#riddler x fox

[gilverrwrites]

My horny ass has been watching Gotham again.

A-Z Gotham Men* and how they fuck you.

*like 75% of Gotham men: Alfred, Bullock, Butch, Ed/The Riddler, Jerome, Jervis, Jim, Lucius, Maroni, Penguin, and Zsasz 🖤

18+ MINORS DNI

Almost everything Alfred does is practiced, and purposeful and despite all his training, he’s still rough around the edges. But when he looks into your eyes, when he hears his name on your lips, all of that hardness and posturing dissipates. He tries to praise you but it comes out all muddled and breathless. So he worships your body as best he can, gently brushing your most sensitive parts with strong calloused hands, rocking your bodies together until you’re as lost as he is. Sometimes he does it with those white cotton gloves still on, and he neglects to clean them for days after because he can still smell you on them.

Bullock talks a big game, but he’s not the man he used to be. Still, what he lacks in youth, he makes up for in enthusiasm. Swollen lips kiss and suck at you, wherever he can find, his scruffy facial hair leaving beard rash on all his favourite parts. Firm, clammy hands pull and grope and guide your body, showing you how he likes it done. “Oh yeah, ooooh yeah, baby.” He pants between ragged breaths and clenched teeth, “Feels so fucking good baby, just like that.” When he’s done he wipes you down with a wet cloth and a cheeky grin, offering to buy you a drink he’s needed since you started.

Butch is big and sturdy and such a good boy. Butch is happy to say whatever you want to hear, to do whatever you want him to do, for you to use his body however you need to get off. “Anything for you Ma’.” He gets high on the scent of you, whimpers when you touch his cock, and eagerly licks up any mess he’s made, whenever, and wherever you allow him to. He’s at your service, just tell him what to do, so long as you shower him with your praise and adoration when you’re done. He especially loves it when you run your fingers through his hair, and plant your kisses behind his ears.

Ed is curious and attentive. His voice is shaky as he asks “Is this okay?” “Does that feel good?” “Is all this because of me?” His long fingers tentatively exploring every inch of you, in and out, memorising every jerk of your body, retaining every noise you make. He refuses to cum until you’re ready, until you’re fully entwined and engrossed in each other.

But The Riddler knows you’re needy. The Riddler takes advantage of that desperation, because it makes you dumb and mailable. He uses your body for his pleasure, he knows where to twist and pull to make your walls wet and tight around him. When you try to speak, he shushes you, cups your cheeks in gloved hands and coos; “I know, I know. Don’t speak. Just take it.”

Jerome is unpredictable. Some nights he’s a tease, making you beg and plead for your own defilement. It’s an act, entertainment, and you’re his favourite performer. When you’re good to him, he’s good to you, but when you’re bad, he’s really really bad. But it’s hard to be good, because he likes to move the goalpost whenever he senses you getting comfortable.

On other nights he’s clingy, and dutiful. He uses you to keep his cock warm, cradling you, swaying your bodies back and forth, inching himself deeper and deeper inside of you, and laughing into the crook of your neck.

Jervis is composed, and poised. He rolls his sleeves up and lets his hat sit askew while you ride him. Likes to watch the way you wither and pant, your eyes grow more and more vacant each time you work his cock deeper into your burning core. Likes to whisper and woo you with his sweet nothings. “Aren’t you a treasure? Fucking yourself for my pleasure?” It’s such a thrill to watch you come undone for him, especially when you’ll unravel yourself willingly.

As to be expected, Jim is the vanilla type. The quiet type, the strong and sturdy type. He makes love to you like it’s his duty, holding you down in missionary or the mating press as he hammers into you in powerful, uniform thrusts into your both coming undone, your name escaping his lips in an atypically soft whisper when he finishes deep inside you. What’s less expected is his oral fixation. Jim likes to relieve his stress by loosing himself between your legs, by licking and sucking and biting all the parts that make you flinch. He likes to know he’s left his mark on you, even if it’s confined to the places only he can lay his eyes on.

Lucius is like the cat that got the cream, grinning the whole time, every time. No matter the place or position, he peppers your skin with kisses, the curl of his lips evident with each press of his open mouth. He likes it slow and deep. Holds your feet over his shoulders and sink in until you can both feel his tip press against your cervix. Tell him how good that feels, smile back at him and he’s a goner. He likes to finish in your mouth, likes to watch the way your body perks when his cock twitches against your tongue, the way your expression softens, and your lids grow heavy when his thick, warm cum hits the back of your throat. You can barely roll over to grab the tissue before he’s on you again, ready to assault you with yet another round of smile-laden kisses.

Maroni likes a show, likes to be entertained, likes to know he makes you feel good without barely lifting a finger, he’s just that good, you know? So he lets you grind against him, or lets you ride him, nice and slow. He might play with your nipples when he wants you to make those pretty little noises, or press your tongue down with his think fingers when he wants you to be quiet. After you’ve found your release he holds your hips in a vice-like grip as he bucks up into you, deceptively fast for a big guy, until he unloads wherever he sees fit.

Penguin fucks you in a frenzy, high on your body, using you like every time is the first and last chance he’ll get. He ruts into you in short, sharp movements. He likes to see you on your knees, worshipping at his feet, taking him in whatever hole he pleases. He likes to rub his cock on your face, likes to mark you with his musk. When he speaks, it’s between shallow, harsh breaths, he begs demands that you call out his name, again, and again, louder and louder, ensuring everyone knows you belong to the King of Gotham.

Zsasz doesn’t care about your pleasure or comfort. In fact, it’s your pain that gets him off. Zsasz will fuck you dry so he can watch you flinch. He pinches, and wrenches, and grabs you like a ragdoll. He enjoys choking you until your neck is bruised and swollen, until you're crying deliciously salty tears that he loves to lick up. He likes to cut you on those fleshy, tender parts, likes to see your deep red blood on his pale hands. He loves to fuck you until you’re shaking, until you’re sore and overstimulated and begging him to stop.

[oloote]

Ughrhrh nygmosbddsdtw

[dysmorgahtzed]

little wip of Them

[wingedqueenlynx]

I doodled this piece for the holiday season. He thinks he's sly with it hehe

Ah yes, making a custom riddler trophy adorned with a piece of mistletoe will definitely cause her immediate downfall- maybe not in the way he thought XD

Get showered in affection loser! 💚🧡

[baicalpascal]

They deserved to rule Gotham together, they deserved to be able to be together. They didn't deserve 10 years apart

[jeromeclarke107]

The look on Oswald's face in this ep when he sees Ed checking himself back into Gotham is fucking SOULCRUSHING holy shit.

Also the fact that we didn't get a kiss in this scene is homophobic and a hate crime. Gotham I will take your ass to court.

Like we should've gotten a kiss the minute the Riddler resurfaced. Not because Ed isn't hot for Oswald he absolutely is, but because I feel like the riddler is far less repressed and worried about masculinity/heteronormative culture.

They both want to make out with Oswald (I mean they are both Ed after all), The Riddler would just be the first one to actually do it.

Anyway.

FUCK YOU GOTHAM YOU COWARD

[finniestoncrane]

2.5k Event Request - Gotham!Riddler x Fem!Reader word count: 780 a/n: good GOD an excuse to write soft eddie in that transition between goober and... violent goober lmao i think he needs to fuck the anger out of hi cw: degradation, rough sex, bruising, forceful, lil bit of choking 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

The seemingly sweet and usually placid Edward that you knew was long gone by the time he had begun to bottom out inside of you. His hands, the same ones that nervously fidgeted with his glasses and felt clammy the moment you touched them were now gripping your waist, pulling you down onto him as he fucked you senseless with a reckless abandon you hadn’t thought possible of him.

But there was a lot on his mind, a lot of tension to rid himself of, and he was apparently using you as the method of relief. A stress ball, there to take his aggression, his cruel words, the hatred he felt for you and the rest of your colleagues, all sinking into you, as deep as his cock.

“That’s right… you’ll take it hng I knew you… wanted it… Too ashamed ah… ah… to admit it in front of the others? God… A shameful little whore, hm?”

And to think you’d only agreed to a date on a whim, unsure of how it might affect your standings in the food pyramid that was the GCPD. Finally agreeing to a date with Edward Nygma if only to stop him from hovering around your desk, causing the others to whisper and point. It felt cruel to you, but it deflected some of the same cruelty from yourself. Under normal circumstances, his awkward mannerisms and neat appearance would draw you in, but the threat of becoming the focus of the adult bullies of your workplace had kept you distanced from him.

Now, you realised what you had been missing as you stared up at his face, teeth biting down on his lip before gritting together. Flecks of saliva foaming from between them, landing on his lips and your cheeks as he seethed. His well-kept hair falling down in front of his face as his movements grew wilder, faster, harder.

You might have been the object of his affections, but you were still another in a long line of people who refused to take him seriously, despite his obvious, at least to him, superiority. And while he’d been nervous at first, hands lingering on your waist as you pulled him into a kiss, he’d loosened up. Now he was quite happy to let you know exactly how he felt, his words punctuated by grunts as he thrust his hips into you.

“I’m better than you. I’m better than them all! You should be thanking me! You should have been the one begging for my attention.”

Where his fingers dug into your skin, you could feel the telltale signs of bruises forming. A dull, sweet ache that warmed your core, only heightened when one hand broke free and reached for your cheek. He cupped it, palm sweaty and hot, before he let his fingers slide down to your throat, stroking along the front of it, a threatening movement that had your breath catching as you waited for what you hoped was coming.

And then his slender, surprisingly strong fingers tensed around your neck, choking you, a strangled moan escaping with the last of your breath.

His glasses slid down his nose, and with his eyes no longer shielded by the glare on the lens, you could see deep into them, the pain, the anger, the lust. All of it accompanied by the self-satisfied and smug sneer that crossed his lips.

“I thought you’d be filthy… a little bit naughtier than I could even imagine. But you’re downright disgusting.”

His cock was buried deep inside of you, barely moving as he refused to shift backwards, only rutting into you, his head tapping against your g-spot, filling you and stretching you.

“You do like this, don’t you?”

You nodded, unable to speak, only just managing to catch your breath.

“Use your words, come on. You’re not that stupid.”

Struggling to push any sound out, you were pathetically grateful when he eased up a little, lifting his fingers to admire the red marks that were forming on your skin.

“I like this.”

“Of course you do. Everyone wants someone to take charge. Someone better than them. Eventually, you’ll just be one of hundreds that will take me for who I really am. But you’re lucky right now. You’re… special, in a way.”

His cock twitched inside of you, throbbing with arousal at his own egomaniacal praise.

“Well… the polite thing to do would be to thank me.”

“Th-thank you?”

That genial, sweet smile you were familiar with appeared once more, genuinely warmed by the appreciation he was so desperate for, the kind he never got, before he began thrusting once more in his quest to ruin you.

“You’re very welcome.”

[myds-little-corner]

arkham riddler!

[h4unted-d4rling]

TW, talks of menstruation and sexual content mentioned

Eddie would have sex with you on your period and he’d get all scientific about it like “the reason sex helps with cramps is that sexual activity releases endorphins that relieve them!” And the aftercare KING he is he would clean you up after the fact <3 he’d go to the store to get you pads/tampons and chocolate and tea <3

Like bro does not think it’s “unhygienic” like he would def be like “it’s a natural thing darling! it’s okay!”

HE WOULD TAKE SUCH GOOD CARE OF YOU

you are in the safest hands with him <3

[letgomypartypiece]

it is so important to me that both ed and oswald can canonically play the piano and sing

[ophanum]

THE MOON WILL SING - ! Edward Nygma

Edward Nygma x Doctor!Reader

"I shine only with the light you gave me..." - The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives

A game begins

The fluorescent lights of Arkham Asylum buzzed overhead, casting cold, clinical shadows along the sterile halls. Dr. Evelyn Harper moved with practiced ease through the labyrinthine corridors, her lab coat swishing at her sides as she reviewed the notes on her newest patient. Edward Nygma. Riddler. A man whose mind was as sharp as it was dangerous.

Evelyn had been working at Arkham for nearly three years, her specialty in criminal psychology and neurocognitive therapy making her one of the youngest rising stars in her field. Yet, despite her academic accolades, she’d never come across a mind quite like Nygma’s.

She paused outside his cell, taking a steadying breath before stepping inside. The room was dim, lit by a single bulb overhead. Edward sat on the bed, legs crossed, fingers steepled in front of him. His eyes flickered to her the moment she entered, scanning her, calculating.

“Dr. Harper, I presume?” he said, his voice velvety smooth. “I’ve heard rumors of a ‘brilliant mind’ joining the Arkham staff. I hope you don’t disappoint me.”

Evelyn smiled politely, unphased by his arrogance. “Mr. Nygma. I trust your accommodations are comfortable?”

He gave her a languid smirk. “Comfortable is subjective, doctor. What’s the first question on your mind? I can tell you’re dying to ask something.”

She sat down across from him, pen poised on her clipboard. “I’ve read your file. You seem to believe that your intellect places you above the law. Why, then, do you continuously seek validation by creating puzzles for others? Isn’t the admiration of a lesser mind beneath you?”

Edward’s eyes gleamed at her words. “You’re already trying to crack the code, aren’t you? So many doctors before you have tried to analyze me like some kind of specimen, but you, Dr. Harper… You seem to understand the game. You realize that it’s not about the puzzles themselves, but about who can solve them.”

Evelyn leaned forward slightly. “Then let me ask—are you seeking someone who can solve them? Or are you waiting for someone who can outsmart you?”

For the first time, Nygma paused, considering her words. His expression softened, just a fraction, and something flickered in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps. Evelyn noted it immediately. A crack in the facade.

“Well, Doctor,” he said, leaning back against the wall with a casual shrug, “if you think you can outwit me, by all means, try. But let’s make it interesting. You ask me your questions, but for each one, I’ll give you a riddle. Solve it, and I’ll answer honestly. Fail, and I get to ask you something.”

She smiled, intrigued by his proposition. “Agreed.”

“Wonderful.” Edward’s grin widened, excitement shining in his gaze. “Here’s your first riddle: I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?”

Evelyn barely hesitated before responding, “An echo.”

Nygma’s smile twitched—just barely—but Evelyn saw it. He was impressed. “Correct,” he said smoothly. “Ask your question.”

“Why do you crave validation?” she asked, her tone calm but direct.

He seemed to consider his response, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee. “Because there’s no fun in being the smartest person in the room if no one else knows it. I thrive on the acknowledgment of my brilliance. It’s a flaw, perhaps, but we all have those, don’t we?”

Evelyn nodded, absorbing his answer. “Fair enough. Now, your turn.”

He studied her carefully, eyes flicking over her features with the intensity of someone deciphering a code. “Why did you become a doctor at Arkham, of all places? You’re clearly too bright for this rundown institution.”

Evelyn paused. It was a question she’d asked herself many times. “I wanted to understand the minds that others were too afraid to engage with. People like you, Edward.”

His expression shifted slightly at the use of his first name. No one ever called him that here. It was always “Riddler” or “Nygma.” But somehow, when she said it, it felt different—like a part of him that had long been buried beneath layers of riddles and ego resurfaced.

Their sessions continued for weeks. Each day, they exchanged riddles and questions, probing deeper into each other’s minds. Edward found himself looking forward to their time together, not just because she challenged him, but because she didn’t treat him like a puzzle to be solved. She saw him. The man behind the riddles.

And he found himself drawn to her. The way her mind worked, the way she answered him without hesitation, the way she always kept her composure no matter how convoluted his riddles became. She was a challenge—and Edward Nygma loved challenges.

A crack in the armor

One evening, Evelyn sat across from him, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows on her face. Edward watched her closely as she reviewed her notes, tapping her pen against the clipboard.

“You’ve grown quiet today,” she remarked, looking up at him. “Not like you.”

“Perhaps I’m thinking,” he replied, tilting his head. “Or maybe I’m enjoying watching you work. You’re much more interesting than the dull minds I’m usually subjected to.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in her expression. “You sound almost sincere.”

“Perhaps I am,” he mused, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through his usual bravado.

She set down her clipboard and leaned forward slightly. “Tell me, Edward… what is it that you really want?”

He hesitated, for once unsure of how to answer. The truth was, he didn’t know. He had spent so much of his life chasing recognition, proving his genius, that he had forgotten what it felt like to want something—or someone—for no other reason than because they made him feel… alive.

“You,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I think I want you.”

The admission hung in the air between them, heavy and unexpected. Evelyn blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his honesty.

“Edward…” she began, but he cut her off.

“I know what you’re going to say. That it’s inappropriate, that I’m a criminal, that this can’t work. But you and I… we’re alike, aren’t we? You understand me. You challenge me. No one has ever done that before.”

Evelyn sighed, conflicted. She couldn’t deny the connection they had formed over the past weeks, but she knew the dangers of becoming involved with a man like him. Yet, there was a part of her—small, but growing—that was drawn to him too.

Before she could respond, Edward leaned forward, his voice low and intense. “I’ll give you one more riddle, Dr. Harper. Solve it, and I’ll never bring this up again. But if you can’t…”

“What’s the riddle?” she asked quietly.

He leaned even closer, his breath ghosting over her skin as he whispered, “I am not alive, but I grow; I don’t have lungs, but I need air; I don’t have a mouth, and yet I can drown. What am I?”

Evelyn’s heart raced as she searched for the answer. It was one she knew, buried somewhere in the recesses of her mind.

Finally, she looked up at him, her voice steady. “Fire.”

Edward’s eyes widened, and then he laughed—a genuine, surprised laugh. “Well done, Dr. Harper. Well done.”

But in his eyes, she saw it—the fire he had spoken of. The spark that ignited between them, dangerous and consuming.

And Evelyn knew this was only the beginning.

After their sessions, Evelyn found herself lingering in the common areas of Arkham, taking solace in the quiet moments where she could breathe. One day, after an especially taxing session with another patient, she was surprised to find a cup of coffee waiting for her on the small table where she often worked.

It wasn’t the institutional coffee Arkham served, but something far richer, darker, and clearly from the outside. A riddle was scrawled on the napkin beneath the cup: “I run but never walk, I have a mouth but never talk. What am I?”

She smiled, glancing around, half-expecting to see Edward watching her from some unseen corner. Of course, he wasn’t there—he was locked in his cell as always—but the gesture was unmistakable.

Later, during their session, she mentioned the coffee with a raised eyebrow. “You’re becoming predictable, Edward.”

He leaned back in his chair, looking almost smug. “Am I? I doubt that.”

Evelyn shook her head but didn’t press further. The truth was, she enjoyed the small acts of thoughtfulness. They were strange, certainly, but they were also his way of showing affection.

The next day, she left something for him: a crossword puzzle, tucked into the file she handed the guard to deliver to him. It was filled with clues only Edward could solve—questions about quantum theory, obscure literature, and, of course, riddles. At the bottom of the page, she wrote, “For a mind as sharp as yours. Don’t disappoint me.”

The day after, she found the crossword returned to her, completed in flawless handwriting, with a note attached: “I never disappoint. —E.”

Weeks passed, and the boundaries between doctor and patient blurred further. Edward’s riddles became more personal, less about testing her mind and more about understanding her as a person. In return, Evelyn found herself revealing pieces of herself she hadn’t shared with anyone else at Arkham.

Then, one night, after a long shift, Evelyn returned to her office to find something unexpected: a single red rose, placed neatly in the center of her desk. No note, no puzzle, just the rose.

It wasn’t hard to guess who had left it.

The next day, when Evelyn entered Edward’s cell, she didn’t bring it up right away. She simply sat down, opening her notebook to begin their session.

Edward watched her with a quiet intensity, waiting.

Finally, after a long pause, Evelyn spoke. “The rose. Why?”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “Isn’t it obvious, doctor? Even the most dangerous minds can appreciate beauty.”

Evelyn felt her breath catch for just a moment, the weight of his words settling over her. There was something more in his eyes—something deeper than just admiration for her intellect. It was unspoken, but undeniable.

They were no longer just playing a game of wits. This was something else entirely.

Chapter 4: Unraveling

Their relationship continued to grow in the shadows of Arkham’s cold walls. It was in the small gestures—the way he left her puzzles to solve, the way she’d bring him books he requested, the quiet moments they spent in each other’s presence—that they built something unexpected.

But with each passing day, Evelyn knew they were walking a dangerous line. She had always prided herself on her professionalism, her ability to keep emotional distance from her patients. Yet, with Edward, that distance had evaporated, replaced by something fragile and complicated.

As they sat across from each other, their gazes locked, she realized that what had started as a game had turned into something far more real.

But how long could it last before everything unraveled?

Edward Nygma was not a man easily impressed. He had spent most of his life surrounded by mediocrity—people who couldn’t comprehend the brilliance of his mind, who were blind to the sheer genius that flowed effortlessly through every fiber of his being. But Dr. Evelyn Harper was different.

From the moment she first sat across from him in that cold, sterile room, clipboard in hand, her eyes steady and unwavering, she had intrigued him. Most people were quick to dismiss him as a dangerous lunatic, a mind too twisted to be understood. But Evelyn? She saw him—really saw him. And that was something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Her intelligence was the first thing that caught his attention. Evelyn wasn’t like the other doctors who had tried, and failed, to “fix” him. She didn’t condescend or patronize, and she certainly didn’t shy away from his riddles and mind games. No, she embraced them. And every time she solved one of his carefully crafted puzzles, Edward found himself more enthralled by her.

He watched the way her mind worked—the way her brow furrowed when she was deep in thought, her lips pressing together as she unraveled his challenges with an ease that made his pulse quicken. There was something undeniably captivating about seeing her in action, watching the gears turn behind those sharp, calculating eyes.

But it wasn’t just her mind that intrigued him. It was the way she moved, the way she carried herself with a quiet confidence that drew his gaze like a magnet. The way her fingers tapped against her pen when she was thinking, or how she would sometimes bite her lip ever so slightly when she was on the verge of solving one of his riddles. Every little gesture, every subtle shift in her expression—it was a puzzle in itself, and Edward found himself craving more.

Late at night, when the asylum was at its quietest, Edward would find himself lying on his cot, replaying their conversations in his mind. Her voice, calm and collected, echoing in his thoughts like a melody. He would go over the way she had looked at him during their sessions—those moments when their eyes met and he could almost feel the unspoken understanding pass between them.

It wasn’t just intellectual curiosity anymore. It had grown into something more—a fascination, a desire. He found himself thinking about her in ways that went beyond their verbal sparring. He wondered what her hair might feel like if he could run his fingers through it, how her skin would feel beneath his touch. Would she be as soft as she seemed, or would she surprise him with hidden strength, just like her mind always did?

He imagined her sitting close to him, not across the table, but right next to him, where he could feel the warmth of her body. His thoughts would drift to what it might be like to lean in, to brush his fingers lightly against her cheek, to watch her eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise. Would she lean into his touch, or would she pull away, teasing him with that same calm composure she always wore?

But there was something darker, too, lurking beneath the surface of his thoughts. A desire that went beyond just kissing her, beyond simply holding her. He wanted to possess her—to claim her mind, her body, her very essence. He wanted to unravel every part of her, to know her in ways no one else ever could.

He wondered what it would be like to have her completely—to hear her gasp his name in the quiet of the night, to feel her tremble under his touch as he explored every inch of her skin. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, his pulse quickening with the sheer intensity of it.

He imagined the way she would look at him in those moments—not with fear, but with that same quiet understanding she always had. She wouldn’t be afraid of him, no. She would meet his gaze with those sharp, intelligent eyes, and in them, he would see not just desire, but trust.

And that, more than anything, was what drove him mad with longing. The idea that she would let him in, that she would open herself up to him, mind and body. That she would surrender, not out of weakness, but because she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

The tension between Edward and Evelyn had reached its peak. Days blurred into nights, and the space between their sessions felt charged with an unspoken intensity that neither of them acknowledged aloud. Edward’s thoughts were consumed by her—her sharp mind, her quiet grace, the way she challenged him in ways no one else ever had. But more than that, he found himself intoxicated by the thought of her body, the softness of her skin, the quiet yearning that lay behind her steady gaze.

And Evelyn? She wasn’t blind to it. The way his eyes lingered on her, the subtle way his voice softened when they spoke—it was all so clear. A dangerous line had been crossed, and deep down, she knew that neither of them could pull back from it now.

It happened one night after a particularly long session. Evelyn sat across from Edward in his cell, their usual back-and-forth a little more subdued than normal. She had been distracted, her mind occupied with thoughts she shouldn’t have entertained, thoughts of what it would be like to give in to the pull between them.

She stood to leave, but Edward’s voice stopped her.

“Evelyn,” he said softly, using her first name—something he rarely did. “You’ve been… distant.”

Her hand hovered on the doorknob, her pulse quickening at the sound of her name on his lips. She turned slowly to face him, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, and for a moment, she felt a flutter of nervousness in her chest.

“I’ve been busy,” she replied, her voice steady but quieter than usual.

Edward rose from his seat and took a step closer, his movements slow, calculated. The tension in the air was palpable, crackling like electricity between them.

“No,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper. “It’s something more than that, isn’t it? You feel it too.”

Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest. She wanted to deny it, to keep the professional distance they’d both maintained for so long. But there was no denying the truth any longer. The line between doctor and patient had been blurred beyond recognition, and there was no going back.

She could see it in the way Edward’s eyes softened as they locked onto hers, the way his lips curled into the faintest of smiles, as if he already knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked yet.

And for once, Evelyn Harper had no words.

Before she could think, before she could rationalize the consequences, Evelyn took a step forward. And then another. Until she was standing just inches from Edward, her breath mingling with his.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in that small, dimly lit room. Edward’s eyes searched hers, his expression one of quiet intensity, as if he was waiting for her to make the first move.

And she did.

In one fluid motion, Evelyn reached up, her hand brushing the side of his face as she pressed her lips against his. It was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. But when Edward responded—when his lips moved against hers with a hunger that matched her own—something inside her broke free.

The kiss deepened, their mouths moving in sync, the tension between them finally snapping. Edward’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and Evelyn let out a soft gasp as her body pressed against his. There was something raw, electric about the way they clung to each other, the months of unspoken desire finally spilling over.

Edward’s lips trailed down her neck, leaving a burning path in their wake. Evelyn’s fingers tangled in his hair, her body responding to his touch in ways she hadn’t allowed herself to imagine before.

For a moment, they were no longer doctor and patient. They were just two people, caught in a moment of passion that had been building for far too long.

Evelyn woke in her apartment the next morning, the events of the previous night playing over and over in her mind. The way Edward had kissed her, the way she had responded so willingly, so eagerly—it had felt right in the moment, but now… Now, in the light of day, reality set in.

She had crossed a line. A line that couldn’t be uncrossed.

Her fingers brushed her lips as if she could still feel the ghost of his kiss there. She closed her eyes, trying to push the memories away, but they wouldn’t leave her. The way his hands had roamed her body, the soft murmurs he had whispered in her ear—it was all too vivid, too raw.

And yet, even as guilt gnawed at her, a part of her—an undeniable part—wanted more. She wanted to be with him, to feel that connection again. But she knew the risks. She knew the dangers of getting involved with someone like Edward.

When Evelyn arrived at Arkham that morning, her steps were slower than usual, her mind weighed down by the decisions she had yet to make. She had allowed herself to give in to her desire for Edward once, but now, standing outside his cell, she wasn’t sure she could face him again.

But Edward was waiting for her, as always, his gaze unreadable as she entered the room. The air between them was thick with the memory of what had happened the night before, and neither of them spoke for a long moment.

Finally, Edward broke the silence.

“I’ve been thinking about last night,” he said, his voice low, almost cautious.

Evelyn swallowed hard, her eyes dropping to the floor. “We shouldn’t have—”

“I disagree,” Edward interrupted, stepping closer. “I think it was inevitable.”

He was standing right in front of her now, his eyes piercing into hers. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no regret. He wanted her—he had always wanted her—and now that they had crossed that line, there was no going back.

But Evelyn shook her head, her heart heavy with the weight of reality. “Edward, this can’t happen again.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm in that soft, deliberate way of his. “You’re more than that to me, Evelyn.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of her name on his lips, but she forced herself to step back, to put distance between them. “It doesn’t matter. This can’t continue.”

For the first time, something flickered in Edward’s eyes—something dark, dangerous. “You’re wrong, doctor. This is only the beginning.”

Evelyn’s stomach tightened with a mixture of fear and desire. She knew Edward too well to think he would let this go. But she also knew that if she continued down this path, it would consume them both.

In the weeks that followed, Evelyn tried to maintain a professional distance, but Edward was relentless. His riddles became more personal, his gaze more intense during their sessions. Every time she saw him, the memory of their night together played in the back of her mind, making it harder and harder to focus.

And then, one night, Evelyn found another puzzle on her desk. But this time, it wasn’t a box or a riddle on paper. It was a key. A simple, unmarked key with no explanation, no note.

Evelyn stared at it for a long moment, her mind racing with possibilities. She knew Edward too well to think this was just another game. This was something more. Something final.

That night, Evelyn stood outside Arkham, the key clutched in her hand. She had a choice to make—a choice that would change everything.

If she used the key, she would be stepping into Edward’s world fully, embracing the darkness that came with it. If she walked away, she might be able to reclaim the life she had before him.

But deep down, she already knew the answer.

She turned the key in the lock, and the door swung open.

And as she stepped inside, she realized that the puzzle wasn’t just about Edward. It was about her, too. About what she wanted, about who she was.

And maybe—just maybe—this was the answer she had been searching for all along.

Edward watched as the door to his cell swung open, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face. Evelyn stood there, her expression a mixture of fear and resolve, and he knew—knew without a doubt—that he had won.

But this wasn’t just about winning. It wasn’t just about solving the puzzle of her heart. No, this was something deeper, something far more complicated.

She was his now, in every way that mattered.

And as she stepped into his cell, closing the door behind her, Edward pulled her into his arms, their bodies pressing together in the darkness. This was the beginning of something new, something dangerous and thrilling, and neither of them could turn back now.

The riddle had been solved.

The sirens could be heard from a distance.

[huntedmedia]

"Can you defeat a mind such as mine?"

[humanplaypretend]

felt compelled to do a couple of these ୧( ͡⁠ᵔ⁠ ⁠﹏⁠ ͡⁠ᵔ⁠ )

[dysmorgahtzed]

he bites

(not loving how this came out. promise ill make actual pieces sometime fr coming off of artblock so im being easy rn)

[wingedqueenlynx]

Hits them both with the biblically accurate ray 💚🧡

Me- Me when the-

I love them both dearly 👉👈

[interoteme]

from genius to genidiot