Ditty. Adult. Horror Lover. Medicore Writer. Not the Slurm Queen. Forever determined to lick the lid of life and a big believer that all things work out in the end because the world is built on that principle.
Hello! I'm Ditty 👋 18+ ⛔️ and I'm a great believer in kindness as a basic courtesy. A very casual fic writer, i'm open to request as I love both sfw and nsfw/kink content. I am a horror film fanatic and I'm really just here to indulge my interests, chat absolute shite, and have a good auld giggle.
Fandoms I will write for: DC Comics, Gotham Rogues, Resident Evil, Outlast, Sandman, Devil May Cry, Soulsborne Games, Marvel, Hannibal, Star Wars, The Boys, Peacemaker, Fallout etc..
Summary - As day two of his forced servitude begins, Edward chooses to test his captors rules only to find that the great Ras Al Ghul is not a man to be trifled with. His punishment set, all Edward can now do is endure. (5.8k)
(tw: dub consent, whipping, mild blood, reference to past abuse, unconsciousness, blowjobs, aftercare, mild dom/sub)
Just like part one, this fic was made as a collab with @laxi0v0 and her beautiful artwork can be found here on tumblr or here AND here on BSky 😩💦
Link to fic on AO3 ☆ Fic Masterlist
scheherazade (part one)
The second day of his willing submission began without much issue. However, if time and experience had taught Edward anything, it was that his own ability to create trouble from nothing was impressive and that talent appeared to follow him like a second skin. Awaking on a bed far more luxurious than anything he had experienced before; it had taken a moment for Edward to fully recall exactly where he was and with whom.
All of the previous day’s events had barely been allowed to sink back into his conscious mind when Ras himself had spoken up, standing at the end of the bed to remind Edward of the specific rules of their engagement since Ras had business to attend to at the other end of the compound.
All services to be provided without question.
No leaving the private quarters.
Any reasonable requests to be provided to the servants who would sporadically be entering the space to conduct their duties.
It was that second rule which Edward had immediately chosen to test the flexibility of and the fact that Ras had made no efforts to lock the doors behind him after he left almost felt like too much of an invitation to ignore. Edward, at least, had the courtesy to bide his time and wait long enough to ensure that whatever business the Demons Head found himself tied up in was engaging enough to promise that he would be distracted for some time.
Breaking free of Ras’ personal chambers had been simple enough - slipping through the doors presenting no actual difficulty due to the lack of visible guard – and the visceral thrill of excitement which thrummed through Edward’s frame as he skulked around the walls of the huge compound was delightful. His steps feeling light and delicate as he passed by the outskirts of a beautiful garden. Filled with bright greenery and a host of tasteful water features, the space took Edward’s breath away for a moment as it stood as a total contradiction to the darkness and grime which his life in Gotham, even the city itself, seemed to be steeped within.
Edward walked the garden for some time with soft feet, his brain whirring with the vague botanical knowledge which he had absorbed over his time. The loose robe which hung around his frame caught on a sharp thorn and he took a moment to release the fabric, careful in his attempt to keep it from ripping. It was beautiful, genuinely beautiful, and his eyes absorbed every available inch as they filed it away within his busy mind to be further examined whenever he wanted.
So lost in his own thoughts as he inspected a small bush with a plush purple blooming, Edward never stood a chance of hearing the almost silent footsteps which approached his position. The shock which rocketed through his body as a rough hand grabbed at the scruff of his neck was so intense that he swore his feet both left the floor at the same moment while an undignified squeak of surprise slipped free of his lips. However, the shock was quick to flip to a very chilling thrill of anxiety as Edward found himself whirled in place so he could look straight into the eyes of a very furious Ras al Ghul.
“You dare!” Ras paused to inhale through his nose. “You dare to ignore my rules.”
Knowing he was caught, Edward’s natural defiance shone through before his rational brain could fully scream a warning that he should exercise caution. Ras was clearly unimpressed and yet his own arrogance could not allow him to back down now as he stood in open rebellion to his original agreement.
“I will not be caged up like a stray mutt.” Edward hissed, the rough grip on his neck sparking an anger in him which he could not help but express.
“Your arrogance,” Ras spoke lowly between his teeth as his golden eyes narrowed at the total lack of repentance, “is outstanding. Did you think I would not be made aware of your escape the moment a single atom of you slipped past its designated space? If you dare to challenge my very specific rules then you can suffer the consequences as any other would.”
Before Edward could argue further, he found his neck released before his upper body was instead gripped in a steely strength almost beyond what any reasonable man should possess
Assuming he was being dragged back to Ras’ private chambers, a flicker of fresh worry licked up Edward’s spine as he was instead led from the garden and into a room just off from the bedroom he was familiar with. Significantly less ornate than the room he was used to, something in how bare the space appeared immediately set alarm bells off in Edward’s head and their volume only grew as he took in the dual poles which were built into the floor and the thick metal shackles which hung from the upper ends of both.
Immediately shaking as he understood the premise of the set-up, old memories surfaced unbidden within Edward’s mind and his beard scratched his shoulder as he turned and immediately attempted to break free of the unyielding grasp as a cold dread hollowed him out.
“No.” Edward muttered, but any further argument dissolved into a pained grunt as Ras kicked at the back of his knee with a sharp foot to knock his legs out from under him. His knees colliding with the uncomfortable floor, all Edward could do was refuse his arms to co-operate as Ras quickly slipped the robe free of his upper half and allow it to pool around his lower hips and cover part of his kneeling legs.
His arms forced overhead regardless; Ras did not hesitate to lock each of Edward’s wrists within the thick metal cuffs which encircled the skin perfectly to ensure that he would be unable to escape without tearing the extremity of his hand from the wrist joint. There was a little give, only enough to allow him a few inches of struggle room, but the panic in Edward’s chest only bloomed as he realised that he was truly trapped like this – his body clearly nowhere near hard enough to pay the slightest threat to Ras’ eternal strength.
“No. No, don’t. You don’t have to do this. I didn’t mean to- please!”
Even as he begged, what truly frightened Edward was the silent determination which rolled from Ras’ every movement as he ensured Edward was secure before disappearing off behind him to pick up whatever unseen object he planned to use as part of his consequence. Attempting to be brave, Edward kept his chin high as he refused to look around but there was no hiding the wild shake in his shoulders.
Ras returned with slow, steady footsteps as he circled Edward like a vulture before stopping directly before him. Clasped between his fingers sat a threaded whip, the braided nature of it allowing for it to coil in his hand easily as he patiently waited and watched as Edward settled his eyes on it.
“Please don’t.” Edward pleaded, his wrists pulling at the restraints as his mouth worked rapidly. “I’m sorry. I won’t leave again. Not a whip. Please, not tha-”
“A consequence must be felt to possess any meaning. Therefore, twenty strokes. Manageable but painful enough to serve as a true punishment.” Ras explained, his gaze as steady as a river as he regarded Edward with no mercy in his features.
“Twenty?” Edward’s sharp eyes took in the coiled whip with genuine fear, his green eyes wide and shining in the dim light as his tone grew almost hysterical. “Surely that’s extreme, I was onl-”
“Your belief that this is a negotiation only continues to showcase your impudent arrogance. You were told to remain in place. You disobeyed. Be thankful that I am not fracturing the first ankle to cross the threshold of my rooms for its disrespect.”
Flinching at the very real threat, Edward said nothing as the fight in his body seemed to collapse into a miserable acceptance. Noting it, Ras stepped behind him and disappeared from view to begin administering his punishment. Edward’s breathing came sharp and short as anxiety flooded his body; the terror laced with the faintest hint of unwilling arousal as a small and painfully familiar masochistic voice whispered that he had earned this punishment. That he deserved it as he did so many other horrors.
“Twenty strokes. No need to count as I will keep the record.”
His wrists still pulling against the thick cuffs which encased them, Edward remained uncharacteristically quiet – trapped somewhere between genuine fear and a despondent acceptance that he was truly about to be whipped like a common mule. However, his pursed lips were quick to open as a pained gasp flew from his mouth when the first strike landed across his wide shoulders.
The sting was intense and sharp, like lightning cracking across the skin while a loud snap filled the air. As quickly as it struck, the pain dulled to a wicked heat which made the flesh feel as though it were throbbing as he rolled his shoulders to off-set as much off the discomfort as he could. Observing the mild reaction, Ras was pleased by the surprising lack of dramatics.
“Simply a taste of what will follow. You accepted the first with some bravery so let us see how long it holds out for.”
Ras was delicate and precise in his strikes, ensuring that every crack of the whip struck a new, unblemished area of flesh as he waited a short pace of time between each blow to ensure that the ache of the old did not melt into the sting of the new. The heat which grew in Edward’s skin at the practiced punishment was so steady and terrible in its intensity that he could not help but pull constantly at his own restraints, his knees widening and jerking against the floor as he flinched and recoiled at every hit. The very tip of the whip proved the worst as it delivered the most precise sting; a pathetic noise slipping free of Edward’s throat with every sharp impact of it against his unprotected skin.
Edward broke on the fourteenth strike.
The whip curled across his back, the tapered end ricocheting off the skin which protected his right kidney and the resounding crack which echoed from it was buried beneath the deep cry which finally escaped Edward’s lips as his resolve crumbled and hot tears leapt into his eyes. With the dam now broken, a low and steady series of stuttered gasping breaths marked the silence of the room as Edward suffered through the final stretch of his punishment.
“Six strikes to go.” Ras announced after a pause, his voice firm enough to cut across Edward’s muted sobs. “Endure them and consider your choices moving forward.”
Something wet trickled down Edward’s back and he flinched at the sensation, unsure if the liquid was sweat or blood, but his thoughts were short-circuited by a fresh blow across the expanse of his shoulders – the flash of pain so intense that he couldn’t even attempt to hide his sob as his body tensed before quickly going limp again. His fingers clawed at the metal cuff as he struggled to catch his breath even as the next series of blows sparked fire across his flesh.
Discomfort having dissolved into a true painful suffering, something almost like a dry-heave caught Edward’s throat and his eyes fluttered dangerously as tears rolled freely across his cheeks. The final strike hit with just as much control as the first and something white flashed in Edward’s vision as he heard the soft clatter of the coiled whip being dropped to the floor where Ras stood unseen.
Slamming his eyes shut, Edward tried to steady himself and it was only when a firm hand laced around his jaw that Edward dared to fully open his eyes once more, the pale green miserably staring up into Ras’ golden gaze which remained as steadfast as ever. Only now, there sat a definite heat behind his stare which hadn’t been there before.
“There is beauty in humility, my emerald. You have taken the first part of your punishment with dignity and that is more than can be said for most men.” Although firm, Ras’ grip was still delicate as it held his jaw – his thumb grazing across the thinner parts of Edward’s beard as he spoke.
Through the haze of his ongoing discomfort as his back continued to scream its discontent, only one part of Ras’ speech fully broke through the fog.
“First part?” Voice stuttering, the corners of Edward’s mouth twitched downwards as fresh misery settled into his bones.
“The second part is painless, truly more focused on ensuring that your purpose here is reinforced more than anything.” His free hand dropping to his groin, Ras wasted no time in adjusting his loose clothing to free his cock; the length already fully hard and obviously excited as he gripped it in his palm. “You must prove to me you have learned a lesson.”
Already worked up from his delivery of Edward’s punishment and the righteous irritation which still flowed through his veins, Ras did not bother trying to drag out this aspect of Edward’s repentance – instead preferring to simply use Edward as the relief he had been taken to provide as he pried his thumb between Edward’s lips and slipped his cock within his slackened mouth.
Edward, for his part, accepted the use with an almost relieved energy. This, he knew how to do, and despite the pain in his body, there was something intoxicating about having his mouth filled by such a powerful man. Even held in such a submissive positioning, it was not lost on Edward that this was another test – after all, he could bite down and take an easy revenge – but the idea sputtered out as quickly as it sparked.
Hollowing his cheeks as Ras’ hand came to rest on the back of his head, Edward allowed him to set a steady pace as he alternated between laying his tongue flat and using it to tease along Ras’ cock. His knees were still uncomfortable against the floor as he adjusted them but he didn’t allow his focus to waver. As controlled as ever, it only took Ras a few minutes to find his release and he was kind enough to pull his cock almost free of Edward’s mouth – shooting his release across Edward’s tongue and giving him the option to do with it as he wished.
Tasting the mess and still deliriously overwhelmed by the sensations which afflicted him, Edward dragged his eyes upward and ensured that he was holding Ras’ gaze within his own as he swirled his tongue within his mouth and swallowed down every drop of what Ras had so graciously given him.
“Hrm.” Ras made a quiet, appreciative noise low in his throat at the display and Edward felt a shameful delight ignite within his gut at the obvious approval as Ras continued. “Perhaps you have learned something after all. Remain still for another few minutes and I will inspect the damage.”
Shifting forward as he did not wait for permission, Ras trailed his fingers across Edward’s back, taking great care to avoid the few areas where the coiled whip had split the skin. He marked out the areas which would require mild medical attention to prevent infection from settling in, delicately ghosting the pads of his fingers over the welts with a satisfied twitch of his lips.
Such a close touch revealed something odd and Ras leaned down slightly to inspect something which caught his very precise attention.
There, beneath the fresh markings which he had so willingly delivered lay a faint scarring; the age of it clear in both its colouring and the subtlety of it as it stood out starkly against the brown of the skin. Whip marks, delivered by something far more brutal than the implement he had just used. Whatever had been used there was designed to inflict damage, real damage, and the truth of it sparked a curiosity within Ras’ mind which he quickly tucked away for later consideration.
Pulling free a small bottle from the depths of his robe, Ras placed a soothing hand atop Edward’s head as he shook the bottle to reveal its presence to the cuffed Edward.
“I will apply this balm to your wounds. It will not be a pleasant experience, but it will heal the worst of the markings and cleanse the broken skin. You may consider it a gift of sorts, for a punishment well received.”
Edward nodded his consent, a lightness in his head making his actions feel a little loopy as the adrenaline and residual ache from his punishment kept him into a borderline irrational state. A flash of white-hot pain, almost like the skin itself was being seared, flashed across his back a moment after he heard the bottle being uncapped and Edward experienced his own howl of pain as though it were a far-off noise as his vision blacked out and he immediately sunk into a blissful unconsciousness.
x-x-x-x-x
Life came back to Edward with a shocking gentleness as his eyes fluttered open to immediately be greeted by the sight of his own arms splayed out comfortably atop thick pillows. But what really drew his attention were the rings on his fingers and the thick bracelets which circled his wrists. A mixture of golds, one of the wrist cuffs appeared to be encrusted with a large green gem which blazed in the low candle lighting which illuminated the space. Glancing up, Edward was surprised to find he was in a low canopy of some sort, thick fabric draping low in parts as his body lay spread across plush blankets which felt wickedly soft against his skin.
All of his skin, he noted with mild surprise as he realised that he was also naked – his robe having presumably been removed at some point during his unconsciousness. His body thrummed with sensation but his focus shifted completely to his back and the very mild discomfort which throbbed across the skin. Eyes shifting back down to his own torso, Edward took in the bandages which wrapped around his chest with narrowed eyes as his finger shifted to tease along the fabric with a curious pressure.
“You slept longer than anticipated.” A familiar voice rang out and Edward flinched as he looked up to see the vague outline of Ras as he masked himself within the shadows of the nearby wall. At the sight of his captor and makeshift torturer, Edward fought the urge to drop his eyes to the floor as a cold whisper of anxiety squeezed his chest.
“Did you-” He gestured vaguely to his bandages.
“Yes. Once attended to, I dressed your wounds appropriately and carried you to this space to rest them for a little longer.” Ras pulled himself free of the darkness as he approached, his footsteps calm and steady until he stood to the mouth of Edward’s closed canopy. “You accepted your punishment with some dignity and I would not care to shatter such an enticing toy for such a petty infraction.”
“The jewellery?”
“I had a maid choose some appropriate pieces to decorate and compliment such a pretty emerald. If you are going to serve me then you should look as presentable as possible. The Demons Head does not believe in ostentatious displays but I do believe in celebrating beauty where it lies.”
“They’re heavy.” Edward rolled his wrists, admiring the golden glow and basking in the compliment even as his tone took on a faint, accusatory edge. “Almost like shackles.”
“Like, I said,” Ras repeated and he was visibly pleased at how quickly Edward has picked up on his wider intentions, “if you are going to serve me then the jewellery should also serve its purpose. Your shackles may not be made of steel but they do exist between the lines of our arrangement.”
His delight at the perceived gift dimming slightly as its dual nature was revealed, Edward instead flipped the conversation to another pressing question.
“What was that liquid you put on me?” Edward asked, the ghostly pain still fresh in his mind.
“Diluted waters from the Lazarus Pit.” Ras explained, his sharp teeth appearing as his mouth opened slightly. “Even separated from their source, they retain a healing factor which is unexplainable. But bear it no mind as I would like to invite you to eat since you have not taken in a decent meal since your arrival yesterday and a respectable host does not allow a guest to suffer unnecessarily.”
Ras disappeared for a moment, walking around the side of the canopy as something metallic clinked within his touch. Returning, Edward felt a wicked growl in his stomach as he took in the large platter which Ras carefully placed on the blankets by his prone body. He had not realised how hungry he truly was until his gaze settled on the delicious spread on offer.
Steam poured from the spout of the silver teapot which lay towards the left of the tray, the engraved patterns which swirled across the shining metal intricate and expensive. A vague smell of herbal tea accompanied the steam and Edward inhaled it softly as Ras poured a healthy cup of it out before shifting back – Edward’s positioning too awkward to allow him to pour the boiling liquid with any real accuracy. As he retreated, Edward cast his eyes back to the food on show.
On the plate closest to him lay a handful of grape leaves, stuffed with what looked like a rice and meat combination, and next to that lay a small bowl with a pomegranate and some dates – their rich colour only emphasised by a sheen which could only come from a light drizzling of honey. To finish the platter, a deep bowl of soup, it’s colouring bright and inviting, lay beside a well-charred flatbread.
Unsure where to start, Edward’s fingers crept to the grape leaves as he picked one up and took a generous bite. His mouth flooded with flavour, the saltiness of the meat mixing with an odd sour note which set his tastebuds ablaze. It was food which he had not tasted for a lifetime and he quickly blinked away the vague memories which threatened to overwhelm him as the soft and familiar voice of his mother touched at the edge of his thoughts. He finished his piece with a soft hum, keeping his attention fully on the food to avoid the passive gaze of Ras as he watched him eat without comment.
Edward switched to the dates, his natural sweet tooth craving something to take the edge off. Biting into it, he could not hold back the small groan of appreciation which slipped free of his lips as the honeyed flavour exploded across his mouth. So lost in his own appetites, he allowed himself to indulge freely – his hands shifting between the different small plates with a ferocity which spoke to how truly hungry he was.
As Edward filled himself, Ras watched on with a vaguely pleased sensation as he observed the meal which his staff had so diligently prepared be enjoyed as it should be. However, as Edward started to slow down, Ras found himself being the object of observation as Edward’s keen analytical eyes swept across every inch of him as though he were attempting to discern something.
“Why give me all this?” Gesturing to the space around him, from the plush pillows to the remaining food which now lay almost fully consumed, Edward was not ungrateful but he was confused by it all. “We both know I’m here because I need to be, to serve out this willing humiliation ritual before being tossed back to my own questionable existence. So, why bother? I’m not some secret lover. I’m not owed any of this. Either you really are as mad and honourable as the rumours claim, or you want something which treating me cruelly won’t earn you. So why bother?”
“You are a very curious man.” Ras replied, avoiding the mixed questions gracefully. “And if my reputation precedes me then yours also holds its weight.”
“I am the Riddler.” Edward flashed his bright teeth, light filling his face as he wore his moniker with pride. “I can’t help but engage with any puzzle I stumble on. I am what I am, just as you are what you are.” He paused. “You should eat with me.”
“Excuse me?”
Edward gestured to the free space on the other side of the food platter, “Eat with me. Please. You standing over me like this is making my neck sore.”
And it was true. Having to peer up was beginning to cause an ache in Edward’s neck, but the truth which went unspoken was the much more complex mess which ached in his chest. He feared Ras’, resented how easily he had been forced to buckle and accept the submissive position which Ras demanded. However, even he had to acknowledge that it could have been worse as many would have used this as an opportunity to do little more than fuck and torture him for a few days before discarding him like meat.
The Demon’s Head had done nothing of the sort.
Yes, he expected services as per their agreement but his methods and even his punishments, despite Edward’s initial protest, had been somewhat reasonable and littered with odd gifts such as the new jewellery and the robes which seemed designed to complement his personal style. Naturally tilting towards being a more masochistic and submissive lover, the rough sex was nothing new to him and he could not deny the intoxicating strength and sheer aura which radiated from Ras’ every definite movement was attractive enough to spark an attraction which hardly made the sex a chore.
The line between his willingness and what was being put upon him was growing steadily more blurred as his time within Ras’ presence increased; the deepest muddling coming from the fact that Ras seemed to possess an interest in him outside of what base delights his body could offer and a strange desire to see him improve himself in some way.
It was puzzling.
And Edward, above all else, loved a puzzle.
Eyes peering into Edward’s own as though he could discern the truth of his intentions from a simple look, Ras accepted the offer with a surprising grace as he stepped within the canopy and dropped to the floor – his legs adjusting themselves into a comfortable crossed positioning. Edward shifted immediately, his own body rising up into a sitting position which put no pressure on his aching back, and he handed over the plate of dates to Ras with a complicated expression.
Ras gently declined the dates, instead reaching for a sliver of flatbread before picking up the conversation where it had left off, “You say you are what you are, and yet, you are not who you claim to be.”
“I am the Riddler.” Edward repeated, tone slightly confused by Ras’ apparent denial of his moniker.
“But you are not Edward Nygma. That name is a fraud.”
Understanding alit in Edward’s eyes as he greedily swallowed another date, “It’s the name I chose.”
“And your real name?”
“Not up for discussion.” Edward’s smile never faded but his tone took on an edge which did not go unnoticed by either man. “A dead man tells no tales.”
Willing to drop the topic for now, Ras shook his head in disapproval at Edward's chosen name, "Edward is a name which denotes wealth and you are not a wealthy man. You have no true assets and no loved ones to enrich your life. With your arrogance, you appear to be carrying yourself as a prince while living a pauper’s existence."
Despite the obvious criticism, Edward laughed and the sound of it was so genuine and light that Ras felt the corners of his own lips twitch even as he failed to understand the joke.
"A prince indeed.” Edward gestured to himself. “The Prince of Puzzles.” He then gestured to Ras. “The Demons Head. We are both vain creatures."
Ras nodded at the fair assessment, filing away his follow-up question about Edward’s scarring for a later time, “Very astute, my emerald. In turn, and to satiate my own curiosity, I will allow the great Prince of Puzzles to pose me a question. Only one, and one which I will answer as honestly as I can. So take great care to consider your options.”
Surprisingly, Edward did just that. His mouth sealing shut as his analytical eyes darted across Ras’ face as they cycled through a million thoughts with a processing speed which would shame a typical man. Eventually, Edward settled on something and his shoulders squared slightly as he fixed Ras with a sharp gaze, the pale green of his gaze radiating.
“In the pit, those- those voices, what are they?”
Not expecting that, Ras allowed himself a moment to consider his own answer as he was forced to confess a truth which still plagued his own understanding of the power he wielded so carefully.
“I do not know.” Ras sighed. “Only theories. Perhaps they are death herself, muttering madness into the ears of those who so defiantly try to stand against her. Perhaps they are the souls of those already lost trying to claw their way back to a world which has no space for them. Do you recall their words?”
“No. Just the lull of them trying to pull me deeper and deeper into the depths as my body healed. They told me something, put the pieces of a puzzle together which I had never quite been able to solve,” Edward paused to sigh deeply, “but then consciousness ripped the answer from me. It never came back. A riddle with no answer.”
“A price for everything. We are born and from that moment we are destined to die; to upset that balance requires a price and madness appears to be what the pit demands.” After a pause, Ras spoke again and his tone was curious as he asked, “Why risk it all?”
Sighing, Edward’s eyes appeared older than their years as he tapped at his outer thigh, “I arrive unannounced. I never knock. I walk beside you. I never speak. I claim king and pauper alike, yet I show no hate and know no pride.”
“Death.” Ras answered without missing a beat, “You were dying.”
“Cancer in the frontal lobe. Inoperable. A slow, miserable fate.” Bitter even now, Edward did not like to discuss it. “To risk your wrath was the only choice but I still feel the consequences even now. Baths are difficult.” He smiled weakly as he sat up a little higher, the confession surprising in its intimacy. “The water terrifies rather than soothes and I can’t bring myself to put my head under. I’m a grown man, a genius, with the fear of a toddler. Embarrassing. Does the madness come every time the pit is used?”
“Yes. To varying intensities. Sometimes it manifests at rage. Sometimes despair. Days, weeks, months. The variation in possibility is why their power can never be taken for granted.” Ras explained, his fingers stroking along the edge of the soup bowl as he spoke. “Only once did the madness truly grip me. I gathered my swords and cut through my own men like they were nothing. A true rampage which would have gone unchecked if it weren't for the only warrior brave enough to stand up and defeat me in open combat."
"The Batman?"
"No." Ras answered, not unkindly but sharper than he probably intended. "My daughter. Talia. The true heir to the Demon's Head. She drew her swords and I drew mine and, in my madness, she proved capable of doing what was necessary. Once healed, my pride in her went unmatched."
That same pride glowed in his tone as Ras discussed his heir apparent and Edward noted the genuine love which seemed to exist within the words. However, just as soon as it appeared, that warmth fled and was replaced with a familiar coolness as Ras spoke once more – his tone now much more controlled as he gazed across at Edward’s prone form.
“I would like to inspect your bandages once more before they are removed. Tomorrow perhaps. You have one more day still to serve, my emerald. May I suggest that you take some time today to reflect on those shortcomings which you allow to limit your potential? You possess intelligence, of that there is no denial, but your body – your discipline – is weak.”
Edward’s face screwed up as Ras spoke, his thumb and forefinger rising to run across his beard and he opened his mouth to argue the point but found himself cut off immediately as Ras continued to set out his plans.
“The remainder of this day will continue as such.” Ras leaned in closer. “You are permitted access to my chambers and my personal library but be warned that any attempt to step beyond what I so graciously allow will result in a more lingering punishment.” Hearing the words, Edward bristled but remained silent. “I have more business to attend to and I will personally come to collect you once it has been conducted so you may perform whatever evening services I require of you.”
The offer of access to Ras’ private library was one which Edward had not expected and there was no denying the thrill of excitement which laced up his spine at the thought of some of the information which the ancient tones could no doubt hold. But still, he had one more day to contend with and so Edward asked, “And tomorrow?”
“As I said, you lack discipline.” Ras repeated, tilting his head as he stared deep into Edward’s gaze. “Tomorrow, you will rise early and spar with me; a friendly spar with all limbs to remain attached. With it, I provide you with the chance to prove my assessments wrong. If you can land a single blow on me, then I will swallow my words and offer a most gracious apology.”
“Why?”
“Intelligence possesses its own power, but without strength it is useless. I wish to test your mettle. That’s all.”
A strange mixture of emotions fluctuated within Edward’s chest, instinctual fear giving way to a hot anticipation at taking part in something so primal and dangerous. Sensing that the choice was not his to make, Edward could only give a sharp nod as he exhaled slowly through his nose and allowed his fingers to once again delve back down to pick up one of those delicious dates. If he was going to spend hours being carved up like a turkey at the hands of the Demons Head, then he would do so with a full stomach.
Do you have a favorite canon Crane? And would you say you’re most influenced by the comics or other media when you write for him?
I've always had a genuine love for Year One Crane and I usually defer more to him in terms of a backstory for my own Crane. I also have love for Arkham Crane as well as a few oneshot stories here and there. I am mostly influenced by a mixture of Year One, Arkham, and also the Crane which @spyvstailor developed across her Gotham Rogues fanfic since that was the first fanon Crane I ever remember really falling in love with back in the day. Thank you for the lovely ask, bby ❤️ xx
🔥 - A skinny Oswald Cobblepot is an absolute cowards move and anyone who deliberately makes him skinny because they deem it ‘better’ in some way is welcome to fight me. However, be warned that I will come in swinging like a fucking windmill so pick ur strategy tactfully.
Been obsessed with your outlast + your re9 fics especially
Do you think you'd do more transmasc stuff or mayhaps a Gideon pegging fic because that Zeno one was fire
I just think all the evil men need it up the ass 😔
I have both things in the pipeline but I am unsure when i will 100% get around to it because I am flicking between projects atm! I plan to though! And thank you for the lovely message xx
Trailing the blunted edge of his personal knife across your collarbone, the pressure which Jack Krauser is able to apply to your lower stomach as he pins you to the bed is enough to draw another pathetic whimper from your lips as you squirm from the discomfort of your organs shifting themselves under his weight.
“Jack, please.”
“I’m only asking you a question, doll. You’re the one who’s choosing to be difficult.” Jack says, bringing the very tip of the blade to your sternum as he shakes his head down at you with a twisted smile. “So, I’ll ask again, who was he?”
“I don’t know.”
The answer was honest. The ‘he’ in question being some random guy who had come up to you in the street to ask if you knew where the closest drugstore was. He was brave, you’ll give him that, for even daring to come near you when Jack’s thick arm was laced around your waist to keep you close as he walked you up to your apartment. However, his innocent question had caused that same arm to tighten to the point of discomfort as you told him you weren’t sure; a silent groan at the immediate tension which rolled through Jack’s body as his insanely jealous tendencies surfaced in an instant.
Thankfully, the incident passed without any further issue and the stranger continued on his path with a look of genuine confusion as he glanced between his phone and the street signs which decorated the building corners. However, Jack’s grip didn’t lessen, not even when you willingly pressed in closer to him – silently throwing yourself deeper into his space without hesitation as you try to soothe the growing irritation you can feel emitting from his scowling expression.
It has proven to be a useless effort though.
Barely having made it past the door to your apartment before Jack had snatched you up over his shoulders and marched you into your shared bedroom – dropping you to the bed with enough force to knock the air from your lungs before he pulled his knife free and pinned you firmly beneath his weight.
“Huh, he didn’t seem your type so maybe I do believe you,” Jack mutters the confession into your cheek as his hot breath glances across your ear, “but I always have to be sure. Besides, I know you like it here. Pinned beneath me, desperate to taste my knife again.”
Pivoting from aggressive to horny with such precision that you suspect his perception of both might be too linked to ever truly distinguish between them, Jack drags your hand from its position on the bed to cup at his cock – the tent in his pants undeniable as he grinds your hand into his groin with a playful pressure.
“Jack, you’re scaring me.” You lie, knowing he likes to hear the words and the power they so willingly give him. Your panties feel damp against your cunt and there is no denying that he’s right. You do love this.
“Yeah?” Jack breathes heavily, eyes narrowing as his expression grows steadily more predatory as you meet his arousal with your own. “Let’s see, huh?”
Without asking, his fingers slip past the waistband of your sweats as they push down towards his prize; the digits easily pressing up against your soaked panties as he unleashes a low growl at the wet mess he finds there.
“Is this for me?”
“It’s always for you,” the words are a groan as you roll your cunt into his hand to encourage him to touch you, “and I want you to feel it. All of it.”
“Hmm,” Jack hums expectantly as he teases the edge of his knife up your clothed thighs, “I don’t know If I want to fuck you, eat you out, or cut something new into these pretty hips.”
“Eat me out and I’ll suck your cock.” The offer comes easily, your mouth watering at the thought of wrapping around him and watching as he tries to maintain composure about it.
“Ha,” his short burst of laughter feels dangerous, a dark humour which promise nothing good, “a good ol’ fashioned 69. It’s been a while. This your way of apologising, yeah?”
Placing the knife to the bed with more delicacy than anything he’d shown you since dropping you here, Jack pulled his fingers free and his hands are quick to actually unbutton your jeans and pull the waistband down enough to showcase the scar which sits just below the fabric to the left side towards your hip.
As smooth as the day he had first carved it, the ‘J’ stands starkly white against the unblemished skin which surrounds it and you gasp as Jack runs his thumb across the raised skin with a firm pressure while a possessive smirk curls the edges of his lips.
“I think about this when I’m working sometimes, you know. Shouldn’t because it distracts from the job, but fuck-” Jack pauses, “just remembering that scream as you took the mark. Always need to jerk off about it when I get the time.”
“Yours. Always.” You parrot the words, your hand coming up to graze across his smooth cheek as your cunt throbs at the idea of him jerking off to your mark.
“Mine.” Jack confirms, his hands continuing to tug your denims down until he can slip them free of your body. “Fuck the 69. Flip over, doll. Let me show you how I treat my things.”
Giggling as he flips you without any effort, you find yourself pulled up on all fours before you can really work out what the hell is going on. Your panties still on, you inhale sharply as Jack grinds his groin into your ass before you hear the telltale sound of his pants unzipping.
“Are you going to fuck me, Major Krauser?” Using his title with a teasing edge, you arch your back as deeply as you can while widening your knees. Positioned like this, you know you’re in for a fun time as he typically reserves doggy for quick, hard fucks which always leave you boneless and aching.
He doesn’t respond to the question but his fingers are rough as they tug your panties to the side, not even bothering to pull them free of your ass. The thick head of his cock teases your hole for a moment, swiping down to collect your arousal for an easier entry as he makes sure to graze your clit teasingly before returning his cock back to its prize.
With a solid snap of his hips, Jack slams his cock into you and the sudden, consuming pressure of him stretching out your walls as his cock immediately sits flush against your cervix is enough to pull a stunted yelp from your throat. The force almost knocks you from position but a thick forearm snakes its way across your throat as Jack pulls your head back to anchor you against him – the unyielding muscle against your neck choking you slightly as he hisses at the tight fit and begins to set a brutal pace.
Every plunge of his cock is marked by a sharp noise as your struggling throat can only issue a series of gasps and encouragements while you push back as much as possible to meet his ferocity. Rough sex you love and no one gives it rougher than Jack Krauser; his efforts making it almost feel like he is trying to punish you for some perceived wrong as he bucks within you.
The position is as delicious as always, the straightness of his cock allowing it to easily brush up and against your g-spot with every sharp plunge. It doesn’t last long, it never does like this, and the almost constant pressure against your most sensitive internal spots have you reaching your release in an embarrassingly short time. You come with a strangled cry, the sound muffled by the hard forearm which makes it difficult to take a solid breath, and the added light-headedness only adds to the wild sensation which rolls through your body as you desperately clench around him.
“So. Fucking. Tight.” Jack growls, every word punctuated by a fresh thrust as he feels you come undone around him. “Like a vice, squeezing my dick like it’s desperate for it. Did my thick cock make you come, doll?”
Unable to answer him as his relentless pace keeps the pleasure rolling through your frame, you can only writhe beneath him as his shocking strength keeps you pinned. Luckily, Jack seems as pent up as yourself as you can feel when he gets close because the pace of his hips grows sloppier and less controlled. You feel his cock twitch within you as he comes, the burn of his release only adding to the overstimulated nerves which feel shot as you go limp below him and allow him to use you for his own pleasure.
His feral grunting peaks with his release and just as quickly settles back into something more controlled as he treats himself to a few slow strokes where his cock feels like it’s trying to push his cum as deeply as possibly. Marking you from the inside out as his own.
Jack slips free of you with a subtle groan after a few moments, his wilting cock laying flush against his upper thigh as he drops to lay out flat against the bedsheets – carefully avoiding his own knife as he pulls your twitching frame tight to his side, forcing you to throw an arm across his chest.
His release, mixed with your own arousal, drips steadily free of your hole and even through the haze of your post-coital bliss, you cringe as you think about the clean-up. The room stinks of sex and sweat, the warmth from the daytime sun still pouring in through one of the opened windows.
Jack is the one to break the silence as he finally picks up his knife once more and inspects it for a moment before reaching over to place it on the bedside table.
“You know I’d cut your throat wide open if I thought you were seeing another guy.”
He offers the words conversationally but you can hear the truth within. Not a warning. But a truth. Something which will come to pass if those circumstances should be met.
“I know, Jack.” You answer with a sigh, throat rough and tender from the residual pressure of his arm having been wrapped around it. “But, to be fair, you don’t even want to know what I’d do to you if I found out you’d stuck your dick in some other bitch. So, we’re even.”
He laughs at that, the sound rumbling through his chest and into your cheek as he wraps his arm tighter around your waist – his thumb falling to its typical positioning atop your hip as it presses gently into his scarred initial.
I am working away diligently on the follow-up to @laxi0v0 and I's little ongoing Riddler/Ras Al Ghul collaboration 🥴😩💦 It's legit making my brain buzz dangerously!! Such a fun dynamic.
I am working away diligently on the follow-up to @laxi0v0 and I's little ongoing Riddler/Ras Al Ghul collaboration 🥴😩💦 It's legit making my brain buzz dangerously!! Such a fun dynamic.
“You are no different from anyone else. We are all the same but in different words. With different bodies, different versions, like insects. Meat!" — Isabelle Adjani as Anna in Possession (1981) dir. Andrzej Żuławski
I do not wish to write with people who actively use Generative AI.
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