#edward nashton/you

[starlightsearches]

some creepy disgusting boyfriend!dano!riddler below the cut uwu (18+)

The thing that’s so delicious about having Eddie as a boyfriend is that you don’t realize anything is off about him until it’s waaaaaaaaaay too late.

Like how, on your first few dates, you get the feeling that he’s learning everything about you for a second time — from your usual coffee order to the last vacation you took. The way Eddie nods, thin lips pressed tight together, holding back from finishing your sentences.

It’s how you’re operating under the impression that Eddie’s just really shy, that he doesn’t like to talk about himself that much, and that’s why he’s always hanging on your every word. But that doesn’t explain why he’s showing up at your work with all these ostentatious gifts — huge bouquets of your favorite flowers and pastries for you to share on your lunch break.

It’s in the way he fucks you for the first time like an animal, breathing so hard in your ear it sounds like he’s growling, pawing at your body with inconsiderate hands, leaving you with bruises across your hips and a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach when he cums seconds later. Then Eddie spends the rest of the night with his face between your thighs, both desperate and insistent that you cum at least three times. Which he manages, despite how clumsily he gropes at you.

Somehow, he knows what positions you’ve been imagining the nights you’ve been alone, starts to sound like the videos you search up on your private browser.

It’s the time you were at his apartment and borrowed his computer while he took a shower, opened the screen to find your own Instagram page, logged in on your account.

For the first time you notice that all the photos from your trips to the beach have been removed from your feed and archived for private viewing. There’s a whole list of guys who used to follow you, clogging up your blocked list.

When you show Eddie what you found, and tell him that it’s fucked up, he cries so hard you’re sure he’s gonna choke.

With his hands wet from tears and dripping snot, he grips your wrists, pulls you close until you’ll meet his eyes.

For the first time, you’re scared to be around him.

And a few minutes later, you’re the one apologizing to him, pulling him into your chest and stroking your fingers through his hair until his breathing slows.

But that night isn’t even on your mind a few weeks later. So you don’t think to watch Eddie’s reaction when an old friend stops you on the street and gives you a hug that lingers just a little too long, wrapping his arms low across your back.

Eddie’s quiet for the next few days, but he gets like that sometimes. And he snaps out of this funk quicker than the others, coming home from work, giggling while he pulls you close and dots kisses all over your cheeks.

You don’t read the obituaries, so you never do find out about your old friend, or how he jumped from a bridge only a few nights after you’d seen him.

Eddie nuzzles his face into your neck, still breathless from his release, tasting your skin. When he whispers “you’ll never leave me,” you give him a yes without thinking.

And it’s too late before you realize that it wasn’t a question.

[jester-step]

idk about you guys but in my head each version of the riddler has their own shade of green, based mainly on their most iconic look (for the non-podcast versions) but also on pure Vibes

[lycazart]

I wait for a hint of dawn, to know that I’ve made it through another night

[itsbait]

[creaman]

Peacocking noun [u]

1. Ostentatious dress or behaviour employed by a man in an attempt to impress women.

… or another man.

[gl1tchr]

I need more Edward of Arkham like dad body, please please please I BEG U

Jonathan Crane is the richest man alive

[thatoneartistinthecorner]

Batman doodle dump cuz I forgot to post them 💀

[cchrss]

Who's the cute guy with the gazillion blankets and the thick accent? Maybe it's THE EDOODLE OF THE DAY

[cl3fairyyy]

i have not stopped thinking about this image since it dropped. it haunts my thoughts 24/7. i have to pay tribute to it before bed every night. i have a shrine in every room of my house dedicated to it. i will never be the same again.

[broccolipaws]

I’m just a phone call away :)

[starlightsearches]

I am That Somebody that asked for a part 2 to “Mail’s Here” and I am so (possibly futurely) excited you have no idea 😈

Special Delivery

READ PART ONE HERE

Hope you enjoy, bestie!! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated 💖

Warnings: smut (18+), hand job, tummy riding, finger sucking, frottage (finding the actual term on google was a fucking nightmare), blasphemy and religious undertones, SUB! EDDIE, dom! reader, lots of "good boy"s, language, let me know if I missed anything 😙

"You have to tell me what you like, Eddie."

Not likely. He can barely remember his own name.

Your body dents the mattress beside him, resting on your side, naked except for your underwear slung low on your hips. He can still feel the brush of your t-shirt taking the place of your mouth as you split from those feverish kisses, baring your tits and the soft skin of your stomach to his hands. You let him touch you with his clumsy fingers, left him burning from the inside out.

And now those same fingers are wrapped up in white-knuckled fists, watching the turn of your wrist as you tug at his cock, bouncing your hand over him with slow, teasing strokes.

"Dunno," he manages through gritted teeth, cheeks hot with shame, "never- never done this before."

You laugh, but it's not a mean sound. "You watch porn."

You don't say it like a question. Eddie flushes, flooded with the strange sensation of knowing his worst fears and greatest fantasies are not only possible, but real, and happening—and that the walls of your apartment are thinner than he'd hoped.

He hums something that sounds like a yes, hips twitching a little when you reward him with a long, slow stroke all the way to the tip.

"So what do you like in the videos you watch?"

Girls that look like you. He's not going to say that, of course. You don't need to know how often his eyes had caught on your chest, wondering how close he'd gotten with the video he'd chosen the night before—if your tits would bounce the same way hers had, how the pitch of your moans would compare if you let him pet his fingers over your clit.

"I like it, um," —he flushes again; you've moved in closer, hovering just out of reach of his lips. Even when he cranes his neck he can't make them meet. Your hand stops, fist circled around the base of his cock, and he does buck his hips this time—hoping you might keep going if he shows you that he's desperate enough.

It doesn't work. You stay still, watching him, waiting for an answer from his wet pink mouth.

"I like it when the girls are mean," he blurts out.

You don't laugh like he thought you would. You raise a brow instead, leaning a little closer.

"Mean how?" you whisper.

Mean could suggest a lot of things. He thinks about taunting words and skin reddened by the palm of your hand, the sting of impact against his cheek. He thinks about you refusing to even touch him, watching the tears streak down his face, about denying him his release, about using him until you've had your fill and leaving him unsatisfied.

And maybe he would be interested in that, but not now.

"Just, I- I like it when they're, uh, in- in control."

The pace of your hand quickens, and it's almost too much, the muscles in his lower abdomen tightening in a desperate attempt to keep from bursting all over you. Eddie yelps at the feeling, and you quiet him, tongue pressed sensually past his teeth, petting at his own until you return to the teasing strokes from before.

"Like that?" you ask.

He nods, humming under his breath, trying to keep himself intact, trying not to think about the way his cock throbs against your skin.

"But I also like it when they're nice."

The words rush out, and he shuts his eyes tight. Your lips brush up against his cheek.

"You gotta be more specific, Eddie."

"I just,"—fuck, if he were on his own, he would have cum at least twice by now, shucking his cock in his fist despite the pain, but you seem to know exactly what it takes to keep him from his release—"I like it when they say nice things."

"Oh."

He can tell by the way you say it that you understand what he means. Can feel your comprehension in the brush of your body, the soft embrace of your thighs around his waist when you straddle him, and his cock flops against his stomach when you plant both hands against his chest. He makes a sound like he's dying when you lean in close. Maybe he is.

Eddie's cross-eyed trying to focus in on your features, even though it hurts when you're close like this.

"You want to be good for me?" you whisper.

God. You understand him. Just like he knew you would.

"Please."

Eddie feels the catch of the damp fabric between your thighs, hips rolling sinuously over the pudge he carries just above the line of his boxers. He can’t think. He’s got no words, tense from head to toe when you grind down against him, a sigh heavy on your lips.

“Are- are you . . . ?”

“If you want to be good for me, Eddie,” you say, overpowering any thought he might have had, “then you can’t cum until I do.”

Jesus Christ. He hadn’t been creative enough any of the thousand times he fantasized about you. Looking like a dream while you get yourself off—using him like a toy, like a cheap piece of plastic. Your own personal fleshlight.

God, his eyes roll back, vision blurry behind the steamy lenses of his glasses. His hands travel your body like he's got you memorized, following the rhythm of your body when he grips at your waist.

You brush his hands back down to the sheets. "Did I say you could touch?"

You circle your hips again, and Eddie whimpers. He tries not to think about the way your spend is painting the golden hairs just below his belly button, how your tight little hole must be fluttering underneath the cotton with the way he’s making you feel. Him.

“Wanna be inside you,” he mumbles, sitting up just enough to let his lips brush at your collarbone, "need it."

“Not yet, Eddie,” —hot breath feathering through his hair— “gotta make sure you can last, first.”

There's little chance of that. He's not even stroking himself and he still feels like he's going to spill everywhere just watching you ride him, his room filled with the sloppy sounds of your wet pussy. Your moans grow louder—almost pornographic, but he's certain that these are real.

Eddie watches you, with your eyes closed, lips parted, shining skin turned toward the light. You look like a saint, caught up in some holy ecstasy. This is what he had always wished he would feel when he prayed. Wanted. Chosen.

Your body shifts again and again—rocking the bed each time you move and Eddie whimpers when the swell of your ass brushes the dripping pearls of cum off the head of his dick.

"God, please!"

There are hot tears streaking down his face. He's not brave enough to grip your hips the way he wants, fucking force you onto his dick the way he needs. Begging is all he has.

When your body slows, Eddie is sure he's done something wrong—can't stop himself from thinking about all the groveling he'd have to do just to get you to stay in the same apartment as him so he can pilfer dirty underwear from your laundry bin.

But he feels the weight of your body on his cock instead, that singing, stinging feeling he's been so desperate for, hardly anything between your skin and his. And the drag is sublime—your warm, wet pussy lips gliding back and forth over his flushed and aching dick.

You fall on him with a messy and open-mouthed kiss, a deep humming moan, and he thinks that means you've cum with the way you're shaking. But he has to be sure.

"Can- can I?" Eddie asks. Some part of him must be superhuman that he can even manage to resist.

You nod, chest pounding. "Cum for me."

As if he could ever feel this way for anyone else.

Eddie's hot cum paints your skin and his, sticky like he's trying to glue the two of you together, lungs full of a sound high-pitched and raw. You quiet him with two fingers in his mouth, his teeth scraping against your knuckles. You use your other hand to brush the hair from his forehead.

"Good fucking boy."

And if you hadn't just drained him of every ounce of cum, he'd shoot off another load right then.

Eddie's whole body rocks when you fall onto the mattress beside him, body glistening like marble where his spend paints your skin. He's never even dreamed about getting this far. He's not sure where to go from here.

But you take care of that, too.

Fingers folded into his, you stroke your thumb over the juncture between his fingers.

"So… thai for dinner?"

[melonefelone]

Hello my 3 riddler followeds that are still here….

I offer my riddler interp again before I run forever again

If you know me no you dont…

[starkidsimping]

something about a socially inept man with glasses sighs dreamily

[rowrowronnie]

felt like painting him again

[danosrosegarden]

I’m still think about nashton going ape on a flesh light. Give us the whiplash baybee!!!

wear me out, turn me on - edward nashton x gn!reader headcanons (NSFW) ౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚♡

{contents ♡ bit of fluff, male masturbation, toy usage}

{word count ♡ ~700}

♡ a hot sheen of shame was already sizzling like oil in a pan on his reddened cheeks before he even took it out of the package. it was almost as if he'd already used it. his trembling hands. the skipping of his heart.

♡ edward really wasn't one for porn. the videos smelled like plastic. they felt thin and easy to break through. cellophane. it just wasn't appealing. he'd much rather think of you.

♡ a good roommate in gotham was his biggest, brightest blessing. work peeled his skin away and his thunderstorm brain ripped out the exposed guts. he was so used to life washing out any droplets of happiness that ran through his blood, he assumed joy just wasn't for him. but then there was you.

♡ you brewed him coffee early in the morning. you sat with him in warm, thick, comfortable silence when he came home deflated from another exhausting workday. you even helped him work through the tough clues on his crosswords. he knew the answers already, but it was cute to see the cogs turn in your brain as you sifted through possible options.

♡ your friendship was something he held gently in his cupped hands as if it would shatter into pieces if he squeezed too hard. it was wholesome. it was sweetness. it had also been his masturbation material ever since you moved in together.

♡ it was your fault, really. it's not like he was sending out requests for a gorgeous roommate with twinkling eyes and a beautifully beaming smile with a wonderful sense of humor and a soft heart of kindness. it just happened.

♡ the littlest things set him off. you breezed by him and he caught a whooshing slash of your scent? suddenly he needs the bathroom for a few minutes. you were doing laundry and he saw a peek of your underwear hanging out from your basket? he needs to get something from his room real quick. he'll be right back.

♡ he'd never used something besides his hand to help out before. so he takes his time. he runs his finger along the silky smooth silicone. he wonders what it would be like if it was his fingers on you right now. how you might shiver at his gentle touch, how you might bite at your lip when he gets close to brushing against a sensitive spot.

♡ it's a good thing he's home alone right now, because he's loud when he finally gets his new toy wrapped around his flushed cock, already lubed from the dribbles of precum running down. the squeeze is warm and tight, and he thinks of you, you, only you, as he drags his hips back and forth.

♡ he can't help the quivering words that climb from his throat. they spill out between high, breathy whimpers. god, that feels so fucking good. you feel so good. please, please, please.

♡ he's trying to hold back, trying to wipe the light dusting of sweat that's causing his glasses to slip, but it's difficult when he finally has something to help him imagine what you'd feel like if it was you around him. he feels it brewing and bubbling up in his gut. his hips stutter and shake, his breathing is loud and jagged, and the groans pouring from his mouth are just pathetic. if it was really you, he'd try harder to last. he'd be good for you. but now, in this moment, he didn't give a fuck about any of that. he wanted to be selfish, chasing his pleasure with a bounding, sweat-soaked sprint.

♡ he tries to bite down on his lip, but the whining cry comes tumbling out anyway as his orgasm engulfs him. he doesn't care if anyone in the complex heard his muffles moans. he doesn't care that he probably looks wrecked. he doesn't even care that thick streaks of cum are dripping down the opening of the toy and onto his hand. it felt good to be greedy.

♡ in that moment, it didn't matter to him that he may never work up the courage to make his filthy dreams turn into truth. now he had something to at least help him pretend, and he couldn't wait to cook up more fantasies to play with.

[lemons-pears]

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holy maria stands watching the flames;

soon, this whole city will suffer my pains.