-the-art feng shui that only he was privy to; every single object, even if seemingly misplaced, was placed in a position essential to the arrangement. So with time you grew used to the constant lack of undisputable cleanliness.

He wasn't as predictable as partners want to perceive each other. Sometimes all it took was a word or a single look to make him spiral into anguish and anger. The good thing was that Eddie wasn't inconsolable - just a little easier to start panicking than most people.

Eddie's been busy with some detailed, mechanical work for a few hours at that point. He wasn't exceptionally expansive, so he only murmured something about getting parts to finish his little project. You didn't think much about it and simply left him to do whatever it was that occupied him.

But he won't need the empty shipping box anymore, will he?

"No, don't!" Eddie's sudden exclamation caught you off guard and you instinctively flinch. "I'm sorry," he quickly apologised. "Just... please, don't move the box."

You let out a quiet sigh and moved your hand away from the cardboard. Turning to look at Eddie, you noticed him staring at you with a curiously worried expression like he was expecting you to be upset with him for some reason. He wore that look quite often.

"I love you," you said in a reassuring tone.

Eddie's eyes opened slightly wider and his eyebrows lifted. "You... don't think I'm a weirdo?"

"No, I do," you said as you shook your head slightly. Eddie's expression momentarily fell. "You're the weirdest and best person I've ever met."

For the first time in his life, being called 'weird' didn't feel like an insult.

_________ A/N: Dialogue is taken from @dinosandcomics on Instagram

@bluefairyangel

[marvelmaniac2000]

💚💚Eddie Nashton Fluff 💚

Summary: Eddie doesn’t like seeing his gf all dirty and worn out. Here’s some pure fluff of what he would do. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Subject: Fluff, Daddy kink, pet names, infantilism, obsession, headcanons, imagines, codependent, 

        Words: 505

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

  You were a few minutes away from passing out from work. Your feet almost formed knots in each of your toes. But it would all be worth it once you come home to the person who truly mattered the most. Warmth swept across your cheeks thinking about him. He was your everything through thick and thin. If there was anything you wanted and needed, He never seemed to disappoint. 

  Edward opened the apartment door before you could even turn the knob. 

“Finally it’s about time” he breathed out his mouth. The place you guys shared was so cozy and warm that no one would want to leave. Every piece of furniture matched with the color scheme to contrast the hardwood floor. The room smelled like lavender and smoked foods all around.

You clung your arms around his neck and kissed him passionately on his lips. Eddie hummed into the kiss while his hands ravished your sides. 

‘Did you have a good day at work?” He gave your waist a light squeeze before brushing a few strands of hair out of your face. 

 “I always do babe” you rested your chin on his chest wanting all of his attention. 

“Why don’t we take a bath together before you eat?” He pecked your forehead and led you to the bedroom.  

   You plop your bag down and slowly begin to strip while Eddie bun goes to run the bath water. 

You giggle a little realizing how tall he was. “I don’t think our tub can handle both of us Ed” you watch over him with just your bra and panties on while he feels the water. “Trust me baby I’ll make us fit” he gave you a once over with his eyes and turned the knob. 

Of course Eds going to have plenty of bubbles fill to the top and make sure the water is nice warm enough for you to stand 

He gently runs his fingers across your body and hooks his finger under your straps. Then he’ll unclip your bra while giving you the most sloppiest kiss ever

You fondle your fingers to eagerly get him naked too while he almost strip you bare

Endless moans escape your mouth while he leaves mini hickies near the crook of your neck and collar bone. 

He slowly helps you into the tub first before joining in with you. 

You lay your back up against him while he rubs your sweet clit in circular motions

He tells you about his day while he plays with your nipples and lather you up with more soap

You both just relax into each other and talk about random stuff 

Eventually you both wash up and step out of the water while he gives you a towel first before drying himself off. You notice how sexy he looks with his hair damp around his ears.

likes/comments/requests/asks are always welcomed!

much love <3

[2-guns-b1tch]

Talk to Me Masterlist

Rating: Explicit +18

Pairing: Arkham! Riddler x (F) Reader

Synopsis: 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 are the new therapist of Edward Nygma, aka the Riddler. You believe everybody deserves a second chance and your mission is to help Edward to become a better man. But there are some dark things happening at Arkham Asylum that will be brought out into the light and will change everything.

(Trigger warnings are listed in the beginning of each chapter)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

[imagine--if]

Your work is still so amazing. I jump and am on the edge of my seat every time I see that you posted.

I bought a new square pan and now I'm excited to make something, I love feeding people.

I was wondering, how would Eddie react if you could bake?

Homemade cinnamon rolls, cakes, cookies, especially pumpkin pie, etc. I'd like to feel like he'd be comforted by the smell of it. Maybe he'd try to help out?

It'd be fun to have a partner to talk with when you're waiting on the oven 😂

Aaaa omd thank you 🥺️ that means so much you don't understannnd

Again, housewife vibes?? Stability?! Coming home from another tiresome day at the accounting office to the smell of pumpkin pie in the oven?!? Edward would cry 🥲

I can see him trying to help out but copying you and needing guidance because the man only eats canned soups and takeout 😂 And if you spend most of your time in the kitchen, chances are he'll drag in some small table and work there too just so he can be around you because... it's Eddie 💚