♡ Edward Nygma throws riddles in the middle of intimate moments, maintaining control and ensuring that Fox can only continue if she answers correctly. For him, each intimate encounter with the vigilante is a game of both intellectual power and pleasure.
Finally, Eddie touched a woman. Now, when is he going to touch a shower?? 🗣️
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With a sigh, Jonathan adjusts the cloak that wraps around his dark ensemble, looking in the mirror with a critical eye. Halloween has always been his favourite holiday, and why wouldn't it be? The night where everyone in Gotham is after a thrill, a scare. And he'd be there to give it to them, pumping his fear gas into whatever nightclub room or cinema screening he fancied, watching on in glee as people screamed and sobbed at the intensity of their nightmarish visions. He'd laugh to himself, analysing their facial expressions, estimating their heart rate, placing small bets as to which person would crack first.
Ideally that's what he'd be doing now, but as he adjusted the ridiculous costume you'd made him wear, he had to place those thoughts away. Being invited to a party was not his idea of a good time, but he knew the optics, he knew he had to show his face, if only for an hour or two before he could slip away and start his own night of fun. And if some liquidized fear toxin just happened to make it's way into whatever stupidly expensive liquor Nygma would be sure to be drinking, then he supposes he'll just have to enjoy the show.
"Y'done yet?" He calls out to you, eyeing the bedroom door with slight annoyance. The sooner you both leave, the sooner he can get this whole socialisation over with. Muttering to himself, he checks his watch before the telltale creak of the door opening makes his eyes dart up.
You'd told him your idea of a couples costume, and he'd scoffed at first. It was only when you promised to watch some obscure french horror film with him that he finally relented and allowed you to order the costume in his measurements. But now he realises it was worth it, if only to see you looking so...delectable.
You grin as you walk up to him, long white dress trailing with each step. He watches your eyes go to the mask, and the slight blush that forms on your cheek as you take him in.
While he'd read the novel, he had never seen the film or stage adaptation of the Phantom of the Opera, only familiar with the mask that now adorns his sharp features. So he hadn't known what to expect when you said you were dressing as Christine. Immediately his hands go to trace the lace sleeves of the dress, bony digits caressing the pattern downwards.
"Jon...you look amazing." you say with a smile, the white mask coupled with the dark suit and cloak really making him appear more villainous. His stature means he looms over you as you speak, and the faintest trace of a smirk becomes etched on his face as he realises the effect he's having.
Not that his trousers hadn't gotten more tight the second he'd seen you, the picture of innocence in virginal white, your hair up and adorned with little gems. To tease you, he grabs your wrist and holds it up, pulling you closer and not letting you pull away.
"Don't you look like a little angel." he taunts, eyes dragging up and down you once again, settling on your cleavage shamelessly. Your breathing increases, slightly intentional on your part to make your chest rise and fall in an obvious way.
"Do I?" you ask, slightly coquettishly as you smile up at him. In return, the grip on your wrist tightens a little.
"You do darlin'...so innocent and corruptible."
At his words, you flush slightly as he bends down to run his nose gently along the side of your neck. The gesture makes your lips part, tilting your head and baring yourself to him as a sign of implicit submission. And he likes that.
"The Phantom wants the girl, doesn't he?" he asks, his voice slightly rougher as you nod in confirmation. "Can see why, but does she want him?"
"In the film she does...she's drawn to his mystery I think."
He hums in response, leaning down but stopping just before his lips graze your skin, content to watch the slight shiver the action elicits from you. "And what about you?"
"If it's you, then I'd follow you anywhere. Even in the depths of your lair beneath an opera house." you say breathlessly with a soft laugh, attempting to make light of the situation to save yourself the embarrassment of admitting just how turned on you've became by Jonathan doing barely anything.
He finally lets go of your wrist, but not before pushing you so your back hits the hallway wall. This time when he leans down, he does leave a soft kiss right on your pulse point, and the soft whimper that escapes your throat makes him grin.
"Jonathan...we have to go, we don't want to be late." You say, attempting to have some control over yourself. But he doesn't let you move, still crowding you against the wall.
"I have to get in character, don't I?" he teases, and you could curse his southern drawl for sounding too attractive in this moment as his breath tickles your ear. "I'm a very...passionate man after all, am I not? One that is hopelessly in love with the beautiful young opera singer."
His tone is almost mocking, but it doesn't stop you from biting your lip as his chest nearly presses against yours. Teeth gently graze your earlobe before he continues. "And my beautiful prey has stumbled into my lair so willingly, in such a temptin' outfit."
He punctuates his words by running his hands up your sides, thinking the fabric is too soft, too delicate for a man like him to be touching. But that is precisely what's turning him on, as he holds you in place. "Perhaps I should demonstrate to her the depths of my desires...show her what she's missin' out on in her pristine life."
His words act like a sharp knife, cutting through your worry of being punctual as he can observe your shoulders relaxing. To seal the deal, he brings his mouth to the side of your neck and bites down, leaving a mark. "So I can taint her."
With a shaky sigh, you nod, giving him the permission he was waiting for. His hands reach up to cup your tits, feeling the top of them roughly beneath his callous fingers. You arch your back a little, enjoying the touch despite the slight discomfort.
"Tell me my dear...are you scared of me?" he mutters, his voice taking on a dark edge as he gets into character, well, his version at least.
"Y-Yes." you say softly, playing up the innocent victim angle, just like you know he likes.
"You should be...these hands have ended the lives of many men who cross me, of men who think they can have you."
Despite the make believe aspect, your breath still catches and your hips still buck at his words, heat blossoming between your legs. Of course he catches this, moving his hands down to feel your hips, head dipping to kiss down your neck to your collarbones.
"And yet you come to me so willingly, such eager prey."
At his words, he traces his teeth down, not quite breaking the skin but giving you the threat that he could. You let out a deliciously desperate noise, almost tempted to beg but deciding against it. Jonathan always liked the thrill of the chase, of wearing you down and frightening you into submission. And you loved to give him that.
"What are you going to do to me?" you ask, proud of yourself for how convincing you made your apprehension sound.
"Oh angel..." he croons, pulling away to look at you, grasping your jaw for good measure. "Whatever I please."
At his words, he grips your wrist once more before pulling you into the bedroom. You stumble to match his pace as he takes a moment to look at you once more. It's almost clinical, the way he stares at you.
"I wonder what you'll look like beneath me." he says aloud, starting to circle you, relishing in the embarrassment that seems to radiate from you. You fight to keep still, fiddling with your sleeve before he settles behind you.
His hands go to the back of your dress, where you’d nearly cracked your back attempting to tie a cute little bow. Feeling the dress loosen, you know he’s undone it, before he reaches around to grip at your throat, pulling your back roughly against his chest. He doesn't move or relax his grip, simply humming and pressing his mouth to your jawline.
"You're tremblin' like a leaf." he says in a self-satisfied manner. "Maybe I should show y'the things I can make you feel."
Pressing his fingers in a little, the sensation of him choking you has a soft mewl escape your lips, eyelids fluttering shut. Your life is in his hands, both in the roleplay and in reality, and it causes your thighs to press together firmly.
"The pleasure that comes from fear, the endorphins your body releases when you’re unsure if you should run or submit.”
He hisses the last word into your ear, before bending you over the bed. You yelp softly, bracing your fall on your elbows as he quickly pushes the long white skirt up. As more of your skin is revealed, he lets out a guttural noise as he sees the matching white stockings and garter belts you’d put on underneath.
“Such a fuckin’ sight.” He says, snapping the elastic of the stocking against your skin to make you jump.
His constantly cold hands trace up to your panties, feeling the wet material beneath his fingertip. Smirking, he circles it methodically, your clit receiving a dull stimulation.
“Please…” you beg him softly, trying to grind down on his digit.
He wants nothing more than to drag this out, to make you beg and scream for him before he finally takes you. But he knows time is fleeting, and you both need to make an appearance soon. So he quickly pulls down your underwear, so they stay around your knees, before pushing a finger inside your sloppy sounding cunt.
“So wet…I knew you were secretly a dirty angel. Practically soaking through your nice underwear. All f’me.”
At his words he pushes a second one inside, stretching you out as he fucks you with a suprisingly gentle rhythm. Your thighs shake a little, and images of you screaming and writhing with his fear toxin in your system flash across his mind.
Pushing back against him, the rhythm of your hips moving forces him out of his daydream, and he deems you stretched enough to pull his fingers out, wiping them on your ass.
He fiddles with the zipper of his costume, before he gets an idea. Grabbing you, he forces you around the bed, so you’re still bent over, but are now facing the mirror you'd used earlier to admire yourself in your dress.
You gasp softly in embarrassment as you realise what he wants, but your eyes can’t tear themselves away from his face, how gorgeous the mask looks settled on his striking features. So captivated, you miss that he’s taken his cock out until he taps it against your asscheek, before pushing it against your soaked folds.
“Do you want me? Beg. Beg me to debase you, to corrupt you.”
“Please…” you say, needing him desperately as he grinds his cock along your cunt, never quite breaching. Holding his gaze in the mirror, you reiterate. “Please corrupt me.”
He grins, before pushing in, and your mouth parts into a slight 'o' shape as you’re filled. The ever so slight burning stretch only adds to the sensation, your hands gripping the sheets as he settles inside you as deep as he physically can get himself.
“Good…” he gets out through gritted teeth.
At your airy moan, he starts his even pace. The slick sound of skin meeting skin fills the room, and you have to look down to avoid the image of your own desperation in the mirror. A hand grabs at your hair and pulls, disrupting your carefully placed hairstyle.
“Look at yourself, watch as the monster everyone fears takes what he wants.”
You moan louder, watching your own expression in the reflection as you’re fucked. Luckily he doesn’t seem to mind when your gaze travels upwards, watching his facial expressions. His jaw set in a tight line, he looks at you with an almost sadistic expression. Like he unashamedly wants to break you.
His hand grabs at your hip, feeling the material beneath his grasp as he bunches it. With each thrust, the dress ripples and moves, and he looks up to see your breasts bouncing with each snap of his hips.
“How depraved you’re become, moanin' like a paid harlot on the Paris streets.” He groans, and you’d admire his dedication to the roleplay if your brains weren’t leaking out of your ears. “Such wanton desperation from a girl as delectable as you.”
You whine at his praise, unable to hold yourself up anymore so you let yourself fall into the pillows. The image causes Jonathan to speed up his thrusts, gripping one of your hands and moving it in a demand for you to self pleasure. Not needing to be told twice, you start to circle your clit, moaning out at the sensation.
“Good girl…need you to cum around me, show me how lustful and immodest I’ve made you.”
You nod, feeling the pleasure build and build. A sharp slap to the ass makes you jump, writhing in place. Sure that you’re makeup is most likely a mess now, you drag your cheek across the sheets to get a better look at the mirror, more specifically at your lover.
The fact he hadn’t taken the costume off makes it even better, his cloak moving with every thrust. You’re a little surprised his mask has stayed on, but you thank whatever sex deity allowed it to remain in place for the image it gives you. This’ll be masturbation fodder for a good while, you’re sure of it.
“Gonna cum…” you manage to get out after a while longer, his cock thrusting into your g spot with cruel precision now. He growls behind you, slapping your ass again just to be cruel.
However the stinging pain tips you over the edge as you cum with a soft cry, clenching around him. You keep rubbing your clit, prolonging the pleasure for as long as possible. Hands falling back to the sheets, you feel Jonathan slightly reposition you, before he starts thrusting harder.
Clearly chasing his own release, he grips both of your hips and rams into you, and his breathing patterns lets you know it won’t be long. So you keep letting out pathetic sounding gasps and whines, arching your back for him. He groans, feeling his balls tighten.
“I’m gonna fill you up, make you keep my cum all throughout the stupid party.” He manages to get out, before he’s spilling inside of you. After a few more shallow thrusts, he stills, basking in the feeling of your walls wrapped around him.
Eventually he pulls out, quickly yanking your panties up snugly so his cum can’t leak out all the way. You whimper at the sensation, cold and uncomfortable, but at the same time so...right.
“There…nice and snug.” He condescends, patting your ass before pulling your dress back down. Helping you up, he turns you around and holds your cheek, looking down at you. “Was I convincing?”
You nod dumbly, still frazzled even as Jonathan looks at his watch. “Good, if we leave now we can still make it in time to see Nygma relive his childhood years after toasting his glass.”
I don't know if you do poly scenes, but if so, could you do the riddler x reader x scarecrow? (the riddler and scarecrow put aside their differences to give their partner a very special birthday gift) (I love the way you write)
Scriddler making their gf’s birthday a special one
Authors note: thank you v much! And yes I do indeed write poly scenes (ngl I’ll write nearly anything). Their characterisations are very much inspired by @capr1pengu1n ‘s amazing two part series of threesome fics with Edward and Jonathan. [x] [x]
Nsfw 18+, fem reader, threesome obvs, fingering
“You bought her flowers?”
“Of course i did.” Edward snaps, rolling his eyes. “God haven’t you ever had a girlfriend before? Oh, scratch that, I know you haven’t.”
“Alright no need to get your panties in a twist.” Jonathan mumbles in return, ascending the final set of stairs before arriving at your apartment door. "Besides, I got her a gift. One besides flowers that'll die in a couple days."
Edward scoffs as he knocks on your door, casting a glance at the doctor. "You think I've only bought her flowers? I have another ace up my sleeve. Don't you know how much money I've acquired over the years?"
"Goddamn it will you stop talkin' like i'm broke-"
Both of their eyes snap to the door as you open it, smiling softly at seeing both of your boyfriends waiting for you. Edward, determined as ever to have all eyes on him, thrusts the flowers into your hands quickly before Jonathan can speak.
"A very happy birthday my dear." he chirps happily, and as you gush over the flowers he casts a self satisfied smirk Jonathan's way.
Jon coughs a little, before giving you a half smile. "Yeah, happy birthday darlin'."
You invite them both in, your cheeks already burning a little at the attention as you go to place Edward's flowers in a vase. Thinking you can hear them bickering again from the other room, you laugh and sit between them both on the sofa.
"Maybe try not to launch at eachother, at least until I've had my cake?" you say with a grin.
"Anything for you my love." Edward croons at you, giving you a cheeky kiss beneath your earlobe. Jonathan huffs, curling his arm around your waist.
"Got y'a little somethin'"
You turn to look as Jonathan opens his coat jacket and retrieves something from the large inner pocket. He produces a crow's feather, presumably his own crow Ichabod's, that had been pressed.
"Figured cause y'like to read, it could be a bookmark or somethin'..." He sounds unsure as he speaks, almost like he's embarrassed, but you take it with a bright smile.
"Oh Jonathan...it's beautiful. That's so thoughtful, thank you!"
He hums a little at your praise, mumbling a quick 'don't mention it.' before you kiss him on the cheek. As you pull away, Edward laughs softly at the slight red imprint you've left on his cheek with lipstick.
You go to clean it, before Edward catches your wrist. "I say we leave it, it suits him."
Jonathan grumbles and starts to wipe at his cheek with his sleeve, as Edward dramatically clears his throat. "Now it's my turn."
He pulls out a small box from his pocket, an emerald green bow delicately wrapped around it. You take it gently, undoing the bow and shimmying the box open.
Inside was a beautiful ring, clearly expensive. It held an emerald in the centre, but had a small engraved bird on the inside. You couldnt stop the tears that slightly form in your eyes as you gaze upon such a thoughtful gift.
“Edward I…I don’t know what to say…”
He smiles, you’d even have called it a genuine smile, and brushes some stray hairs from your face.
“How about a thank you?” He teases, to which Jonathan scoffs.
“Thank you Edward.” You giggle, and he mimes a bow.
“You’re very welcome darling.”
You can’t help but flush at the attention, taking the ring out and slipping it on your finger. The gemstone sparkles in the low light of your room, and you hold it up to get a closer look.
“Didn’t know you’d done that…havin’ us both represented I mean.” Jonathan says, his eyes glancing between the ring and Edward.
“Yes well, she’s lucky enough to have two of Gotham’s brightest and baddest doting over her, so she might as well have a representation of that.”
“Baddest? Didn’t know you were capable of speaking in grammatically incoherent sentences.”
“I was clearly saying it in jest, I thought my tone was evident. God it’s like you’ve never socialized with anyone apart from that damn crow of yours.”
“Well i appreciate it.” You say, cutting them both off. Giggling, you give Edward a kiss on the cheek before doing the same to Jonathan, but the more narcissistic of the two pouts.
“I got you an expensive ring, and all I get is a kiss on the cheek?”
Rolling your eyes, you lean over and capture his lips in a kiss, one that he quickly deepens. His hand cups your jaw, tongue licking at your lower lip as you swallow the slight mint taste of his mouth.
Jonathan shuffles along to be nearer, bony fingers tracing up and down your arm. His eyes roam your form, taking in the pretty dress you'd put on for the occasion. As Edward pulls away to pepper kisses along your jawline, he speaks.
"Did you wear this just f'us?"
You nod softly, as the two men smirk at your devotion, your eagerness to please even on your birthday of all days. Jonathan runs his hands appreciatively around your waist, feeling the soft material.
With a soft groan, Edward makes his way to your neck, sucking a soft mark into your clear skin. Taking the opportunity, your lips are captured by Jonathan's own, tasting the coffee and cigarettes that always permeates his mouth. The clear contrast between the two men always gives you whiplash in the best possible way, the two villains being so similar and yet so different.
It takes all of Edward's willpower to not just yank you into his lap, but alas he's learning to share. His gloved hands move to the back of your dress, feeling the zip and dragging it down a little, causing you to gasp into Jonathan's mouth.
"Edward..." you giggle, which elicits a chuckle in return.
"What? I believe we both owe you a more...intimate present."
He punctuates his words by zipping it down more and more, until your back is exposed. Jonathan laughs and helps, dragging the straps down until your tits spill out.
"No bra?" Jonathan remarks, before grabbing them before Edward could seize the opportunity. You arch into his touch, moaning softly as he circles his thumbs around your now erect nipples.
Edward decides to go to shimmy you further out of your dress, pushing it down and down until it hung loosely around your ankles. Now you were left only in your panties, which had grown embarrassingly wet at both of your boyfriend’s ministrations.
“Oh you wanted this, didn’t you darling? Wanted us to come over and ravage you for your celebration.”
You bite your lip, not wanting to admit you had indeed thought about it. Instead you can only watch as Edward starts to trail his hand up your bare thigh.
“Not even gonna take the gloves off?” Jonathan remarks, to which Edward returns a shit-eating grin.
“Would you be a dear and take them off for me?”
“Keep dreaming.”
You huff, reaching to take them off before Edward gently slaps your hands away. Instead he brings one to your lips, eyeing you expectantly as you gently bite and tug it off, repeating the same motion with the other one. He hums in satisfaction, and reward you by bringing two fingers to your clothed clit and starting to rub slow circles.
At your moan, Jonathan pinches your nipples just to watch you squirm, laughing to himself. He soothes them a little before leaning down and taking one into his mouth, sucking. You arch your back, before Edward decides to pull down your underwear and leave you completely exposed for the two of them.
“So wet…” he remarks, rubbing a finger casually up and down your soaked folds, before bringing it away and letting your slick shine on his fingertip.
“God she’s drippin’” Jonathan says in agreement, bringing a long finger down to do the same, only he dips his into your entrance a little, causing you to buck into his touch.
“Now now, no need to get impatient.” Edward says with a sharp slap to your thigh. “We’ll give you what you need. We always do.”
Whimpering at the slight pain, you still your movements so Jonathan can slip his finger inside. He groans gently at how tight you feel around his digit, moving it in and out in an almost experimental way.
Edward takes over fondling your tits, using both hands to caress and grab at the soft flesh. Soft little noises escape you, so Jonathan seeks to have you make more, pushing a second finger in and crooking them.
A gasp can be heard from your parted lips, and Jonathan keeps moving his fingers in and out, pumping them in a steady rhythm. The slick noises fill all of your ears, and Edward grins at the salaciousness of the act.
“I suppose we shouldn’t be too mean. It is your special day.” He teases, reaching down and starting to play with your clit in time with Jonathan’s fingering.
You nod in agreement, really wanting to get permission to cum. And both men seem determined for that to happen, with Jonathan bringing his free hand up to tweak at your nipple, while Edward’s free hand braces around the back of your neck, keeping you still.
The sensations get too much, and soon enough your cumming around their fingers with a soft cry, soaking the both of them. Edward moans the loudest, leaning down to get a closer look at when Jonathan removes his fingers with a soft squelch.
At your hole fluttering, the narcissist can’t help but move forward and lap up your cum with his tongue. You moan loudly at the sensitive feeling, but Jonathan clamps a hand around your hip to keep you from wriggling away too much. Luckily Edward doesn’t overstimulate for long, achieving his fill of your taste before pulling away.
“Now, I think the man who got you the better present should have the honours of fucking you first.”
“Bullshit, I was the one fingerin’ her. Besides mine was thoughtful.”
“As was mine! Luxury isn’t always cold you know. Well, of course you don’t know that, you wouldn’t know luxury if it slapped you around the face and knocked the stupid mask off.”
You can’t help but laugh softly. Even on your birthday, the bickering never stops. But as you lament that they both had great presents for you, so you can’t decide which one to choose…a wicked grin crosses their faces.
“Well if y’’can’t choose, I suppose it’ll have to be both of us.”
This was so much fun. I decided to post this early because I was just too damn excited.
Link to full piece on ao3 below!
Frustration swells in your chest, and you shift your weight, trying to catch his attention. You clear your throat, louder than necessary, and give a tight smile, fluttering your lashes. But Edward doesn't even blink. His fingers continue to tap rhythmically on the keys.
You’re right here, you know you are irresistible, and yet... he’s ignoring you.
The nerve. The audacity.
You let out a sharp, dramatic “hmmpf’, loud enough that even he couldn’t miss it. But Edward? He doesn’t flinch. He is zoned in.
You get it.
Edward’s a busy man with important things to do, traps to lay, systems to hack, people to exploit, blackmail, kidnap, torture, and Bats to squish. The weight of his world is heavy, and you understand that in a way only someone close to him can. He’s the mastermind of Gotham’s underbelly, always ten steps ahead, with plots and schemes woven into the very fabric of the city. He’s a man with a plan—always—and you’ve come to accept that. Admire it, even.
But he’s not all work and no play.
Edward loves you in his own way. He takes care of you. He spoils you in a way that says, “I own you, and I’ll remind you of it in every way possible.” And you can’t deny you enjoy it. Having someone to care for your near every whim – or at least having someone who possesses the money to have someone else do it.
Clothes, shoes, makeup, jewelry, spa trips, vacations, and biweekly manicures to get fill-ins for your acrylics – he will even pay for Harley to accompany you, indulging your whims regardless of his lack of care for a lavish lifestyle. Edward never really cares for the money - so he is content to spend it on you. You admit there have been times when you knew he wanted to say no, cocking a brow or eyes widening at a price, but a little pout, giving him your best doe-like eyes would generally solve the problem. If that didn’t work, then you had other means of getting what you want.
Like, that one time when you rode him good, like really good, and you asked for a car.
Your glossy lips twitch at the memory.
It was during one of your more heated nights, when you had him exactly where you wanted him—beneath you desperate and undone. It isn’t often that you top, being a true pillow princess at heart. But you were feeling particularly devilish that night, and you remember the way his fingers dug into your hips as you rode him in reverse, rolling your hips with a rhythm that had him teetering on the edge. You’d perfected the motion, a slow grind that made him grit his teeth and curse, a move that would give a pornstar a run for their money. You kept him right there, lingering in that blissful space between ecstasy and torment, knowing he would do anything for you if you asked.
“Mmmm... I want a nice one, Eddie…” you purred and looked back at him, your hair swaying with your tantalizing, effortless work. “A Maserati… with a custom lavender wrap… and snow-white seats.”
Blue eyes glazed, he looked up at you with a pitiful expression, utterly captivated, jaw slackened by the succubus on his lap. “Holy fuck… Anything you want, baby. Fucking anything… Just, please - hnng - don’t- shit - don't stop…”
And within a week, you were driving up to the Catskills with Harley in the passenger seat of your new dream car, just as you requested, the tinted windows down to let the cool breeze whip through your hair. And sitting in the trunk? A matching Louis Vuitton luggage set you hadn’t even asked for but definitely accepted with open arms.
But it’s not just the luxury or the gifts you get from his hard “work” that you appreciate.
It’s the power you wield over him, the knowledge that you can bring a formidable man like Edward Nigma to his knees with a look, a touch, a word whispered at the right time. It is thrilling, intoxicating even, to have that kind of influence over a man like him—to be the exception in his life.
It goes to your head.
Which is why him pretending you’re invisible right now is un-fucking-acceptable.
Any hints on what you are planning next? I'm gnawing at my cage over here.
Ahhhh you’re a sweetheart!!!!
There’s an idea I’ve had for a multiple part riddler story that I’ve been wanting to write for ages but keep putting off. But I’m determined to not let my insecurities stop me from writing what I personally like so I’m gonna start it.
I’m getting my nails done tomorrow and I weirdly always love typing when I have them on so I’m hoping I’ll be able to get a lot of words down! :)
I would LOVE to see you write a oneshot for Arkham City Eddie if you are interested? It's my birthday on October 18th and I just knew I wanted to request another piece from you to celebrate! You have full reign to make it as salacious as you would like. Fem reader, please, but could you maybe do a brat kink with pigtails or something? I love picturing him with a partner that acts like a brat just to get his attention. 😈
I appreciate you, friend!
Happy Halloween!!
Until the lights go down
Summary: Under Edward's protection in Arkham City, you quickly become bored of your routine, and hope to spice up your time by seducing your lover
Warnings: 18+ smut, fem reader (no use of y/n), dom!eddie, thigh riding, blowjobs, rough sex, slight threat at the start, threat of exhibitionism, praise + degradation
Words: 5k
Notes: Happy birthday to the lovely @adhdnursegoat !!! Thank you for being such a sweetheart for as long as we've been mutuals, I really hope you have fun with this, and most importantly have a great birthday! <3
Boring is not the word that you would have assumed would be your descriptor for the hellish megaprison you’d been thrown into…but as you lay on your back on the lumpy mattress, that’s the one that springs to mind. Boredom sets in like a rot, the latest gunfire from somewhere vaguely to the east of the building not even making you flinch like it used to anymore.
You weren’t completely sure how long both you and Edward had been here, although your lover was taken first. Watching the news in slight horror and anxiety as you saw the coverage detailing his move into the controversial new prison, more like a holding pen for the corrupt and the insane. Well…the corrupt, insane, and you. What both you and Edward weren’t planning on was how thorough Hugo Strange had been; Edward had never so much as whispered about your relationship to anyone, despite how much he secretly ached for Gotham to see how easily a man as intelligent as him could get a girl as pretty and devoted as you, but somehow Strange knew about you both. You’d been practically abducted and taken, chest heavy with your panicked breaths as you'd gazed upon the psychologist who had orchestrated this ordeal.
“Ah, Mister Nigma’s little pet. I wonder, will he protect you? Or will you be too much of a liability? A distraction from whatever twisted little game he hopes to play.”
His tone you remember was icy and clinical, head tilted as his eyes moved up and down you. You’d bit your tongue, knowing that any outburst may result in further injuries than just the bruises blooming on your arms beneath the guard’s tight grip. You looked down, but he stepped forward and gripped your jaw with a harsh cruelty. “I believe he’ll throw you to the wolves, that’s all a sociopath like him is capable of. You’re nothing but a foolish little girl for thinking he cares about you any more than a lapdog who satiates his primal needs.”
You couldn’t contain the death glare that you shot at him. He dropped his hand, leaning away from you before signalling to his guards, and before you knew it, you were in the lion’s den, so to speak. Forced onto the ground, you’d quickly scrambled to your feet as you adjusted to your surroundings. And as you noticed the eyes blinking at you from the streets.
With a shaky breath, you quickly assessed the situation. You knew you were the equivalent of fresh meat in here, only made worse by the fact they hadn’t given you another set of clothes, so there you stood in your skirt and jumper they'd kidnapped you in. Footsteps echoed behind you, a couple of men clearly wanting to intimidate you by jeering and laughing. Thoughts of breaking into a sprint had entered your slightly dazed thoughts, however you remember the sudden loud gunshot had seized your body up as you ducked. You quickly realised however, that nobody had been shooting at you, when you hear the inmates behind you quickly back away and speak.
“Fuck, I thought nobody had seen him in here. I ain’t getting’ involved.”
Confused, you looked up to see Edward striding towards you, confident as ever with a revolver in his hand. He didn’t say a word as he grabbed a hold of your arm and pulled you along, and you can’t deny the slight sadistic joy you got from glancing at the other inmates’ intimidated faces. Turns out he’d paid two of Penguin’s muscle to escort you both to his hideout, but he hadn’t spoken a word the whole way back, jawline stuck in a harsh line.
Once you were back, he’d lamented how stupid it was that you were here, how he didn’t have time to play the role of babysitter and keep you safe, how much of an imbecile Strange was for making such an enemy of him. But with a little difficulty, he’d assured you that he would, in fact, keep you safe, and the tight grip he’d kept on you that night confirmed it.
But now…now you were bored. You understand why he’s forbade you from leaving, but each day seems to bleed together into one long stretch of dullness. Edward barely had time for you, too busy concocting his masterplan, so that left you to wander around the building over and over again. He’d told you that you were beneath the iceberg lounge in an abandoned train-yard, but you couldn’t hear that much coming from outside apart from the occasional explosion.
So alas, you have the same shitty cold shower you do every day (although at least Edward’s hideout granted you the luxury of a shower in the first place) before getting changed. He’d given you some clothes he’d managed to obtain that vaguely fit you, but you decide to wear the outfit you’d been thrown in with. That’s when you hatch your plan.
An awful decision really, truly you were asking for trouble, but at least trouble was something interesting. So you tie your hair up in loose pigtails, rolling your skirt up for maximum effect, and skip down to where you know Edward will be. He’s sat, endlessly tapping away at his keyboard while observing the many monitors he’s set up to feed him information. You can’t deny you’ve always been impressed with his ability to multitask so well.
Scribbling some notes down on a scrap piece of paper, he hardly heard you come in until you lightly brush your finger along his shoulder and say in the softest voice you could muster, “Eddie, I’m bored.”
Taking a quick glance at you, he laughs. “You look ridiculous dear, I hadn’t realised you were so desperate for attention you’d attempt to replicate Harleen’s look. Do you expect me to be interested?”
You roll your eyes, letting your finger wander up and down his shoulder and collarbone beneath the tattered green suit jacket. “C’mon Eddie…I know you’re interested.”
“Just because I don’t want you to die an undignified death on the streets by some thug, doesn’t mean that I will drop all of my important work because you’re bored. Why don’t you dig deep into your limited cognitive capabilities and find something to do?”
“There’s nothing to do.” You lament, not being bothered by his usual condescending tone.
“And that’s my problem how exactly? Be grateful I’m letting you stay here.” Huffing, you sit up on his desk as he scribbles something else down. “Get off my desk.”
“Edward come on.” You whine, knowing you were acting like a petulant child, but at least he was actually acknowledging you.
He rubs the bridge of his nose, glasses falling down a little. “Do you have any idea what I’m attempting to plan here? What am I even saying, of course you don’t.”
“Tell me then.” You challenge, appealing to the narcissistic part of his personality that longs to be praised and recognised.
Eyes narrowing for a moment, he sits back in the chair and relents, starting to explain his plan. You hear him detail how he’ll kidnap the medical staff sent in to look after the welfare of the inmates, but you can’t help your thoughts drifting as he speaks. Always loving his voice, you allow your mind to bathe in the sound, eyes flitting over him. He’s clearly stressed, but when isn’t he these days? His tie hangs loosely around his neck, and your fingers itch to fix it…or to have him rip it off in a desperate haze before using it to bind your wrists. You blink your way out of those thoughts, as he’s still explaining the master plan, hands waving to solidify his points.
Your gaze flits to them, the dark purple fingerless gloves drawing attention to his digits, cleaner than they usually are, most likely due to his informants building whatever is left of the various contraptions, leaving his hands free to scheme. What you wouldn’t give to have those hands wrapped tightly around your throat, holding you in place as he uses you. Or perhaps have them drag along your trembling form, feeling the leather contrasting your smooth skin as they reach their crude destination. Or even have those long digits filling up your needy cunt, curling in just the right way that he knows will have you gushing all over his hand.
You notice he isn’t wearing a belt either. How easy it would be to just crawl to your knees, unbutton his trousers and have him gasping and gripping your hair as you-
“You really aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” His firm tone forces you roughly from your salacious daydream, blinking at him dumbly. Laughing coldly, he continues, “Really? Nothing to say? Maybe you’d have an inch more of an intellect in that pretty head of yours if you could restrain yourself from eye-fucking me every chance you get.”
Feeling the flush burn in your cheeks, you decide to double down. “Can’t help it. Not when you look so good like that.”
His eyebrows raise. “When I’ve been in a hellhole that doesn’t even have hot water, that is when you find me the most desirable?”
Others may not have noticed any change from your lover, but you know him too well. You notice the way his shoulders have relaxed slightly, how his legs have parted just enough for you to see. So you metaphorically pounce, moving off his desk slowly before straddling his lap, legs on either side of him, making the chair squeak slightly. “When we’ve been here and you’ve hardly touched me, that’s when. Can’t help that I’m needy”
He allows you to sit on his lap, hands moving to hold your hips gently. “Ah, my pet is feeling neglected is she?” His tone is mocking, but his wolfish grin and the way his eyes dart to your lips show he’s feeling just as pent up.
You make a noise of affirmation, moving to shift your hips over him. “Yes…you need to do something Edward.”
“Do not order me around.” He says lowly, tutting, “I think you’re forgetting who is in charge here.”
You smile, finally getting what you want. “Who is in charge?”
Letting out a slight groan, he grabs your cheeks in his hand, squishing them. “Oh you’re really playing with fire, my dear.”
You give him the most doe-eyed look you can muster before he kisses you roughly. Moaning into his mouth, you feel his tongue push into your lips, claiming you quickly and completely. It’s hungry and desperate, saliva being swapped in a way that would cause even the most provocative person to blush. In return, you do a more deliberate grind of your hips, feeling satisfaction as he bucks up into you instinctively. He pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you both.
“So your plan was to wear that stupid hairstyle and slutty skirt in the hopes you’d seduce me into giving you what you want?” he mutters, eyes taking in your body on his lap. Often, he looks at you like he can’t quite believe how attracted you are to him. He’d never admit it of course, to anyone who dared to find out, he’d boast about how natural it is for a gorgeous girl like you to pursue a man of such high intellect, charisma and looks. But deep down, he’s shocked that you desire him like you do, how you’d willingly be on his lap, pawing for his attention.
You nod, knowing it’s best to not lie in this situation, to which he chuckles darkly. “Oh sweetheart, you really are filthy, aren’t you?”
At your slight giggle, he leans and kisses up your neck before whispering into your ear. “I think it’s time I remind you that I’m in control…that I decide when you get touched, when you get pleasured. Not you.”
When you consent, he hums in mock thought, fingers tracing down to your hips, before reaching the soft skin just below where your skirt ends. He taps it a few times, relishing in the way you practically vibrate at the small contact, before reaching up and up to feel the material of your underwear.
“It’s a good thing a mind such as mine prepares for any eventuality.” He boasts, and your momentary confusion is dissipated when he produces a small knife from his jacket, cutting the material so it falls undignified to the hard floor. You pout a little, it’s not like you have an abundance of panties in here, before he moves the sharp blade to your thigh, gently tracing. “Problem?”
You shake your head quickly; you love being a brat sure, but you aren’t completely certain you want to unlock whatever sadistic desires he could have while holding a sharp object. Luckily he seems satisfied with your pussy now being out, but instead of touching it he simply places the knife back in his jacket before maneuvering you so you’re straddling his thigh. Gripping your hips tight, he moves you over the rough fabric of his trousers, before casting you a disinterested look.
“There, perhaps now you’ll be satiated by my mere frame while I continue my important work.” He says, but you don’t miss the cocky smirk that paints his face for a second as he speaks, before he quickly hides it.
Instead you let out a soft whine of protest, but the friction is too delicious to stop. So as he wheels the chair closer to the desk, his arm reaching to grab his nearly blunt pencil, you grip his shoulders and rolls your hips. A gasped moan escapes you, the whole situation coupled with how needy you’ve been for god knows how long means your cunt is alive with sensations that it greedily feasts on.
The only sounds from the room are your choked whimpers, the slow hum of the monitors and the scratching of his pencil on his notepad. You’re certain that there’s now a wet patch on the fabric beneath you with how much your pussy is leaking, begging to be filled or played with properly. Clit throbbing, you attempt to grind harder but it gives you little relief, so you press your forehead against his shoulder. You try to control your breathing, enough to formulate some plea, but deep down you know it won’t work. You’ll get your pleasure when Edward deems it time.
You aren’t sure how long you keep grinding, but your desperate moans increase in both frequency and pitch. He clicks his tongue at a particularly salacious noise that leaves your parted lips, and only then does he finally look at you; pupils blown so wide they’re like pools of ink, searching his body and face for anything that might free you from this pleasure-deprived prison he’s placed you in.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks condescendingly, and when you shake your head, a deep chuckle escapes him. “Greedy girl, you’re truly never content, are you?”
He grabs your waist roughly, stopping your movements before pushing his hand beneath your skirt and feeling the wet mess. “Soaked, as I predicted. I bet you’ve made a mess of my nice trousers haven’t you? Well, we can’t be having that. On your knees.”
You rush to follow his command, cheeks burning as he tuts at the discoloured fabric on his thigh. Still you do your best to look tempting as you gaze up at him, blinking slowly. He seemingly appreciates it, running a hand along your jaw. “You’ve distracted me from my plans by behaving like such a harlot, so it’s only fitting I treat you like one.”
As he speaks, he unbuttons and frees himself from his trousers, length springing free and your mouth practically waters in anticipation. But before you can taste it, he stops you. “No no…you have to make this worth my time, girl. Now ask me nicely.”
You swallow, attempting to formulate the words in your head before you start to beg. “Please Edward, please let me please you. I want to…I need to please you.”
He smirks. “Good attempt, but calling me my name is most certainly not what I want right now.”
Knowing his egotistical nature very well, you relent, the brattiness making way for a carnal need for him. “Please let me please you Mister Nigma, Sir.”
He gives you a soft pat on the cheek that you can only infer means you’ve done a good job before he allows you to part your lips and take the head in your mouth. Sighing in relief, you suck slowly before pushing forward to take in more, bobbing your head as you savour finally having his attention. He lets out a small groan of satisfaction that makes your clit pulse, so you keep going, dragging your tongue along the underside.
“Good…perhaps I’ve been using you wrong this whole time. Instead of seeing you as a distraction, maybe I should just chain you to the desk to keep as my own personal stress reliever. Ready to open her whore mouth and take me whenever I see fit. I’m sure my productivity would increase.” He brags, although the hand that currently isn’t stroking your hair is gripping the arm of the chair so hard you’re sure the knuckles under his glove are white.
You moan around him in response, the sounds of you sucking filling the room in an indecent cacophony. As you do, your body feels like it’s on fire, like any sensation would tip you over the edge. But you’re determined to make him come undone, blinking up at him as you take him deeper. The hand that was on the top of your head runs down to your jawline, before a wicked idea forms.
“Well, I suppose if you insist on wearing your hair like that, might as well make it useful.” He sneers down at you, before gripping both ends of your pigtails. You realise what’s going to happen, and you do your best to relax your throat as he pulls you down on his cock, using the hair like handlebars to move you as he sees fit.
He isn’t being as rough as he could be, clearly holding back from really ruining your poor throat. But he still pushes you down until your eyes water, feeling his cock reach almost the back of your throat before giving you the respite of pulling you back up to the tip. Edward lets out a small sigh, eyes closing for a moment before snapping back open. He’d never been able to deprive himself of the beauty of your face as he ruins it.
“Fuck…look at you sweetheart. Such a mess.” He says like he’s chastising you.
You can’t hope to respond, a small whine escaping you until his cock fills your mouth once more. Sure, he’s not overly big, but he prides himself on being big enough to completely fill whatever hole he deems suitable. Over and over again he uses you, until you blink away soft tears and suck in a particularly good way; a hiss escapes him and he pulls you off roughly, letting go of your pigtails.
“I suppose you’ve been good enough to warrant a reward, I’ll allow you the honour of sitting on my cock.” He says, trying to mask the real reason; that he was seconds away from blowing his load deep down your throat.
But you’re delighted you finally have the chance to feel him properly, in the way you’ve touched yourself every night you’ve been here thinking about. So you climb back into his lap, positioning yourself above him before he crudely uses his cockhead to rub your clit in circular moments. Moaning simply makes him chuckle darkly, cooing at you to “stop behaving like a needy whore and enjoy what I give you.”
Luckily he lets you finally sink down on him, feeling every inch stretch you open until you’ve taken him all the way. You both moan out, but you watch as he tilts his head back and enjoys the sensation of your warm cunt squeezing around him. He’s gorgeous like this, so unlike the demeaning supervillain he presents himself to Gotham as. You have no doubt you’ll see glimpses of that in a moment, but for now you enjoy how blissful his features are.
You experimentally roll your hips, making you both groan out, before you attempt to find a rhythm. He keeps a tight grip on your hips, clearly not wanting you to go too fast too quick, seeking to enjoy you for as long as he can. But you want to just ride him hard and fast, to chase your release until you’re making a mess all over his lap.
“Always so tight for me.” He grits out, and you bathe in the praise as you keep moving up and down. Your fingers dig in to the shoulder of his jacket, before he huffs and shrugs it off, leaving him in his off-white shirt and question mark tie. As you keep riding him, your hands trail down to his tie, idly playing with the material between your digits.
His grin grows as he looks at you. “So eager to strip me, or does the pretty girl have a lewder idea of what to do with my tie?” he says condescendingly.
When you just moan in response, he doubles down. “I could bind those pesky wrists behind your back, make sure you aren’t touching what isn’t yours. Or perhaps I’ll blindfold you, so you never know what your master is going to inflict upon you.”
His words cause you to clench harder around him, and he starts to play with your clit lazily as you move. With how pent up you are, your pace increases a little as his actions and words have you practically tasting your orgasm already. His hips twitch upwards a little, clearly fighting the urge to just take you all for himself in a mad rush. But how can he when you’re so close to coming undone for him, all by yourself?
“Oh look at that, is the big girl going to cum all by herself?” he smirks, his tone making you flush with embarrassment and arousal. But he’s right, with your body moving up and down coupled with his dexterous fingers toying with your clit, you were on the edge of orgasm.
As you nod quickly, he smirks and nods in return. “Make a mess all over me dear, just know I’m not going to stop until I achieve satisfaction.”
His words had trailed off in your mind half way through as you were too busy cumming on his cock, shaking and writhing in his lap. You slump forward, and he allows you the mercy of resting for a few moments before he bucks up into you, causing you to whine softly against his ear.
But he stops, his eyes darting to one of the top monitors, and a wicked expression crosses his face. “Be a doll and turn around for me, okay?”
You nod blindly at his instruction, turning so your back was to his chest before sinking back down on his throbbing cock. In your haze to do what he’d asked, you hadn’t followed his gaze to see what he’s looking at, not until he grasps your hips and begins to move you again do you glance upwards.
On one of the monitors, is one of his informants, dressed in what you think is Two-Face’s gang’s uniform, waving at the camera to get your lovers attention. Your breath catches at the sight, but Edward only chuckles behind you, not allowing you to slow down.
“Looks like we have an audience. Tell me, what’s to stop me from broadcasting a projection of what’s happening here outside on that wall behind him? Then he’d be able to see what a little whore like you does for my attention, for the riddler’s attention.”
His voice is deep and commanding, clearly the situation has stroked his ego in that all too familiar way, his grip almost bruising on your hips as he continues. “I think it’ll be good for the denizens of this wretched place to see who is really in charge, to remind them that my intellect has afforded me not just my reputation, but anything I desire. Including my cute little pet who offers herself up so willingly to me.”
His words are punctuated with guttural moans, his need now overwhelming. But he’d never pass up an opportunity like this, so he leans forward, one hand still holding you firmly in his lap and on his cock, before flicking a switch.
“Speak.”
“M-Mister Nigma, sir. I planted all them trophies ya wanted down in the courthouse, although I couldn’t do one of them, since I-I was nearly caught and-“
A particularly rough thrust upwards has you biting your lip after a small noise involuntarily escaped you, but you keep quiet as you try and control the rhythm of your movements. You’re glad you aren’t being projected for the man to see, but there is still the risk he’ll hear you. After all, you aren't sure how much the microphone can pick up, so he might be able to hear the soft squelch of your cunt as you move it up and down. Edward doesn’t seem bothered by the noise you made, simply rubbing your hips as he glares at the monitor.
“And you think this excuse will be useful to you? What the hell do I pay you for? I know a simple verbal instruction is hard for a cerebrally challenged monkey to follow, but do try and keep up.” He lambasts the poor guy out front, doing a remarkably good job of keeping his voice steady and even. But you can tell he’s getting off on the power of the situation; of having his lover servicing him sexually while he chastises one of the people who works for him.
“S-Sorry Mister Nigma, sir. I’ll get on it right away.”
Cruelly, Edward decides that now is the perfect time to move his hand up to tweak your nipple harshly, causing a whine to fall past your lips. You’re sure the man heard it, his features furrowing a little in confusion on the monitor before Edward flips the switch off.
With a grunt he lifts you off him before bending you over the desk and entering you in one harsh thrust yet again, the breath being knocked out of you. He sets a rough pace, clearly chasing his own release. All you can do is cling on for dear life as he uses you like a toy. The crude noises of your pussy being filled over and over again only serve to have you clenching around him in pleasure, your eyes forced to face the monitors. Forced to see just how much control Edward has over Arkham City, how much he knows about everything going on here as your eyes watch the inmates, and crucially how none of them know that he’s fucking you like a man possessed while you observe them.
“Fuck, it’s a shame I can’t fill you up while we’re in here. Guess I’ll just have to make you a filthy mess instead.” He grunts out, and you barely have time to process before he pulls out and quickly strokes himself to completion all over your ass. Both of your breaths can be heard heaving as you take a few moments to come down, the sensations still a gentle simmer across your skin. You hear him tuck himself away, fixing his clothes before you gently try and move.
“Stay.” He demands quietly, and you’re unsure why until you feel him gently cleaning his cum away from your skin with a spare rag. Once he’s done, he smooths your skirt back down as he helps you back into a standing position. Without uttering another word, he leads you back to the makeshift bedroom, settling you on the mattress to rest. You smile softly at the feeling of him taking care of you, in his own way. He sits on the edge, fidgeting with his hands a little. Getting comfy on the mattress, you go to reach out for him before stopping yourself, sensing something is…off with him.
“I…do in fact have something else for you. I was planning on giving it to you later, but you forced my hand.” He says suddenly, causing you to tilt your head in intrigue. Getting up, he rifles through a drawer you hadn’t thought to look in until he removes a small black box, with a slightly charred ribbon tied around it.
“I can imagine spending your birthday in a prison city wasn’t your ideal scenario.” He states, handing you the box as you look at him, shocked. You hadn’t even mentioned it was your birthday, not really thinking it was the right time in your current situation.
“You remembered?”
He lets out a scoff. “Of course I remembered, I’m no simpleton. I’m more than capable of remembering a date, especially when this dim-witted society places so much emphasis on someone’s date of birth.”
As you glance at the box in your hand, he continues with an awkward cough. “I confess I did have something a little better in mind. But it’s hard to procure items in here that aren’t of the firearm or explosive variety, and I didn’t factor into my plans our joint incarceration.”
With a soft smile, you move yourself into a seated position and tug on the ribbon before opening the box, seeing a simple bracelet in his signature shade of green. “Edward…it’s lovely.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” He says quickly, for once his eyes were trained to the ground instead of your face, “Again, not the gift I was planning for you but…well it’s the best I could do here.”
You’re truly touched, heat rushing to your cheeks as you smile lovingly up at him. “Edward it’s perfect, thank you.”
Shuffling, you wrap your arms around him into a tight hug, burying your face in his neck. You don’t care that you’re both covered in dry sweat, or that you both reek of sex, all you want is to be close to him. He pretends to huff at your display of affection, but he wraps his arms around you regardless, holding you flush against him.
cw: delicious sexual tension, tongue, lots of tongue
word count: 2,096
You sit perched on the edge of his desk, legs crossed, tapping the heel of your Converse rhythmically against the wood, a cherry lollipop tucked in your cheek. A heavy sigh seems to make your body slump even more.
Edward stands a few feet away, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixated on the sea of monitors that line the wall. He’s been at it for hours now, lost in his web of traps and riddles, the light from the screens casting a sharp glow across his angular features.
But you’re bored. And he’s been ignoring you.
So, you decide to make things more… interesting, indulging yourself for entertainment. Slowly, you bring the cherry lollipop to the front of your mouth, the butt of it poking out and the glossy surface glistening under the light of the room. After a soft hum, you give it a wet suckle, intentionally making a slurping noise, and slide it back into your mouth. The flavor actually your favorite, you let out a soft, contented moan that breaks the silence.
Edward’s head snaps to the side, eyes flicking to you in irritation. "Is that really necessary?"
You don’t answer right away. Instead, you twirl a strand of your pigtails around your finger, feigning nonchalance as you watch him through your lashes. You take the sucker in your reddened mouth before you pull it out with an exaggerated pop, the sound echoing in the room. When you finally speak, your voice is syrupy sweet. "Why, Eddie, is something bothering you?"
“No!” He huffs. "… Nothing bothers me…" He turns back to the monitors as if to prove a point.
A smug smile curves your lips. "Oh, really?" you purr. You drag the candy along the outline of your bottom lip, tracing it with a deliberate slowness as you observe him. His shoulders are stiff, his fingers clenching behind his back. “Because you seem a little... tense."
"I'm busy.” He grits out
With a low chuckle, you ease off the desk, taking a few languid steps toward him, coming so close you must look up. You let the lollipop dangle lazily from your lips, drawing it back into your moist mouth. Then, you suck on it with a lewd slurp, the sound wet and obscene.
"Must you?" he growls, finally turning to face you fully.
You give another extra juicy suck in retort.
Edward’s lips draw tight over his teeth, his eyes narrowing as they bore into yours, but you can see the subtle shift—the way his gaze flickers from your eyes to your mouth. He tracks the movement of your lips, the candy, and the teasing glisten of your tongue as you roll the lollipop along your flesh. His attention is drawn, despite himself.
"You should know by now your childish antics aren’t going to get a rise out of me," he snaps, voice tight.
But the flicker in his gaze says otherwise.
You arch a brow, feigning innocence as you drag the lollipop slowly across your bottom lip, tracing the outline before teasing it with a leisurely swipe of your tongue. His eyes follow the movement, and you can practically see his resolve crumbling, even as he tries to fight it.
“Huh… is that so?” you taunt, your voice low, teasing. You take another step closer, your body now just inches from his, so close you can feel the heat radiating from him.
Edward’s eyes snap back to yours, a flicker of something darker lurking beneath the surface. “Yes,” he hisses, though the slight waver in his voice betrays the cracks forming in his resolve. His gaze lingers too long on your mouth, his attention drawn to the slick sheen left behind by your tongue. He’s faltering.
You tilt your head, a wicked smirk playing on your lips, and you click your reddened tongue. “But you’re staring, Eddie,” you murmur softly, your voice a sultry whisper. “Like you want a taste.”
His jaw goes slack for just a moment, lips pressed tight in defiance, but you catch it—the brief widening of his eyes, the telltale flicker of vulnerability. For just a second, Edward Nigma, the Riddler, is caught off guard.
It’s a small victory, but you savor it.
Now that you have his full attention, you decide to make it worth his while. Slowly, you roll the lollipop around in your mouth, letting him watch as your lips close over the candy. The sticky texture of the sucker clings to your tongue, and you make sure every movement is deliberate, teasing. You pull the candy from your mouth again, letting the reddened flesh of your tongue peek out as it curls around the head of the sucker. The gesture is lazy, sensual, designed to tease every nerve in his fraying composure.
Edward’s eyes follow every flick, every twist, tracing the movements with that intense focus of his. His chest rises and falls unevenly, his fingers clenching at his sides. You take your time, letting each stroke of your tongue be slow and deliberate, drawing out the anticipation until you can practically feel his resolve teetering on the edge.
When you finally drag the candy down the length of your tongue, slow and deliberate, you catch his eyes with your own wide, demure gaze, watching for that flicker—the moment where control slips through his fingers like sand.
And there it is. His jaw slackens further, mouth falling open, blue eyes widening once more behind the frames of his glasses. The flush that starts on his neck spreads up to his cheeks and the tips of his ears, painting his skin in warm hues. You can see the storm brewing within him, the clash between his desire to lash out and his inability to form a coherent thought. His lips quiver as if to retort, to spit out a sharp remark, something to knock you off balance and reclaim his footing. But you don’t give him the chance.
The lollipop slides back into your mouth, your lips closing around it. You let out a low, throaty hum that vibrates through the air, your eyes never leaving his face. You see him shudder, his shoulders tense as if the sound of your moan itself has run a claw down his spine. The faintest tremble betrays him. His breath hitches, the sound almost inaudible, but you catch it. You always do. The hunger there is unmistakable—a fire stoked by your teasing, burning hotter with each second. Yet behind that desire is the struggle, the frantic attempts to conceal how badly he’s affected, how easily you’re breaking him down.
Edward swallows hard, and you watch his throat bob, the tension straining his jawline. "You..." he finally manages, his voice raw, choked with an edge of frustration. "You are an insufferable little girl," he forces out, the words coming in a strained whisper as if they had to claw their way out of his mouth.
“Oh, I know,” you reply, your voice saccharine before you hollow your cheeks and pull the lollipop free with another wet pop. The candy glistens under the light, sticky and slick, and you twirl it between your fingers, letting the movement taunt him.
You tilt your head up, rising onto the tips of your toes to close the last bit of space between you. His breath catches as your lips hover near his, warm and teasing. For a brief, telling second, his eyes flutter shut, and he leans forward, an almost involuntary reaction that betrays the crumbling of his carefully maintained resolve. It’s almost tragic how easily he falters, how the infamous Riddler—the master of riddles, control, and poise—now stands before you a quivering mess, swaying between irritation and desire.
Savoring the moment, you let your breath ghost over his lips, the faint scent of cherry lingering between you. His breathing grows shallow, chest rising and falling with each labored inhale, each struggle to keep his composure. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, you let the question slip past your lips, grazing his with the faintest pressure. "But isn't that why you love me, Eddie?"
His eyes snap open as you pull back, dropping your heels with a triumphant grin. With a deliberate motion, you slide the lollipop back into your mouth, watching as his gaze sharpens, the frustration and longing mingling into a near-blazing intensity.
"You’re playing with fire," he grits out, his voice low, carrying an edge of warning.
You can’t help but grin wider, letting the candy’s stick rest between your teeth as you clasp your hands behind your back in a gesture that exudes pure mischief. "Maybe," you mumble through the lollipop.
With slow, deliberate motions, you walk the fingers of one hand up his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt. He tenses under your touch, the tendons in his neck standing out as he fights to keep his composure. You reach the collar of his shirt and, with a coy smile, hook a finger into the material, tugging it just enough to see his flush deepen, the redness spreading like wildfire. "But it looks like you’re the one getting a little hot."
You can feel the tremor in his body, the way he goes rigid as you drag your nail down the side of his neck to his collarbone, stopping only at the first closed button of his shirt, the top few having been already undone. It’s a small gesture, but there seems to be a choked whine that he swallows at the sensation.
"Damn you," he rasps, the words thick with restraint. His eyes dart to your lips, the desire naked in his gaze, conflicting with the anger simmering beneath.
You giggle, a soft, lilting sound and pull the sucker from your mouth again with another wet pop. "Damn me?" you echo sweetly, rocking on your heels. You relish the way his eyes follow your every move, the conflict plain on his face as he stands there, trapped between wanting to flee and being utterly ensnared by you. "Eddie, I think you love it when I tease you. When I make you all..." You trail off, eyes sweeping over his face, noting the muscle that tightens in his jaw, the burning flush that colors his cheeks, and the wide, dark dilation of his usually bright blue eyes. You smirk. "Flustered."
His gaze narrows, but even that hard edge can’t conceal the helplessness within them. He’s fighting a losing battle, and the awareness of that defeat flickers across his features. "I am not flustered," he spits out, each word pushed past clenched teeth. Yet his breathy voice betrays him, the lingering way his gaze stays glued to your lips telling a much different story.
You let the lollipop fall back into your mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully, enjoying the power you have over him. His eyes follow the motion hungrily, the tension radiating off him in waves. You can see the internal battle waging behind his gaze—his desire to put you in your place clashing with his inability to look away.
"Sure you aren’t," you whisper around the candy, grinning up at him with an expression that is equal parts bratty and victorious. "But I think you’re lying to yourself, Eddie. You’re about to bust."
Edward chokes on an inhale, lips pulling tight over his gritted teeth, and his hands rise, twitching as if wanting to grasp you, to silence you, to do - something. "Y-you..." he stammers, very obviously wanting to throttle you. He takes a deep breath through his nostrils trying to regain his composure. His hands splay out in the air, a gesture meant to ground himself.
When he opens his eyes to a narrowed gaze, one of his fingers rises in an accusatory manner, nearly touching your nose, making you go cross eyed for a moment. Edward finally spits out, voice strangled and husky, each word dripping raw frustration, "You are a little fucking brat.”
"I know." Your hum is sweet and triumphant, the smile stretching across your face as you take a step back, and another. “But I’m your little fucking brat.”
Then, with a casual flick of your pigtail, you turn on your heel and walk away, hips swaying just enough to leave him fixated on every move. You don't glance back; you don’t need to. You can feel his eyes boring into you, burning with that volatile tumult of fury and desire that you’ve so expertly stoked. Left standing there, Edward shakes, his breath ragged, entirely at your mercy.
if you've got to spend your time, oh won't you spend it with me?
Summary: After a long day, Edward finds a solace in your bed that he can only get from you
Warnings: gn reader (no use of y/n), just fluff, like one sex reference
Words: 1.1k
Notes: Just a small thing I wrote while I wasn't feeling too great.
Feeling sleep claw its way across your body, settling in your dreary mind, you trudge along to your empty bed with weighted shoulders. But something's missing, something's always missing as you climb under the covers, settling onto your mattress. The duvet is heavy and plush on your skin, but the empty space next to you, where the duvet settles upon the bed instead of enveloping the warm body of your lover, is starkly noticeable to you as your eyes adjust to the dark.
You don’t know where Edward is, you never really do. The worry used to drive you crazy, settling in the pit of your stomach as images would flash in your mind of him being captured and sent back to Arkham, or beaten bloody, or worse. But you knew you had to put your trust in him, in the intellect that he prides above all else, that he claims will always keep him out of too much trouble.
So alas, the worry dissipates but makes room for a different kind of feeling to wash over your conscious mind; longing. You missed the feeling of him beside you, holding you and pressing you tightly against his chest. While you’ve spent many nights pondering the morality of finding comfort in the arms of a criminal who’d caused so much pain and destruction, the selfish part of your personality had won out whenever you think about the heat of his body. The soft kisses reserved just for you, at night when nobody is around, when his walls crumble just enough to feel comfortable sharing the burden of his mind and aching joints.
The memories weren’t helping you get to sleep, so reluctantly you sit up and switch the lamp on. As light fills the room, you get an idea as your bleary eyes blink. You get up, heading to your wardrobe and finding what you were after, quickly grabbing it. His jacket, a shade of dark green, had been left by Edward when he’s last visited your apartment. You doubted he even noticed, with how many tailored suits he has, from muted shades of green to more garish and outlandish outfits that never fail to make you giggle. Bringing it to your nose, you can still smell the expensive cologne he wears, and it brings a slight flush to your cheeks as you press it close to your chest.
While he isn’t a particularly strong man, he nevertheless was broader than you in the shoulder department, coupled with his height meant that as you slipped your arms in the expensive fabric, it hung a little loose around your form. Either way, you’re more satisfied as your crawl back under the sheets, flicking your lamp off and getting comfortable. While it wasn’t the same as him really holding you, it was enough for now as the scent lulls your mind into a dazed and relaxed state.
Edward was tired. Exhausted even. He staggers out of the warehouse, cursing at the slight drops of blood that speckled his waistcoat. It’ll be the last time he utilises one of Penguin’s men for a while, the corpse of his informant now floating face down in the river. But hours of being hunched over laptops and city architectural plans had taken its toll, since heaving the larger man into the river meant his spine felt splintered and sore. He straightens up, cracking his back and groaning a little at the relief. As much as he hated to admit it, he knows how exhausted he is, how much his body is crying out for rest. He supposes the rest of his plan can be continued tomorrow, as he makes his way over to his car and turns on the ignition. Going home, that’s where he needs to go, that’s where he tells himself to go…but he knows he won’t.
He almost wishes this was the first time he’d driven on autopilot to your apartment, striding inside and unlocking your door. To admit otherwise would be reiterating the fact that he cares, that he’s come to crave your presence and your attention just as much as you do for him. That is a weakness he can’t bring himself to stomach, and he knows he should cut you out like an overgrown weed from his life. But Edward Nygma is a very selfish man. And the selfish aspects of his personality would never deprive himself of you. Everything about you, the warmth of your smile, the softness of your skin, the way your voice would sound as he brought you and himself to ecstasy over and over. He could never give that up, and as he walks into your room and starts to shrug his jacket and shirt from his shoulders, that idea cements.
Stripping to his underwear, he climbs in next to you, slinging an arm around you gently but pausing as he feels the fabric. In his haze he hadn’t actually observed your resting form, and as his eyes adjust to the dark, he sees you curled up, his suit jacket wrapped around you like a lover's caress, like his caress. He momentarily feels relief at the darkness that shrouds the room, so you can’t see the uncharacteristically soft smile that traces over his features. You’d sought comfort in his clothes, in something that reminded you of him when he wasn’t with you.
With a single finger, he traces some hair from your forehead and smirks. “If you’re attempting to pretend to be asleep, you’re doing an awful job.”
You laugh softly, going to turn to face him before he stops you by laying properly on his side, arms clutching you tight to his chest. The feeling makes your skin tingle, relaxing in his hold. “What time is it?”
“Late” he answers lowly, and you feel the tension in his muscles fade as his breathing slows.
“Good day?”
He pauses, and you expect to get the same nondescript or egotistical answer that of course it was, he’s the riddler. But instead he mutters, “No…not really.”
A little shocked at his answer, you debate whether to respond, but you figure he wouldn’t want to discuss it…not tonight at least. So you gently press a kiss to the part of his arm you can reach, before closing your eyes gently.
But Edward doesn’t close his eyes, now fully adjusted to the darkness. He presses his forehead against the back of your head gently, but not before taking a last lingering look at your form, so perfectly wrapped in his clothes. It’s hard for him to believe right now he has you in his arms, and how content he is at that fact. The old him would have scoffed, laughed even at how soft he’d become. The great Edward Nygma, reduced to such common feels like affection and-
He stops himself from thinking of that last word. Not yet. But as he feels your chest rise and fall rhythmically, feeling you fall into blissful unconsciousness, he figures he won’t be able to push back the painful reality for long.
☆ summary: A lost bet allows Edward to use you as he sees fit, when he wants and how he wants.
kinktober '24 ☆ main masterlist ☆ ao3
Turning the temperature of the thermostat up a few notches, you shiver as another gust of cool air blows across your naked frame. The dishes from last night’s meal lay in a messy pile to the side of the sink and you quickly drop them in the basin before filling it with hot water, squirting a healthy amount of dish soap to begin cutting through the grime.
Despite your shiver at the chill, every inch of your body feels warm and primed with anticipation as you listen to Edward pottering around as he completes his work for the day. A lost bet had gained him a prize for the day and his prize of choice had been free use of you as he saw fit.
It was a choice which had made your cunt instantly damp at the very thought of being made to remain nude for the remainder of the day while he gained free access to each of your holes and everything in between. However, a little of the spark had shifted into annoyance when his first demand had been that you take responsibility for the dishes.
Prick.
Dipping your hand into the hot, bubbling water to scrub some of the accumulated filth from the pot, you startle in place as a firm hand gropes at your ass – fingers digging into the soft skin before trailing up your back to push your upper body forward slightly.
Breath catching and arousal back in full force at how casually he positioned you into something more comfortable for him to fuck, you stand with your legs further apart and groan as he sinks a single finger deep within your cunt to test how ready you are for him.
Edward enters you with one firm thrust and you’re instantly thankful for the mild arousal which already coats your hole as you can feel that his cock is dry and uncaring of how prepped you are to receive him.
His arm comes to wrap around your waist, pinning you against him as he keeps his cock buried within your cunt – the burning stretch of him forcing a stuttered sigh from your lips as you spread your legs a little further to ease the pressure.
“Keep cleaning,” he demands roughly, lazily thrusting away at your cunt as every cant of his hips makes your heels lift slightly off the ground.
Returning to your task, the fact that he is using you so freely while expecting you to continue with your chores is as much of a turn-on as you thought it would be – heat dancing along your skin as you picture how fucked-up and domestic it would look to any observer.
He’s not gentle and the force of his groin slapping your own causes you to drop one of the plates back into the basin, hot water splashing up from the sink and onto your bare chest.
“I should have known you were too incompetent to do something as simple as washing dishes. A menial task which even a chimp could achieve,” loving the sound of his own voice as always, Edward can’t help but humiliate your simple actions and you clench your cunt around him in response.
“Sorry, sir,” you apologise with a gasp as his balls slap harshly against your cunt. Buried as deeply as possible, the stretch of him is delicious but frustration claws at your throat as you feel the heat of his release shooting deep within your cunt. You were nowhere near close, his aggression only just shifting your feelings from discomfort to pleasure and you grunt in disappointment as he pulls free.
Empty, hot, and immediately feeling his release trickling free of your battered cunt, you diligently start to stack the washed dishes on the rack as Edward leaves without another word. The temptation to drop your hand between your legs and stoke the dwindling fires of your arousal is high but doing so would probably piss Edward off so you resist for the moment.
Abandoning the dishes to dry naturally, you stroll casually to one of the two armchairs which litter the main sitting area of his workrooms. Dropping to the fabric with a sharp exhale allows your body to relax for a moment as your fingers grasp at the nearby table in a sightless attempt to snatch up your mobile phone and mindlessly scroll through some social medias as you enjoy your downtime.
You can hear Edward working, the sound of clanking metal being interspersed with vaguely audible grumbles of discontent as his project refused to bend to his sheer will. A quick glance over the top of the armchair confirms that his attention is elsewhere, his goggles missing from the top of his head, and so you feel safe enough to drop your hand to your cunt.
Swiping across your upper thigh, you gather up some of the mess there and bring it to your lips – instantly tasting the mixed arousal which stains your skin as Edward’s release continues to drip free of your hole to spread across your shifting thighs. Another swipe of your fingers gathers more of the mess and drags it back up to your cunt, your palm laying flat against the swollen, sensitive flesh as you push it against your clenching hole.
Lost in thought as your other hand clenches around your phone, you don’t even realise that Edward is standing to the side of your armchair watching your palm press against your cunt until it’s too late. His rough hand wrapping around your wrist makes you startle in place as you find yourself pulled from the chair you are lounging in.
Looking up, you catch Edward’s eye for a moment before he uses his grip of your arm to drag you over to his work bench.
Wordlessly, he forces you to your knees and pushes down roughly on your shoulder until you dutifully shuffle your way under his desk – your cunt throbbing with neglect as you realise what he wants from you. The floor under his work bench is uncomfortable, covered in some unknown grit which presses into your knees and makes you grimace as you struggle to find a way to lessen the discomfort.
“Unzip me and do what comes naturally, slut,” Edward says and the casualness of the insult has your teeth biting at your lower lip as your trembling fingers swiftly free his cock from its confines.
His cock is dry to the touch but visibly stained by your earlier fuck and arousal. He’s already hard, a fact which you find genuinely surprising given his recent release but you know better than to question it as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock and pump along his length gently.
A sharp hand colliding with the back of your head makes you gasp and you glance up at Edward with a questioning look to find him looking down at you with his googles pushed back up to his hairline.
“If I wanted a hand, I could have serviced myself, silly girl. Let’s put those useless lips to work and if you prove yourself worthy then we will see about a reward.”
His jaw and vest are stained with some dark liquid which could have been oil or grime and you can’t help but glance at it. Two warm fingers drop to grip at your jaw as Edward tilts your head painfully high, the strain on your neck making you grimace, and the intensity of his gaze as it pins you from his lines face makes your cunt throb with need.
“Now!” He continues and his lips stretch into a mocking smile as he drops your chin and pats you on the head like some kind of pet.
Shuffling forward on your knees, you use your hand to pull his cock to your mouth as you instantly lick a wet line up his pulsing shaft. Slicking his length with your tongue, you rub your thighs together as the familiar taste and scent of him fills your senses, that masculine smell which clung to his skin driving you wild as you struggle to please him.
Edward audibly grunts as you suck the head of his cock between your lips and his ass raises slightly off the chair as he pushes himself further within your mouth. Able to control his movements slightly, you adjust the bobbing of your head to ensure that you don’t choke on his length and have to pull free – taking the time to steady your breathing through your nose.
You work him over with determination, every suck of your hollowed cheeks pairing with your tongue as you flick it across his length and leave his cock a mess of saliva and pre-cum. Edward’s efforts to maintain composure are strong but you can hear the soft grunts and exhales of his lips as you take him into your throat.
It proves too much for him and you panic for a moment as his hand drops to hold your head in place roughly while he comes. His release is hot as it pumps down your throat and you are able to pull free enough to cough and splutter as the corners of your eyes water with the effort.
Edward gives you no time to recover as his fingers grip at your shoulder again and pull you from your kneeling position with an obvious, yet silent demand.
Following his hand, you find yourself draped across his lap with your hands pressing against the floor as your ass and neglected cunt hang off the other side of his legs to give him easy access to your holes. His wilting cock presses warmly against your side and you can feel how rapidly his chest is moving as he struggles to control his breathing.
His fingers plunge into your cunt without care, your walls squeezing his digits desperately, and the obscene noise of how wet you are makes fresh heat flare along your skin. Still worked up from your early fuck and sucking him off, it doesn’t take long before your legs are tensing and your breath is huffing in sharp pants as you hold off your release until you get permission.
“Please let me come?”
“Maybe later,” Edward teases and his fingers pull free of your hole in an instant, leaving you on the edge as a frustrated howl breaks your lips. The tension flitters away quickly and you find yourself painfully aroused and again in need of some attention as you squirm against his legs.
“Eddie, pleas-” A plea which is put to rest as his hand collides with your ass in a sharp slap which stings for only a moment.
“Be quiet or I’ll fill that mouth again and maybe you’ll pick up some braincells from what I make you swallow. I have work to do and I will continue to amuse myself with your warm yet pathetic little body as I sort through my calculations.”
Unable to deny his wishes due to your lost bet, you scowl at the floor even as your voice offers up a submissive agreement.
dededos
andulkaphoto
turnnoffyourmind
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