#i was gonna call it ambush but then i kept thinking about yj!eddie lmao

[finniestoncrane]

I was thinking, most of the riddlers might enjoy being manhandled by a vigilante s/o or crush because they're so touch starved but what about daddy oz? I don't see many (or any) fics about about him getting manhandled (maybe cause he's a unit of a man)

Do you think maybe he'd like to get roughed up a little by a vigilante he has a crush on? (maybe pushed onto the floor and straddled 👀 holding his wrist above his head)

Manhandled

Farrell!Penguin x GN!Reader, word count: 1k lmao yeah i think if you smacked a riddler on the cheek for being a pain in the ass they'd definitely cream so i get this! so get ready for some flustered, embarrassed and very aroused ozzie getting his ass handed to him 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff: grinding, violence, some punches, suggestive

It was time to stop being soft with Oswald Cobblepot. It never worked. The man was charming, almost intolerably so. Any efforts you made to reason with him, to find out some insider information, or to catch him in a web of his own making, always ended with a wink. Leaving with nothing new, nothing worthy, and red, flushed cheeks.

And despite your silly little crush, you were finding it easy to stay focused as you hid in the ceiling above his office. You kept your mind on the task at hand, reminding yourself that you were capable of this, of taking him down. Because he deserved it. Not so much because he was a bad guy doing the usual bad guy things, more so because you were hurt.

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Everyone had been insistent that he had a thing for you, that he liked you, and to use that to your advantage. Sure it was annoying that he flirted constantly and left you confused and turned around usually, but eventually, he might work up to asking you on a date if you just kept yourself looking gooey-eyed anytime you approached him for some intel. But the longer you spent hanging around his associates, listening in to his conversations, bugging his office with microphones and cameras, you realised that you weren’t special.

Oswald Cobblepot was just like that with everyone. Flirty, charming, complimentary. There wasn’t a single person who went into his office, or even walked by him, who didn’t get a “how you doin’, sweetheart” or a wink. But as damaging as that revelation had been to your ego, it had done wonders for your ability to push past that soft spot you had for him. Now you could use your hurt to access the rage you held for thinking you were special. And you intended to use that to your advantage.

As soon as the door was closed, you were down and charging to him, taking him by complete surprise as you slammed your first up into his jaw. With a deep groan, he clutched at his face, silently, as though he were trying not to alert his goons, determined to sort out this little problem on his own. That was one of his weaknesses. His ego, his self-image. And you knew he couldn’t handle you by himself, evidenced by the fact that he was so busy focusing on the pain of his chin that he missed your next blow to his stomach.

Once he was hunched over in two, clutching at his gut, groaning softly in pain, a sound that was tugging at the remaining sympathy within you, you knew you could end the ambush. A few more hits at each other as you struggled, but you had him, knocking him backwards and landing on top of him on the floor. With your body planted firmly at his hips, legs on either side of him, you grabbed at the flailing hands that tried to strike you, pinning them above his head.

In the silence, finally still, you both panted heavily after the struggle. And only as he regained his focus, finally able to take in the surroundings, eyes adjusting to the dim light, did he recognise you.

“Oh, kid! It’s you! What’s the deal, huh?”

“Don’t ‘kid’ me, Oswald.”

“What are you talkin’ about? We don’t operate like this, you and I we got a thing going, no?”

“I’ve had it with our thing. I’m here to do my job.”

Realising you weren’t about to let up, he began struggling again. But you were steadfast, solidly pressed to him, and you adjusted yourself lower down his body to be able to better control his legs.

“You’re stronger than you look, sweetheart. Now, you think you could get off me, eh? Let an old man up off the floor? We can talk like adults?”

“Give me some credit, Oz. You can’t think I’m that stupid.”

“No, I just need you to move yourself even, shift back up a little bit, I’m beggin’ ya.”

“So you can kick out and escape, think again, Ozzie. You know, I thought you thought better of me but evidently you-”

As you shuffled further down, your body came to rest on the reason he was so desperate to have you off him. A distinct tenting in his pinstripe suit trousers, bulge pressed against you, impressive… and flattering.

“Listen, I’m sorry, sweetheart, I tried to get you offa me.”

“You like violence or something?”

“Or something…”

You stared down at him, lifting his wrists a little and thumping them back down, wriggling your body against his cock, watching his face contort in pleasure and disdain, embarrassment.

“Ah, alright, alright! I like…”

Waiting, you held your breath.

“I like you, kid. Now come on, what is this, middle school?”

He made a concerted but fruitless effort to shove you, but you pressed down on him harder, your chests stuck together as you lowered onto him, hands tighter on his wrists, nose almost to his as he stared up at you, flustered, cheeks red, sweat beading on his forehead. You were right all along, it seemed. There was something different between the two of you and you had managed to cajole it out of him, all it had taken was some brute force. And you were definitely not about to let the opportunity go to waste.

“Look, kid, I’ll do whatever you want, ok? I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, but you gotta stop tormentin’ me like this. How ‘bout every time I tell you something you loosen this grip a bit, huh?”

With a wide grin on your lips, you leaned in closer, forehead to his. He swallowed his nerves audibly, his chest heaving under you as his breath shuddered.

“I think I might be able to think of a better reward system, Oswald.”

Before he could get the words out, you had your lips on his, unable to control yourself any longer.