#the riddler x fem!reader

[vermililion]

the batman fic recs masterlist ｡✧°‧⭑.ᐟ

˚　 ✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

slowly updating...

─── ✧ bruce wayne 'the batman'

─── ✧ edward nashton 'the riddler'

─── ✧ selina kyle 'catwoman'

─── ✧ alfred pennyworth

─── ✧ oswald 'oz' cobb 'the penguin'

˚　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆.

[bittercoffeeonmykeyboard]

Pushing Buttons

The Riddler x Fem!Reader

Summary - The Riddler pushed a few too many of your buttons, and you accidentally pushed a couple of his. Pent up frustrations lead to... surprising developments.

Authors Note - Reader is referred to as "Kestrel." Genitals and pronouns for the reader aren't specified, but reader is also referred to as "Ma'am," so I figured it would be alright to specify fem!reader and FemDom. Can be read as GN!reader. This Riddler is not from any specific media, but inspired by ArkhamVerse and CodotVerse.

Warnings - NSFW 18+, Canon-Typical Violence, Dub-con, Hand-job, Hair pulling, Blood, Grinding, Biting, FemDom, Dom/Sub Dynamics, Enemies to Lovers and back to Enemies, Hate-Fucking (without actually fucking), Degradation, Reader Insert, Kinda verges on OC Insert, No use of Y/N

Word Count - 3.1k

Beta Reader/Editor - @timesnewreader

The crackle of a shitty connection stabbed your ears suddenly, as you were crouching in the rafters of the warehouse.

"Is that the sound of a bird trapped in my warehouse? Someone call pest control!" The Riddler quipped, invading your earpiece. You clenched your jaw.

"Watch out, I might have rabies." you shot back, thoroughly over this already. Your eyes scanned the building from your perch, searching for a hidden entrance or exit.

"Hah! Only mammals can contract rabies, Kestrel. And here I thought that was common sense?" Fucking hell. Time to find him, sooner than later preferably.

"You think you're so fucking smart-" You began.

"Think? No, I know I am, darling." He grinned through the radio, ego echoing in the earpiece.

"I'm going to beat the shit out of you." You growled as you started to leap through the rafters as quietly as possible.

"You're welcome to try, if you can find me! Too bad you can't keep up with my marvelous intellect."

His grating voice and laugh echoed in your coms.

"Kestrel. Everything alright?" Batman's voice broke over the Riddler's fading laugh.

A heavy sigh. "It's fine. Everything is in control." You reported. "We should have Oracle check our radio security. Riddles keep finding their way into my ears, so to say." A pause.

"Understood. I'll bring that up to her soon. However, the sooner you find him, the sooner that stops happening. Good luck." A beep followed his words, and Batman closed the line.

Really. Really?

"'The sooner you find him, the sooner that stops happening', oh fucking hell, Bats." You mocked. It's not your fucking fault he keeps escaping, and then deciding to make it your issue. A bubble of frustration rose in your chest.

You started to close in on a vent above a well-disguised room, dropping down next to it as silently as possible. Which, considering how frustrated both Riddler and Batman just made you, left you quite impressed with yourself.

You fiddled with your coms controls for a second, opening a channel with the rest of the group on patrol. "I'll be off coms for a while. I have a bone to pick with the Riddler." You paused, before adding "I shouldn't be long."

You closed the line and pulled the earpiece out, readying yourself. With a loud bang, you opened the vent and dropped into the room.

"Well would you look at what the Bat dragged in-"

He was cut off by a grappling hook to the ankle, accented by a thud when his body hit the ground. Your fist would have met his face if he hadn't rolled out of the way, scrambling to his feet. "I have to give you credit-"

Your foot interrupted him with almost breaking his nose. Just glanced him. Damn.

"You found me! And quicker than expected-" He levied his cane and swung for your skull. You ducked, and hooked his ankle out from under him. He hit the ground again, but hooked your own ankle and you landed on your ass. He shuffled to try and get to his feet again, and you flipped over to claw at his leg, dragging him back towards you. He swiftly tried to kick you, and landed a solid kick on your shoulder.

"Truly, one could say-" You reached to grab his arm, and he whacked your head with his cane. "Your intellect is almost on par with-" He managed to roll away form you again. "Your viciousness!" He landed a strong kick to your ribs, making you roll and groan.

You both staggered to your feet, a good six feet between you now. "You talk too much." He brandished his cane like a baseball bat. You lifted your fists, feeling rage and excitement mix in your chest.

"Now where's the fun in silence?" You barked out a laugh, before lunging forward. He swung his cane for your ribs, and you blocked it with your hand, grabbing it and pulling him into a punch, cracking his nose. "AH!"

To his merit he recovered quickly, staggering into a defensive stance as you went to kick at his ribs, managing to dodge with a jump backwards. You both still had a hold on his cane and you used both hands to drag him forward, off balance, twisted and threw him over yourself and onto his back. He landed with a cough, the impact releasing his grip on his cane.

You quickly followed him down, pinning his arms down with his own cane and straddling his waist.

"You are the most annoying man in the world. Your puzzles are shit, your ego is shit, and you deserve to get the shit beat out of you." Riddler seemed dazed, his breathing was quick and blood was starting to trickle out from his nose from your punch. "You're weak, your whole ethos sucks, and the only thing moderately acceptable about you is your sense of style, if only you weren't focused on inflating your own sense of self worth by ruining people's lives."

You spat each word at him, glaring down at him. Your breathing came heavy, filled with the adrenaline of the fight and fire of your words.

The Riddler stared up at you, eyes wide and face flushed. His face kept twitching, as if he was stuck between two expressions, unable to settle on one. "Is that all?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he smirked.

You removed one hand from the cane, leaning forward to pin him more securely as you grabbed his face. "You wish." You sneered down at him, piercing his eyes with yours. "Every single one of your stupid riddles and puzzles has been solved, every time. Makes you think that maybe, oh, they aren't that hard? Your riddles are easy and if you're trying to be a villain, you're failing. You're a nuisance at best, and a danger to society at worst. Maybe you should like, get better? Get better at doing the thing you made your entire identity around."

He was taking short panting breaths, face thoroughly flushed. You let go of his face and he licked his lips, catching some of the blood from his nose and smearing it. Your eyes caught on the motion, before pinning his eyes once again. His pupils were blown, and he chuckled. "Well! That's not very nice, now is it?" His legs shifted behind you, and you felt the movement from where you sat on his waist. He swallowed. "Didn't anyone ever tell you that words hurt?"

You scoffed. "You're one to talk." You leaned back, releasing some of the pressure on his wrists, and instead placing your free hand over his throat. Not pressing, but threatening to. To your surprise, he didn't immediately try to break free from his position. Shifting slightly, you felt something press against you from behind. His eyelids fluttered at the pressure and a quiet exhale left his lips. Realization dawned on you. "You're fucking disgusting." A disbelieving chuckle left you, as you suddenly found yourself nervous.

"Never claimed I wasn't, darling." He lilted, a smirk on his lips. "What can I say? Your physical prowess and verbal assault left me defenseless. I pushed your buttons, and you pushed mine." He breathed out a chuckle, and you felt it resonate beneath your hand. "If, if you'd like…" He hesitated, gazing up and down your body, before meeting your eyes again, half-lidded. "We could push each others' buttons some more?"

The suggestion sent blood rushing to your face, and loathe were you to admit it, warmth began pooling between your legs. Your hand twitched and tightened over his neck briefly, drawing a tiny moan from the Riddler. Shock at the noise caused you to release the cane and his neck, leaving his hands free suddenly. He took this opportunity to grab your wrist and roll the two of you, flipping positions.

"Ooo, see? This could be fun!" He pinned your wrist, and traced his free hand down to your hip. "A little push, a little pull, and we're off to the races." His face came close you yours, breath ghosting over your cheeks as you felt your chest stutter. Arousal mixed with anger at his audacity, heating up with a dash of shame at letting him flip your positions.

A smirk that came off as more of snarl danced on your face, and you hooked your legs over his hip and gripped his hair, dragging him down as you flipped the two of you yet again, landing him beneath you with a breathy groan. You hand firmly found his throat again as you grinned. "Bold of you to assume you'll have any control." You punctuated your statement with a harsh grind of your hips against his, drawing out a pathetic moan. "You'll do as I say, brat. Understand?"

He nodded and swallowed, breathless.

"Speak up."

"Y- yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes… ma'am?"

Another grind of the hips. "Good." A fire was lit in your abdomen, seeing him like this. Oh, the things you'll do to this man.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him up to face you, noses nearly touching. "You're pathetic." Your lips ghosted over his, before meeting as you went to bite down on his bottom lip, keeping it trapped between your teeth as you rutted against him, reveling in the friction and his gasping moans. His hands fluttered at your hips, unsure. You slapped them away, and started pulling at his jacket and shirt. He quickly started helping you strip him until he lay before you, bare-chested. You released his lower lip to instead start trailing bites down his neck. He damn near moaned with every bite, and it was driving you wild. When you reached the junction of his neck and shoulder, you bit hard and rolled your hips, listening to the pretty little mewl he let out. You continued rolling your hips as you licked the bite, savouring the friction against your core. You could practically feel him twitch beneath you.

"Does it feel good, brat?" The Riddler nodded. "Are you so pathetic that me grinding against you is enough? "

"N… Not enough- please…."

You dragged your hand down his chest, his stomach, and down further as you drank in the flustered look on his face. His lip was caught in his teeth, trying to reign in his gasps. You shifted from straddling his pelvis to one of his thighs, guiding your knee to put gentle pressure on him. He blinked heavily and gazed through his lashes up at you. A cheeky grin crossed his lips.

"If I knew you had this in you, I think I would've tried harder to piss you off, darling."

Your hand reached the hem of his pants, tracing them. You popped open the button and slowly, slowly dragged the zipper down.

"If I knew you would've tried something like this, I would've cuffed you earlier."

With that you shove your hand past the hem and down his pants, cutting off whatever reply would've left his lips and replacing it with a choked moan. He shuddered and threw his head back. The touch of your hand had his dick twitching, you could feel his pulse as you gripped his length. It was hot in your grip. A single pump from base to head and you could feel the precum leaking from his tip. He brokenly mewled and grasped at your suit, finding purchase on your shoulder. His expression was wrecked, pupils blown and eyebrows pinched, chest heaving as he leaned his head towards your shoulder.

"Hah, so needy. I've barely touched you, and you're about to cum? Poor little touch starved fuck." You carded your fingers through his hair, gripping and tilting his head back so you could gaze at his expression better. "Riddle me this, brat. What do you want?"

His eyes locked with yours. A shuddered sigh. "Please, touch me, please, please…." he whimpered. Your hand stayed still in his pants.

"Please, what?"

Your hand tightened on his hair, and he gasped at the sting.

"Please, Ma'am! Please…"

"Good boy." A sweet, sadistic grin passed your lips. You started stroking him in an even tempo, rolling your thumb over the head with each pump. His breath stuttered and his eyelids drooped. Each stroke of your hand had little moans spilling from his lips, his hand gripped tighter on your shoulder, digging in just shy of painful. You kept his head craned back, facing the ceiling, watching every expression flicker on his face. Increasing the tempo you pull a depraved moan from his chest. Your own breaths came faster enraptured by his reactions. The air felt like fire as it passed between the two of you, charged with energy. You started pumping faster, faster as you drank in every moan and gasp, fixed on watching him come undone with pleasure. He was so close, so very close now. He was completely flushed, cheeks and chest rosy as he panted. Whimpers and mumbling falling from his lips, shuddering underneath you. "Please please pleasepleaseplease-" fell from his lips in a chant, begging. His dick was throbbing now. His eyes met yours.

"Almost there, brat. Stay with me," a firm tug on his hair as you kept his gaze pinned with yours. His hand slid from your shoulder to the back of your neck as his face started to pinch in pleasure. You kept the pace fast and steady, watching with bated breath. His eyebrows furrowed and jaw went slack as he tipped over, eye lashes fluttering as he tried to keep eye contact with you. He let out a strangled keen, moaning as he climaxed, hot cum spurting and landing on your hand, his pants, and the floor. He went nearly limp in your grasp and you supported him with the hand in his hair, letting go to wrap around his shoulders instead. His head fell forward and into your shoulder. "Sh shh shhh, good boy, you did so good for me." You held him as he caught his breath, inhaling slowly as he came down from his high. You let go of his cock and wiped the cum off your hands with his pant leg as he raised his head back up, his rational mind starting to return. Similarly, you began to realize exactly what just happened. You looked him in the face, making sure he was alright (he was grinning), before briskly letting go and backing away from him, standing up. "Shit." "I'd say that was quite the contrary, dear. Definitely not shit." He let out a breathless chuckle.

"Put your fucking clothes back on." You turned away from him. What the fuck did you just do?? Gave the Riddler a goddamn hand job right after beating the shit out of him, that's what. Fuck it all what were you thinking! You heard the shuffle of him putting his shirt and coat back on, and only turned around once you heard the zip of his pants. He recovered quite well from the mess of a man he was on the floor mere minutes ago, the only tell being the cum stains near his crotch and the specific smell of musk emanating from him. "Well now riddle me this-" he starts. "Don't-" "What gets longer when pulled, fits snugly between breasts, slides neatly into a hole, and works well when jerked?" He grins back at you, delighting in the riddle and watching your inner turmoil flash across your face. "Oh my god. Bubble gum? A cigarette? Fuck off." You paced away from him, setting distance between the two of you. "Certainly not your dick," you called over your shoulder. "Is that your final answer? Really, I expected more eloquence but I guess you can't win all the time, now can you?" He sighed over dramatically, picking up his cane and inspecting it. The Riddler rubbed at a tiny scratch on the handle.

You could feel your blood pressure spike again. Your jaw clenched as you glared back at him. Attempting a sardonic smile but really only succeeding in a snarl, you tilted your head at him. "Eloquently, I hope rats turn your mattress into a refinery of their trash, and you wake up in a pool of your own piss." You started to stomp back over to him, anger pumping into your bloodstream, thankfully masking anything else you might be feeling at the moment. "In-eloquently, fuck off and suffer." You stabbed your finger into his chest for punctuation. He clasped your hand between both of his. "If you keep telling me to fuck off, you'll start to give me the wrong idea about us, darling." the Riddler cooed with an exaggerated pout. "You already have the wrong idea; there is no 'us'." You snatch your hand away from his. His eyes narrowed, even if his horrible, snarky grin remained. "No us, huh?" He clicked his tongue. "How disappointing." his finger found its way to your chin resting there for a moment. Next thing you know, his hand is behind your head and he's kissing you hard, more teeth than lips, and keeping you tight there against him. Shock flashes through you before the rage kicks in again, and you promptly launch your knee straight into his crotch. He releases you with a pained groan, gasping as he doubles over. Between gasps of pain, he starts a stilted laugh. You grab his arm and kick him behind the knee, pulling his arm behind his back while he's still reeling in pain. He jerks, but not before you manage to cuff both of his hands behind his back.

"That's enough of your bullshit, to the GCPD you fucking go." You haul him around and start half dragging him, half leading him to the door. Once he's fully got his feet under him, he smirks down at you. "Aw, but we were having so much fun! Truly, Kestrel, sometimes you are such a killjoy." "If you know whats good for you, you'll shut your mouth." You growled out. "Ah, I've heard that before. In fact, if I had a nickle for every time someone's told me to shut up, I think I could rival Bruce Wayne's wealth!" He chirped. Opening the door, you shove him through first, reaching to turn your coms back on. Before you can, The Riddler tilts his head back at you with a smile. "For the record, the answer is a seat belt."

big thank you to times for being a true bestie and helping me make this legible lol. they're a great beta reader!!! she has a lot of good recommendations if y'all would like to check them out!!

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

Cooley you have corrupted me so badly that I can't watch YouTube videos normally (especially CoryxKenshin and Kenji) without imagining senerios that wb! Reader is the one making them and the batfam is just watching the video/stream and sometimes when it's a vid with more then one youtuber I image wb! Readers friends, civilians or not and sometimes even the arrowfam (I DON'T KNOW WHEN THIS STARTED BUT I CAN'T GET YOU AND YOUR SERIES OUT MY HEAD)

- sincerely 💠 anon

(BRO THATS LOWKEY WHEN I HAVE A CHARACTER TO HYPERFIXATE ON LOLZ)

Reader gives me Berleezy and Jay Kubz Scouts vibes, and no, I won't explain. Reader is saying the most out-of-pocket shit ever here are some quotes

*WB!Reader playing video games with Tim.*

WB!reader: IS THAT FROST???

*The screen shows Jaxx. WB!reader gets off the couch while Tim cackles.*

*WB!Reader going down to the cave because they forgot their headphones there.*

WB!reader: It is hot as hell in this funky ass hot ass room I’m in...

*Bruce, in his batsuit, standing menacingly in the corner.*

WB!reader:IS THAT THE GRIM REAPER???

WB!reader: If we run out of food, I can eat ass.

*Cass wide mouth wide open looking around to see if anyone heard this*

*WB!reader getting ready to stream a game*

WB!reader: One take Jay, I said. I'm clapping this challenge up, I said. I literally said I'm pulling this game's panties down and spanking it

*The Riddler in the game chair next to them scooted back.*

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Moth to the Flame Pt. 1 | Dr. Crane x Reader

summary: Dr. Jonathan Crane isn't the only 'crazy' in Gotham City and he's about to meet his match. When confronted with an unpleasant secret from his past, he's skeptical to trust the strange young woman who calls herself Victoria Vale, the rightful heiress to Arkham Asylum (and maybe his downfall).

warnings: none yet but oh baby just you wait...

A/N: I really enjoy using the original DC comic lore so if you've been following me for a while, you'll recognize the backstories in this but I've tried to make a completely different plot line.

bury a friend- Billie Eilish 🎶

i 

“Professor Crane?” You poke your head into the small office, the heavy door slightly crushing your body against the doorframe. The raven-haired man looks up from a stack of research papers on his desk and cocks an unwelcome eyebrow. 

“Come back during my office hours.” He waves you off with his free hand as he grades a paper with a red pen. His voice has the strange ability to both attract you and put you ill-at-ease at the same time. You step inside and let the heavy door close behind you. You don’t need to lock it, yet. Dr. Crane looks you up and down quickly, his lip curled in displeasure and disinterest. 

“It’s a quick question, I promise sir,” you lie through your teeth, your dimples showing beneath your full cheeks as you smile. Dr. Crane looks up at you from over the rim of his harsh rectangular frames. He stares at you for a moment, his blue eyes shifting as he thinks, then finally he sighs and sits back in his desk chair. 

“What’s your name?” He removes his glasses and wipes the lenses clean with the corner of his suit jacket. He puts them back on as you sit down opposite of him, the desk between you. You glance down at the research papers, an action that is barely noticeable, if at all. 

“Victoria,” you answer and watch as Dr. Crane sighs again, impatiently. He rolls his eyes after a moment of silence and leans forward, gesturing his hand through the air to get you to continue. 

“What did you want to ask me?” He asks pointedly, losing whatever patience he had left. 

“Well we’ve spoken once before but it was just a brief exchange after one of your lectures,” you start and Crane watches you, barely paying attention now. His eyes seem to glaze over. “I asked you about the chemical components of fear. I’d like to hear your answer.” You say slowly, your hands playing with the edge of your seat. Dr. Crane barely cocks his head to the side before he clucks his tongue and looks away. 

“Did you not like the answer I gave you before?” 

“I’d forgotten what you said,” you explain as you wipe your clammy hands on your thighs. Dr. Crane threw his gaze back to you and raised an eyebrow, his expression one of obvious judgment. 

“Fear is an emotional response to a threat. It’s a basic evolutionary survival mechanism. The two primary parts of the brain that deal with fear are the amygdala and the hippocampus…” he answers dully, regurgitating what every psych student already knows. 

“Respectfully, sir,” you start, your voice steady, “I’m talking about the chemical components of fear, not the anatomical.” 

Dr. Crane regards you with an unreadable expression and then removes his glasses, sighing deeply again. He looks down at his glasses and then clears his throat. 

“You’re interested in fear chemistry, are you?” His tone is low and dry, like he’s mocking you. 

“Interested isn’t exactly the right word.” You answer with a small shrug. 

“What is the right word then, Victoria?” The way he says your name is sharp, like a door closing when you aren’t expecting it. He finally looks up at you again.

“I’m…” you search for the right word and then wet your lips, “... attracted to the concept of fear. It’s almost like a passion project that can’t be satisfied.” 

“Attracted to fear?” Crane repeats slowly, though his face doesn’t change. 

“Fear is one of the most fascinating phenomena in the creation of our universe, don’t you think?” 

Dr. Crane regards you differently, his breath shifting to a new rhythm. He wets his lips before he answers, his words measured. 

“One could debate that. I’d say pleasure or desire are more complex and powerful. Why fear?” 

“It’s the power of control over both the mind and body,” you respond without batting an eye. 

“Is it power that fascinates you, Victoria?” Crane asks softly, his hands clenching and relaxing in his lap. “One could say that pleasure can have a similar effect.” 

You allow yourself to blush, knowing it’ll look more believable if you do. “Well, it’s also about control…” 

Dr. Crane looks down at his hands again and thinks for a moment before responding, his voice still calm and even despite the shift in the room. 

“Do you find control attractive?” 

“Well, don’t you? Isn’t that why you became a teacher? The role gives you control over the development of new minds,” you smile sweetly. 

A rare smirk creeps across Crane’s face. He looks up at you and puts his glasses back on, the silver frames catching the light of the fluorescent bulbs. 

“You’re very perceptive,” he trails off and folds his hands on the desk in front of him. “Control is a powerful and attractive aspect of fear.” 

“And what’s so fascinating about fear specifically is that it is universal. Everyone has something that they’re afraid of… even you. And that’s what led me to ask myself this question: what are you, Professor Crane, afraid of? And for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.” Your eyes meet his with an obvious change in intentionality. Crane doesn’t react but feels himself leaning forward slightly like a snake rearing its head.

“I have a few guesses but it doesn’t matter for right now,” you continue when he doesn’t respond. “I read your old thesis about fear in mammalian species and it’s given me a lot of insight into my own mind.” 

“You’ve read my thesis?” Dr. Crane cocks his brow again and grips his hands together painfully. His body goes cold in warning like a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. “Most of my students barely attend class, much less decide to read my work.” 

This is the moment. You lean forward slightly, your hair falling off your shoulders, your eyes wide with excitement. 

“Oh, I never said I was a student, Professor Crane.” 

Dr. Crane freezes, his cold heart stuttering in his chest. He swallows slowly, trying to collect his thoughts before he responds. 

“Then who, may I ask, are you?” 

“I attended one of your lectures on radical treatment of phobias, which is where we spoke for the first time, and yes, I did sit in on one of your classes and left with additional reading materials and a better appreciation for your work. Your thesis however,” you tilt your head away in a show of shyness, “that’s available for any ‘crazy’ to find.”

“Mmm so, you’re just a ‘crazy’ then?” Crane hums cooly, “But that still doesn’t answer how you managed to get a copy of my thesis. It was pulled from circulation and all hard copies that I was aware of were destroyed.” 

“I’m good at getting answers and it helps when people find you attractive…” you shift in your seat, looking away. You can feel Crane’s eyes on you as he considers your answer. 

“And I guess that means you think that I find you attractive?” Crane guesses cooly, his eyes not leaving your face. You look back at him and take note of his guarded expression. Taking a breath, you fix your hair and meet his eyes. 

“I think you’re attracted to my mind.” 

“Who are you?” He asks again, leaning closer against his better judgment, like a moth to the flame. 

“I’m surprised you’re so unconcerned with my presence here, late at night when everyone else has gone home…” your posture is rigidly still as you speak. Dr. Crane smirks softly. 

“You are a very beautiful and intelligent young woman, and you don’t look very dangerous to me. Why would I be concerned?” 

“Because I think I know what you’re afraid of, doc.” You whisper and Crane freezes again, his heart jumping in his chest at your thinly veiled threat. Despite his feelings of unease, Crane smiles. He studies your lips as you speak and the way your body is angled towards him. 

“And what is it that I’m afraid of?” 

And just like that, it’s become a game. 

You smile a little, wanting him to feel safe and comfortable. He isn't intimidated by you yet and you want him to take you seriously. You lean closer, ducking your head in a whisper. 

“Being found out…” 

“About what, pet?” Crane asks pointedly, in a challenging tone. 

“Well…,” you sit back in your chair casually and tuck your hair behind your ears. “I’ve always had a natural inclination towards crime. That’s what made me become a detective. I thought what I wanted was to restore justice in Gotham, but I’ve quickly learned that justice is a jealous mistress and maybe my interest in crime has other motives… Are you following me so far?” 

Dr. Crane massages his mouth with his hand, listening intently. His lips are pursed beneath his fingers, his eyes void of any telling secrets. 

“So far,” he sighs. 

“You and I share something very important. It’s made us both who we are today. I just realized it before you did.” 

“Oh? And what do you think we share?” He furrows his brow skeptically. 

You stand and brush the hem of your dress over your thighs. As Crane watches you, you trail a finger over the books on your bookshelf, stopping at one and pretending to read one of the pages. 

“Thomas Wayne.” 

You toss the book in front of him on the desk. The book is open to the author bio. It’s a picture of your parents, the authors of a book on criminal psychology. The Arkhams.

"These are my parents. My name was Victoria Vale when I was born. Thomas Wayne murdered them and they put me in an orphanage. I didn’t know they were my parents until I started looking into the Waynes. And then I found you…” You keep your story short and to-the-point, not wanting to reveal too much. Dr. Crane looks between the photo and you, his brow furrowed as he works it all out in his head. Maybe for the first time in his life, he finds himself speechless. 

“So you really are crazy, aren’t you, pet?” He covers the shaky tone of his voice with a sneer. You ignore him and close the book, pushing it aside on the desk. 

“Tell me, what did Thomas Wayne do to you?” 

Dr. Crane looks up at you and scoffs. He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and his thumb until the pressure between his eyes fades. 

“And why would I tell you that?” 

“Because I already know the answer, I’m just giving you the opportunity to say it.” You lean against the bookshelf and cross your arms over your chest. Dr. Crane regards you with suspicion and shakes his head. 

“You’re bluffing.” 

“Am I?” You bite back. You stare at each other, eyes narrowed and blood pumping. Dr. Crane finally sighs through his nose and puts his glasses back on. His eyes bore into you, punishing you for asking him this question. He holds your gaze with a mixture of pain, bitterness and cold rage. He speaks as if the words are acid in his mouth.

“Thomas Wayne destroyed my family and my childhood. He was a ruthless and cruel man and I’m glad he’s dead.” 

You stare back at him and notice the original tension between you changing, shifting as your power shifts. 

“Then we’re kindred spirits, you and I. It was only a matter of time until I found you, the famous criminal psychiatrist with-” You lean over the desk, looking directly into his eyes,” startling blue eyes.” You take a breath before continuing, not waiting for him to respond. 

“Because I’m a good detective, not like any of my ignorant male peers, I looked into a string of unusual robberies and I noticed that most of Falcone’s men were being moved to Arkham Asylum… on your orders.” 

Crane is silent for a moment, impressed by your intelligence and deduction. He feels his heart starting to pound a little faster again. He does not deny it, but doesn’t confirm your suspicions either. 

“I may have had some influence in those transfers.” 

“Don’t worry, Crane, I’m not here to cause trouble for you. I just wanted to meet the man I’ve admired for so long and see if I can be of some… help.” You smile and pass your fingers over the research papers organized across the desk. You’re catching him off guard on how well you know him and he can’t tell if he likes it or not. His eyes flick across your face again, taking in the sight of your dark eyes and darker eyelashes. 

“You admire me?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“How does a young, beautiful girl like yourself become so interested in a man like me?” Then he pauses and wets his lips before adding with a smirk, “why, exactly, do you admire me?”

“Your work, it’s impressive. And what can I say… ” You look back up at him with a serious look on your face as you drag a finger across the research papers, pulling out a piece of scratch paper. “I like your style.” 

On the corner of the paper, there is a drawing of a scarecrow. You drag it slowly across the desk until it sits in front of Crane on the desk. You don’t need to say anything else. He looks down at the drawing, swallows, then looks up at you. 

“Stop acting dumb, doc. I know more than you think. Like I said, I’m good at finding information and sticking my nose into places where it may not belong.” 

Crane’s pulse quickens at the edge in your voice, his fingers reaching for and clutching the paper tightly. He wants to be irritated, but somehow you’re bringing out a different, a darker and playful part of him. 

“Once again, you’ve proven yourself to be a very observant and talented young woman. Maybe too talented. I think you’re too dangerous to keep around my office, Miss Vale. You’re a liability.” 

“What are you going to do to me, Crane? Are you going to use your… little fear toxin on me?” You smile, leaning further across the desk where Crane hasn’t moved from his seat. He looks up at you, smirking slyly. 

“Maybe I will.” Dr. Crane starts to stand, and when he does, he’s taller than you but not by much. He isn’t a very tall man, you could easily take him if you needed to. You’re still separated by the desk but you’re close enough to smell his cologne. 

“Impressed by my skills of deduction?” You ask, clasping your hands behind your back. 

Crane walks slowly around his desk to stand in front of you, looking you up and down intently. He tilts his head to the side, his voice distant and distracted. 

“More than a little impressed, yes. You’ve figured out an awful lot about me in a very short time.”

“Now don’t you want to know why I’m here? Your survival instincts are annoyingly slow, Crane,” you tease. 

Crane bristles, displeased with your slight to his intelligence. He crosses his arms over his chest and sits back against the desk, clenching his jaw. “I would love to know why you’re here. You’ve been very coy about that point.” 

You nod and move away from him to continue looking at the books, organized meticulously on the bookshelf. “I have a proposition for you. I want to be… business partners.” You can see Crane watching you from out of the corner of your eye. Crane chuckles a little, stunned. 

“Business partners, huh? And what exactly would that entail?” 

Crane’s eyes sweep over your figure again as he imagines what kind of ‘business partners’ he’d want to be. 

“I’ll help you with your grand plan for Gotham and in return I get two things…” you keep your eyes on the spines, your fingers following the edges of each book. 

“Mm?” Crane hums, listening carefully now that you have his full attention. 

“1. I get to lead beside you when you successfully turn Gotham upside down and 2. I get what’s rightfully mine… Arkham Asylum.” You turn back to look at him, refusing to be intimidated by him even when he looks at you like something he’d like to eat. 

Crane’s eyes widen and he almost starts to laugh. His navel warms, aroused by your attitude and threats. He chuckles softly and moves his hands to grip the desk on either side of his body. 

“Gotham city flipped upside down, and Arkham Asylum in your hands. Your terms are surprisingly bold, Miss Vale.” 

“What can I say, Crane? I’m in the business of retribution.” You shrug, not backing down. 

Crane chuckles again and shakes his head, “Touché.” He imagines himself pinning you against the bookshelf and feels himself get hard just at the thought of it. He watches you closely, noticing your unwavering resolve. “And how can you be sure I won’t use my toxin on you?”

It’s your turn to laugh now. You smile and step closer to him, meeting his cool eyes. You let your eyes look him up and down, admiring the way his lean body hides beneath his expensive suit. 

“I’ve prepared for that possibility… but I like playing with fire.” You pull a lighter out from your pocket and strike a flame. It glows between your faces.

Crane smiles in amusement at your audacity then his eyes dart between your face and the flame separating the two of you. 

“You are playing a dangerous game, Miss Vale.” 

“My favorite,” you respond coolly and play with the flame in your hand. Crane’s eyes follow the flame and he swallows. “So? What say you?” 

He should stop you, he should kick you out of his office and ignore you, but the fire in your eyes and the confidence in your words makes him want to take a risk. He reaches out quickly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your face up so that he can see it clearly. His voice is a low whisper.

“You’re a dangerous little thing, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” You snap the lighter closed and tuck it into Crane’s breast pocket. “Regards from Thomas Wayne. I thought you should have it.” 

Crane looks down at the lighter, dropping his hand away from your chin. His eyes dart back to your face, assessing the weight of your words. Your demeanor is cold and almost amused. Crane swallows, his skin growing cold where the lighter now sits. 

“Where did you get this, Miss Vale?”

“Not only do I want what’s rightfully mine, you deserve what they took from you too. Think of this as my promise and a peace offering.” You pat his breast pocket, your face getting dangerously close to his. He flinches when you touch him and clenches his jaw. He looks down to your hand patting his pocket and raises a sharp brow. 

“And you’re willing to help me get my revenge?” 

“It would be mine too.” 

“Against Thomas Wayne?” 

“Against the whole city… but especially the Waynes.” You whisper, managing to take a step closer. Crane chuckles, admiring the way your eyes darken when you speak so severely. He leans down a little closer to your ear, his breath ruffling your hair. 

“A pretty, vengeful vixen. I’m starting to like you, Miss Vale.” 

“Now, now, now-” You push him back with a sly smile, your teeth showing, “We’re business partners, not fuck buddies. You’ll need to behave yourself if you want to make this work.” 

Crane actually laughs, though the sound is raspy and dark, it’s still a laugh. He allows you to push him back and holds up his hands in mock surrender, sitting back on the edge of his desk. 

“Feisty. Ok, I’ll play the part. No need to worry, Miss Vale… though the thought is… tempting.”

“Not intoxicating? I’ll just have to try harder next time,” you smile as you pull on your coat from the chair. Dr. Crane watches you from his desk, his eyes following your arms as you slide into the quilted coat. 

“Oh you know exactly how intoxicating you are. Don’t be coy, Miss Vale.” 

“Maybe I’m just a Jack of All Trades,” you shrug and move to the door. Crane crosses his arms over his chest again and nods slowly. 

“Yes, I’m starting to see that now. You’re full of surprises.” He can’t help but look you up and down again, his eyes lingering on the shape of your thighs or the angular way you hold your head. He wets his lips, wetting his pallet. 

“Well, here’s another one,” you smile, fully aware of his arousal, “Falcone was taken into custody today. Someone, and I’m not saying who, may have given him a razor blade. He’ll need a psych evaluation and you need to be the one to do it. I don’t trust him to keep his mouth shut if this goes to trial.” 

Crane raises an eyebrow, impressed by your thoroughness. 

“Falcone in custody. Hmm. A razor blade? What a coincidence...” he starts to wonder exactly how far you’re willing to take this revenge of yours. He can feel himself getting excited in more ways than one. 

“You’ve got the right idea, Miss Vale. I’d be more than happy to take over his evaluation.”

“Good. I’ll arrange for you to administer it between your lectures. You’re such a busy man. Professor by day, psychopath by night. I don’t know how you do it.” 

“I’ve made a lot of sacrifices,” he answers cooly, calmly, “As have you, it seems.” 

Something passes between you, something shifts once again in your eyes. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Crane.”  

You start to leave but turn around briefly to speak, your eyes growing softer. You’re actually capable of feelings too, not just well-worded threats. “Don’t lose the lighter… it’s the one he used…” 

You leave the sentence in the air between you, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. Dr. Crane seems to freeze again as he processes what you’re saying. He puts his hand against his breast pocket to feel the outline of the lighter. He clenches his jaw and finally nods. 

“Goodnight, Miss Vale.” 

You nod once and open the door, pushing against its heavy weight. 

“I’ll be in touch,” you say over your shoulder and Crane fixes his glasses. 

“I’m sure.”

Only when the door closes behind you and you’re walking down the dim hallway do you allow yourself to exhale. Dr. Crane was so much more impressive in person… and so much more attractive. You had almost faltered on your plans until you remembered how much you needed him, and how important it was that the two of you meet. Though you must admit, acting unbothered has never been harder. You run your hand through your hair and slip out of the science building on campus. You’re wearing a quilted coat, more for professionalism than warmth. It’s late Spring in Gotham and it’s too warm for a coat. In fact, there’s a heatwave coming in the next week. But you keep the coat on because the color is dark, helping you blend into the shadows of every building in the city. 

The moment the door closes, Crane finds himself almost unable to breathe. He’s nearly shaking and feels strangely off-balance like you’ve completely turned his world on its head. He walks back around his desk to his chair and slowly lowers himself into the seat. He exhales shakily and pinches the bridge of his nose above his glasses. Part of him wants you, the other part wants you gone. With a sigh, Crane pulls the lighter out of his pocket and places it on the desk, looking at it while his thoughts run wild. 

You hadn’t needed to say the words for him to piece it together: this was the lighter that Thomas Wayne used to kill his mother, and by extension, his father. The knowledge of what you’ve given him finally sinks in and he takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching again. He feels a cold shiver rush over him, a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once. He can’t tell if he wants to cry or scream or laugh. Crane reaches out and grabs the lighter, his knuckles turning white. He thinks of you, of your audacity to crash his carefully constructed life with your own plans of revenge. He plays with the lighter, his lips pulled into an unhappy snarl. But the longer he thinks about you, the more he feels himself growing to like you. As much trouble as you could cause him, he liked how fast you thought on your feet and how good you looked in that dress. 

Hours seem to pass before he can slowly regain control of himself enough to clear his head a little. He’s trying to understand you… he wants to trust you but there’s a very loud part of his mind that’s screaming not to. He can’t deny the fact that you’ve completely enthralled him, in fact, the thought of seeing you again makes his heart pound in perverse excitement. He tosses the lighter back on the desk and runs a hand over his face. 

“Damn you…"

[randomcreator-09]

It's Cuffing Season (Jonathan Crane x Barista!Reader)

(Gif ain't mine > @breakfastonuranus)

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>>MINORS DNI<<<

✨NSFW [Stockholm Syndrome (Pretty self-explanatory), Abduction, Chocking, Bondage (cuffing), Oral (M!Rec), DubCon (cnc maybe?), PnV (Wrap it before you Tap it), Breeding kink, Candle Play, Overstimulation, and some other things that I may have forgotten], He fell in love with you but you didn't love him (as much) back so he had to do what any villain would do ^^, Crane's top but a softy his little princess, Crane just loves us~, Yes a lil Fluff and a bit of angst :3, also maybe mention of death (Parents)✨

🐧I'm learning my vocabs on NSFW content XD look how I'm adding up every smut warnings I know XD and it's actually not there XD. Please tell me if those are actually in the story damn :"D. Anyways this fic is for that request made, I hope this satisfies your need :3 cuz it did mine XD Although the phasing might be fast somehow... I tried putting all my ideas in one place heh, I hope I wrote it well :"D also the song comes in my mind as I wrote this is the one above... It's cuffing season~🐧

5K Words (I tried shortening it really... this is the best I could do ack)

Now... enjoy you mentally ill people (like me XD)

KINDLY REBLOG TO REACH MORE PEEPS ^^ (also heart it if you love it ^^ tnx)

-----

"Jonathan Crane!" you screamed to the top of your lungs as you read the order name on the cup. Looking around to see if anyone would answer to that name, and there he came.

A man in his well-tailored black suit, accompanied by his brown vest and black tie. A divine for any lady to look at, but for you it was the last thing you found interesting about. You didn't have time to swoon over men right now. Tuition at your college was more than the budget your parents left you before passing and you had to work your ass off to get through. Plus this business was not running well (your parent's business) so you had to do what had to be done, work to the bones.

"Thanks, Miss?" he muttered as he grabbed his drink from the counter and looked you straight in the eye. He had ocean blue eyes that were accessorized with his rectangle cut glasses which made him look more heavenly. His lips pursed and cheeks well contoured, anyone could really just fall in love with this man with one look, you thought, but not you.

You were making the next order as you spoke, "Y/N" you said without thinking of anything, flashing him a quick smile before returning to getting busy.

He smiled back, but you didn't see that as you busied yourself. He nodded before leaving the store. It was sunny that day, a busy day in Gotham City. People out and about, havoc on the neighboring store and policemen drinking their coffee in your store, this was Gotham City, bow.

-----(Jonathan Crane POV)

As Jonathan walked through the streets of Gotham City, he smirked. 'Y/N's hands were on this cup' he thought smiling to himself, as he sipped through the lid. It has been long since he was obsessed with something, not to mention someone other than Batman.

He first saw you on the day havoc happened at your store, a burglary. He was in line to order his usual coffee, clearly pissed at how the line was moving slowly when three masked men came in pointing guns at your employee. It was his first time seeing you then, the owner of the café.

You came out with a nonchalant look as you came from the back kitchen and pointed a loaded shotgun at the masked men. "Out" was the only thing you said as the masked men went running (unfortunately their guns were empty and were just actually toys). He was amused how you knew their guns were empty, even then, you exuded confidence in what you did that day, something Crane found fascinating.

From then on he went to the café from day to day (if he had the time even hour by hour). When you weren't there he would just walk away with nothing in hand, but when you were, he'd order everything on the menu to keep you standing there picking his order from the glassed window, to see your cleavage creeping out your tight V-neck shirt, as his pants would feel tight with his bulge poking it. He really should do something about his obsession with you he thought.

And think he did. He has planned to abduct you and manage your dead parent's business while you were gone, so you'd call him a 'good boy' after manipulating your mind to love him. He planned on paying for your tuition after it too! He has spoken to your school's board to give you a scholarship already (to which you declined because the head of your college was known to give scholarships to people he'd like to fuck). He had a room for you in his apartment already, complete with all the clothes you have in your own small apartment (with extra touches of clothes he likes to see you in... such as expensive lingerie and such).

'Just you wait my love' he thought as he kept the empty cup to his stash of cups with your handwriting on his office desk drawer. 'you will be mine soon', as he closes the drawer shut with a bright smile.

-----(Your POV)

You breath was a mess, your memory a foggy one, as your vision went on and off.

You only remembered the dark night enveloping the streets. As you closed the shop early today (because one of your employees had midterm examinations and you had too), you were out at the back of the shop throwing the heavy bag of trash to the bin when your sight turned dark.

In panic, you tried to fight the four arms that kept you from removing the bag over your head to no avail. Screaming was useless in Gotham, so you didn't try to do so. They guided you up in a spaced van and tied your hand back, they were being rather careful with you, you thought. Like a porcelain from china being transported to the England museum.

Before you know it you were dead asleep, as you inhaled funny smelling air (sleeping gas you presumed).

Minutes passed by as your vision went on again. Seeing that handsome blue-eyed man smiling at the sight of you, and your out again.

-----(Jonathan Crane's POV)

'She's here!' Jonathan's mind was in haywire. He was excited as he saw you being ushered in his apartment by two of his men. However his smile faltered as he sees your wrist red from the rope tied around it.

"Fuck! I told you to be careful with her! You fucking dimwits!" he screamed as he trashed around his living room, throwing anything he saw to his men. "Sorry, Sir Crane, she was a feisty one you see-" he shot the man, he had no time for explanations. "Get out of my sight" he glared at the other who ran out.

Jonathan kneeled down to untie you and remove the black bag over your head. Oh, how majestic you looked sleeping, he could stare at you forever, even maybe when the two of you are old, he smiled at that.

"Welcome Home, Y/N" as he kissed your forehead before carrying you princess-style to your new room.

-----(Your POV)

As you blinked your eyes, adjusting to the light of the room. You finally see the room you were in, it was not your room. Panic consumes you as you realize there were shackles on your wrist, chained to the bed.

You couldn't possibly scream now, since you didn't scream earlier where it could have been evident. You just observed the room, looking for something to get yourself free. The room was in your favourite colour, shockingly it made you more at ease than panic. Some of your missing favorite clothes were on the open closet as well, with boxes of maybe new clothes. Pair of shoes and sandals that screamed 'expensive', you thought of the possibility that maybe a girl abducted you, but some of them were visibly your size.

Before you could find a way to escape the door creeks open. You close your eyes to pretend to be sleeping, but the person to open it doesn't seem to buy it.

"Oh Darling, I mean no harm," his deep voice echoes the room. You closely open your eyes to see the same man that goes to your cafe shop and only ever smiles at you.

"You!" exclaiming as you squirm through the chain to fight him. He rushes to you as he places a tray of food on the floor. "Darling, Darling Angel calm down my Love. I am here to protect you from this dangerous world, I am your only hope in this dark world. By the time everything is in havoc, you are safe here." as he tries to sooth you, patting your head as he sat beside your bedside.

"Fuck You, Jonathan!" you hiss at him, remembering his name as he was always in your cafe, in which he chuckles. "I believe that's not how you thank your saviour love," his voice in a darker tone than earlier as he stands up and picks up the tray of food, placing it on your lap. "Now, I will remove the cuffs on your wrist and you eat peacefully without fighting your savior or..." he pauses as his fingers tickle your wrist and moving slowly to grip on your neck ever so softly "... We do it the hard way and I might punish you, which, believe me, you might even enjoy, Y/N" as he smirks at you.

It took all in you to not tear up then. You prayed to God that this was just a sick dream and that you fainted from overworking, but it wasn't. As you feel his hands tighten their grip making you look at him, you suddenly drown in his ocean-blue eyes. If you weren't a busy woman and had time to date you'd probably dated him before, but this was sick, something you never thought a man with such a political figure like him would do.

Kicking the tray of food to the floor, you squirmed again, the cuffs tightening with your every move. Swearing to his face that you will never cooperate with him and he can kiss your ass. He laughs at that, he stands up after releasing your neck as you gasp for air. He then cleans up your mess and closes the door with a rather loud bang. As you cried in the room, waiting for the inevitable 'punishment'.

Hours has passed and the room turned dark along with the night creeping in the room. The door creaked open, slow and deliberate. Your breath hitched as the sound of footsteps filled the room, heavier this time. Jonathan Crane appeared once more, but now the light was dimmer, casting flickering shadows across his face. In his hand, a single candle burned, the flame dancing in the darkness.

"You seem to have a lot of fight in you," he murmured, setting the candle on a nearby table. "But I wonder..." He trailed off, his voice low and taunting as he approached the bed, pulling a small chair closer to where you lay cuffed. "How long will that fire last?"

He dragged the chair, its legs scraping against the floor, and sat down. His eyes gleamed with a sick curiosity, studying your every move, every breath. His fingers hovered over the flame, feeling its heat before he slowly turned his gaze back to you.

"You know, fear has many faces," he whispered. His hand, now inches from your skin, tilted the candle slightly. A bead of hot wax dripped, falling closer... closer...

"Please..." You whispered staring at the falling bead of wax rolling down the candle.

The first drop landed just above your stomach, the sting sharp but fleeting. You flinched, a hiss escaping your lips. Jonathan smirked, leaning forward. "Fear, pain... they blend together. And soon, you'll understand just how much I can make you feel."

The next drop fell, then another, each landing with precision, calculated to push you further without overwhelming you. Every slight movement you made only caused the shackles to tighten, reminding you of your helplessness.

"You will cooperate," he whispered darkly, "whether you like it or not."

The steady drip of hot wax continued, each drop sending a fresh wave of stinging heat across your skin. You couldn’t help it—you began to squirm, the restraints digging deeper into your wrists as you tried to twist away. Your heart raced, fear coursing through every vein.

“P-please,” you gasped, your voice shaking as you felt the heat of the wax inching closer to your chest. “Stop, I—I can’t take it.”

Jonathan’s eyes flickered with amusement, his lips curling into a smile that sent chills down your spine. He tilted the candle just enough to let a few more drops fall, ignoring your pleas. "Begging already?" he teased, the sound of his laughter dark and unsettling.

You squirmed harder, desperate to escape the pain, but there was nowhere to go. The shackles held you in place, trapping you in his game. "Jonathan, please!" you cried out, your voice breaking. "Stop, I’ll do whatever you want, just—please!"

He stood up then, towering over you, his eyes cold and devoid of mercy. "Do you really think begging will change anything?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “This is only the beginning.”

He chuckled, low and menacing, as he straightened, letting another drop fall from the candle with eerie precision. “I want you to remember this moment. Every time you think of resisting me... every time you think you have any control.”

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as the heat burned into your skin again. His laugh echoed in your ears, cruel and unrelenting, as if your suffering was nothing more than a twisted form of entertainment for him.

"You’ll break," he said, his voice eerily calm. "And when you do... you’ll beg me to continue."

Your body trembled under the growing layer of hardened wax, the pain numbing into a dull throb as you finally broke down, tears slipping down your cheeks. Sobs wracked your chest, your will shattered as you lay helpless beneath him, the hot wax pooling in small rivers over your skin, solidifying into painful reminders of his control.

Jonathan finally paused, watching the tears fall with a look of satisfaction in his cold eyes. He placed the candle back on the table, its flame still flickering faintly. His gaze drifted down your body, where the wax now covered your skin in thick patches. He licked his lips, the silence between you heavy with unspoken tension.

Your eyes flickered downwards, catching the unmistakable bulge in his pants. The air shifted, heavier now, as he undid his belt with a slow, deliberate movement, the metal buckle clinking softly in the oppressive quiet.

His voice was low and dangerous as he looked down at you. "You've been such a defiant girl, Y/N," he said, his tone almost casual. "Now… you’re going to make it up to me."

He tugged down his pants, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood there, commanding and unyielding. "I think you know what comes next," he murmured, stepping closer, your eyes never leaving his as you tried to keep it there. "And listen very carefully—if I feel your teeth, you'll wish I had only used wax." you gritted your teeth as he aligns his length to your lips, making you look at his pink veiny cock.

He leaned in, grabbing a fistful of your hair to force you to meet his gaze. His grip was firm, but the smirk on his face was even crueler. "Now," he ordered, his voice deepening with lust. "Take me. And don't make me regret giving you this chance."

As you slowly opened your mouth to accommodate his grit. He slowly moved in your mouth. Soliciting a quiet moan out his lips as he slowly thrusts in and out your mouth, hands still tangled on your hair. "Good... Good girl," he hissed as his head bobs back from pleasure.

Tears ran down your cheeks as your throat chokes on the tip of his cock. Shackles still on your wrist as he slowly picks up his phase, making you squirm again, moaning at how his restless speed in your mouth made you feel soaking wet down below, bucking your knees together to create friction.

His speed was ethereal now, you hesitated, your throat tightening as you leaned forward, but Jonathan’s grip on your hair tightened, his warning clear in his eyes. You started, gagging slightly as he pushed you to take him deeper, but there was no room for hesitation. The pressure built, and just as you choked, he pulled back slightly, his hand flashing across your face with a sharp slap.

"Don’t stop now," he growled, dragging you back roughly. The force left no room for escape as he pushed you to take him fully, his breath quickening, his control slipping as you obeyed, doing your best to keep up. His pace quickened until the tension broke, and you felt him reach his climax.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuck! Take it! Take it, love!" Jonathan groaned, his body shuddering with release as he rutted into your mouth, the taste of him thick on your tongue. He held you there for a moment longer before finally pulling away, leaving you gasping for air, your throat raw and your body trembling.

Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing. Slowly, Jonathan's hands moved to the cuffs, undoing them with a gentleness that sharply contrasted the earlier brutality. As the restraints fell away, your sore wrists ached from the pressure, but you barely registered the pain.

“Shhh, it’s alright now,” he murmured softly, easing your arms down to your sides as you panted weakly, exhaustion washing over you. He wiped the sweat and wax from your skin with a damp cloth, moving with surprising care as he cleaned away the hardened remnants from your body. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he wiped the corners of your mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against your lips.

“You did so well,” he whispered, his voice now gentle, devoid of the harsh edge it had held moments before. “You’re perfect.” His words were soft, almost affectionate, as he covered you with a warm blanket, tucking it around your body as if wrapping you in a cocoon of safety. "My fucking perfect angel." as he kissed your forehead.

As your eyes fluttered closed, too tired to fight sleep, Jonathan leaned down, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Rest now. You're mine, and I’ll take care of you," he whispered, stroking your hair soothingly until you finally drifted off into unconsciousness.

-----(Months after abduction, Batman is dead)

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly to yourself as you gazed out the window, your reflection staring back at you. Months ago, you had cried endlessly, resisting every touch and command Jonathan gave. Now, those tears seemed so distant, almost laughable. The ‘punishments’ he promised had turned into something you craved—each session pushing you to new heights of pleasure. And afterward, the aftercare was so tender, so sweet, you had never felt so wanted. So cared for.

He had taken over everything: your safety, your business, and even your education. Your café ran smoothly under his careful management, leaving you to focus on finances from the comfort of his condo. The outside world? It felt foreign now, just a backdrop beyond the glass. Here, with him, was all you needed.

The door clicked open, and you immediately recognized the soft footsteps crossing the threshold. You didn’t turn around, but you could feel his presence before he even touched you. Jonathan was back.

A pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, his grip firm yet gentle, pulling you against him. “How was your day?” he murmured into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You leaned back into his chest, feeling the weight of the day fade away as you melted into his embrace.

“Hard,” you groaned, thinking about the lessons. The professors he hired for you weren’t easy, and today had been especially draining. “College was hard... why do they make it so difficult?” (The professors came to the apartment, Jonathan doesn't want his princess to walk or drain herself to go out).

Jonathan chuckled softly, his hands trailing up and down your waist and hips in slow, soothing movements. "Difficult?" he whispered, pulling your head back gently so that your lips were inches from his. "I’ll have to deal with that professor, then... make sure they know better than to push you too hard."

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a kiss, his grip firm as he held you in place. The tension melted from your body as you sank into him, the world outside completely forgotten. The kiss was slow but possessive, his lips claiming yours with an undeniable hunger that left you breathless.

When he finally pulled away, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice was a low, commanding murmur. “Let’s go upstairs.”

You nodded, your body already responding to his words, anticipation building as he guided you up the stairs to the room, knowing exactly what was coming next.

As you reached the top of the stairs, Jonathan didn’t lead you toward his room. Instead, he pulled you toward yours. The familiar space, the one place that was entirely yours within his domain, now felt smaller with him so close. The moment you entered, he pressed you firmly against the wall, his body pinning yours in a way that made your breath hitch.

His lips captured yours again, more intense this time, his hand snaking around your waist as he deepened the kiss. You could feel the controlled desire in the way he held you, as though he was fighting to maintain his composure. When he finally broke the kiss, his eyes darkened as they roamed over you, a quiet hunger simmering beneath the surface.

With deliberate slowness, Jonathan reached for the silky coat draped over your body, sliding it off your shoulders with one fluid motion. The fabric fell to the floor, pooling around your feet, leaving you standing there in the black lingerie you knew he adored. His breath hitched, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he took in the sight before him.

The lingerie clung to your curves, the sheer black fabric leaving little to the imagination. Intricate lace patterns adorned the cups, framing your chest in a way that was both delicate and provocative. Thin straps crisscrossed over your torso, highlighting your waist, while the sheer fabric cascaded down, barely covering the tops of your thighs. The black lace was cut in such a way that it hinted at more, teasing him, daring him to explore further.

Jonathan’s breathing became shallow, his eyes locked onto you as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. "You really do know how to get under my skin," he murmured, his voice hoarse as he stepped closer, his hands tracing the outline of the lace. “You wore this... just for me?”

You nodded slightly, your skin tingling under his touch. His fingers trailed along the delicate fabric, his restraint faltering as he admired every inch of you. "Good girl," he whispered, the praise low and possessive, sending a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking eye contact, Jonathan leaned in again, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that made your heart race. This kiss was different—fiercer, more demanding—as he poured all his desire into it. You melted against him, feeling the weight of his body against yours.

In one swift motion, he removed his vest and necktie, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. The smooth fabric of his shirt clung to his form as he slipped it off, revealing the taut lines of his chest and arms. Your breath caught at the sight, his body a perfect blend of strength and control.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he took your wrists, binding them together behind your back with his necktie. The gesture was possessive, a reminder that you were his, and the thrill of being restrained sent a rush of excitement through you.

With a gentle push, Jonathan guided you back toward the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment your back hit the mattress, he hovered above you, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses along your abdomen, trailing up to your neck, where he nibbled lightly, teasingly, as if savoring every moment.

“You have no idea how perfect you are,” he whispered against your skin, each word laced with fervent desire. He continued kissing his way back to your lips, his voice low and filled with promise. “I could breed you right now, make you mine in every way.”

His lips found yours again, deeper and more passionate, as he whispered more pleasurable words that made your skin tingle and your body ache for him. “You were made for this,” he murmured between kisses, his hands exploring the curve of your waist, igniting a fire within you that was impossible to ignore.

As Jonathan continued to kiss you, his hands roaming your body, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you. Your knees began to buckle, the sensations overwhelming as you squirmed beneath him, searching for more friction, more connection. Each subtle movement sent sparks coursing through your veins, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach.

Jonathan noticed immediately, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He pulled back slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement and desire. "What do you want, love?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, relishing the power he held over you.

You bit your lip, your breath coming in quick gasps as you looked up at him, eyes filled with need. “Please,” you begged, your voice trembling with urgency. “I want you... I need you to take me.”

His smirk widened, satisfaction radiating from him at your plea. “Is that what you really want?” he taunted, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. “To feel me inside you?”

“Yes! Please, Jonathan,” you begged, the desperation in your voice making it clear just how much you craved him. You felt vulnerable, yet utterly alive, and the anticipation sent a shiver down your spine.

“Good girl,” he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips again, the kiss a mixture of passion and possession. “I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

With a low, sultry laugh, Jonathan’s hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness. You watched, breathless, as he pulled his belt free, the leather falling to the floor with a soft thud. Next, he unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down his hips until they pooled at his ankles, leaving him clad only in his boxers.

He stepped closer, the heat radiating off him as he locked his eyes onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you, the air thick with anticipation. “Now, tell me again,” he said, his voice a deep growl, “What do you want?”

Your heart raced, the need for him consuming your thoughts. “I want you, Jonathan,” you replied, your voice a soft plea. “I need you to take me, to claim me as yours.”

"Fuck," he says with a low growl, Jonathan removed his boxers, exposing himself fully as he stepped closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you. As he aligned himself with your entrance, he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “You were just made for this, weren’t you, love?”

Without warning, he pushed into you hard, filling you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, a mix of surprise and overwhelming pleasure as he bottomed out. You felt him stretching you, the sensation igniting a fire within you.

“Jonathan,” you moaned, your body arching to meet him as he began to move, he placed his arms behind your back as he thrusts deliberately and powerful. The world around you faded away, leaving only the rhythm of his body against yours and the electric connection between you.

His thrusts became faster, harder, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You could feel your climax building, as his thumb drew circles on you clit, the tension coiling tighter with each movement. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You feel so good around me.”

As you neared the edge, he leaned down, kissing you deeply, swallowing your moans as you spiraled into your first climax. Your body quaked, waves of ecstasy washing over you as he continued to thrust, riding the waves of your pleasure.

“Look at you,” he growled, watching your face with a predatory gaze. “So beautiful when you come apart for me. I want to see you do it again.”

The words sent another shock of pleasure through you, and you felt yourself approaching another orgasm. Jonathan picked up his pace, his hips driving into you relentlessly, urging you closer and closer. “Come for me again,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “I want to feel you clench around me.”

With a final thrust, you tumbled over the edge again, your body quaking as your second climax took you by storm. You cried out, a mixture of pleasure and desperation, and Jonathan’s grip on your hips tightened as he surged deeper.

“Fuck, take it!” he groaned, his own climax building as he thrust into you one last time. “Take my fucking seed, princess. Be filled with my seed and carry my child, angel.”

As he released himself deep inside you, you felt the warmth spreading, a final wave of bliss washing over you. Screaming as the world blurred at the edges, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment of connection, pleasure, and possessiveness.

As the tension in the room began to dissipate, Jonathan huffed and puffed, catching his breath. He looked down at you, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “You’re absolutely perfect,” he said, his voice low and warm. “The way that lingerie hugs your body, it was made for me. Your breasts bounce just right for me to enjoy.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your skin as he pressed gentle kisses to your breasts, savoring the way they felt beneath his mouth. Each kiss sent a thrill through you, and your breath hitched, the sensation making your heart race. You loved being worshipped like this, the feeling of his admiration washing over you, igniting a fire of desire deep within.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with reverence. He pulled back slightly to admire the way the lingerie framed your figure before carefully removing himself from you. You felt a rush of emptiness at his absence, but he quickly set to work, cleaning you off with gentle hands, his touch almost reverent.

After making sure you were taken care of, he leaned down again to press a soft kiss to your lips, lingering just a moment longer. “Such a good girl,” he whispered against your mouth, his tone affectionate and possessive. He reached behind you, deftly untying the necktie that had bound your wrists, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

With a smile, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. “How was your day?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It was long,” he replied, nuzzling against your hair. “But coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.”

You both lay back against the bed, the night wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. As you nestled into his side, the warmth and safety enveloping you made you forget all about the world outside—and the circumstances that had brought you together.

In that moment, it felt like everything was perfect, just as it should be, and you let the worries of the past fade away into the night, content to simply be with him.

-----

🐧Damn... Rollercoaster it was to write this XD I hope it gave off Stockholm syndrome aha :"D Anyways I loved Jonathan Crane on this fic :"3 his the possesive I need >:D but at the same time its kinda... lovely how he abducted us like we were a stray cat and never letting us go out but also respecting our privacy by having his own room too. Yeah he has his own room but he comes to yours becuase he likes sleeping with you better. Anyways hope you enjoyed it hehe ^^🐧

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[divaofmads]

Lover Headcanon

Pairing Jonathan Crane x Female Reader x Edward Nygma

Summary: Crane touches your fears, while Nygma locks onto your mind. One tries to solve you, the other memorizes you. Neither can associate losing you with staying sane.

Warnings: +18, Smut, Psychological manipulation, Obsessive behavior, Power imbalance, Dubious consent (emotional and psychological), Dark romantic themes, Possessiveness / control dynamics, Touch aversion and intimacy issues, Discussions of fear and trauma, Fetishization of mental/emotional control, Potential toxic relationship dynamics, English is not my first language so excuse my mistakes. I write purely as a hobby, not as a professional.

Word Count: +3k

Dividers by @cafekitsune photos by Pinterest

A/N: First time diving into the headcanon format! Still figuring out where the line between headcanon and imagine is, but I tried to keep it focused and atmospheric. Thank you for reading—I’d love to know what you think.

Dr. Jonathan Crane 💉

• How You Met? First Impressions:

Imagine you're a psychiatrist at Arkham. That day, when Jonathan saw you for the first time — the moment he noticed you — it wasn’t an ordinary introduction. In his world, people generally fall into two categories: the observed and the ignored.

You... you were one of the unignorable.

The first thing that caught his attention was your eyes. They held a glimmer of someone who wants to know, but isn't afraid to question. Most people settle for the permission to observe. But you... you looked like you'd come there to lose yourself.

He was passing through the corridor, files in hand. You lifted your head. Eye contact — just a second — but in Jonathan’s mind, it echoed like a bell that wouldn’t stop ringing.

• Morally Grey Love Interest:

Jonathan elevates you — he praises your intellect, your intuition, your emotional depth. But then, he begins to dismantle you. Subtly. At first, you won’t even notice. He might bring up a fear of yours “coincidentally.” You’ll think you’re in control… until he uses it against you in the middle of an argument.

Why does he do it?

Because for him, love is synonymous with power. He doesn’t necessarily want to dominate the one he loves — but he needs to be superior.

And if your intellect and insight begin to threaten that sense of superiority, something inside him — that old, festering inadequacy — begins to surface… and then he starts to see you as a mental experiment.

Being with him would be intoxicating, consuming, and destructive. He sharpens your mind — but leads you right to the edge of darkness. If you want to survive this relationship, you’ll have to guard your sense of self without getting pulled into his games.

Otherwise, you won’t be Jonathan Crane’s lover — you’ll be something he created.

• Acts of Service:

He’s no romantic. But if he senses a threat, he’ll act — first by analyzing you, then by protecting you. Because your mental integrity is valuable to him. He loves your mind.

He hides sensitive information to protect you. Keeps you away from dangerous patients without ever telling you why.

When he notices your insomnia, he leaves you strong but effective medication — quietly, no explanation — “Make your own decision,” he’ll say.

• Quality Time:

Time with you isn’t about sharing — it’s about observing. But over time, without realizing it, he begins to let you in.

He stays late to analyze case files with you.

When he goes to get coffee, he doesn’t ask if you want any — but always brings one for you.

He works in his office without locking the door — because you’re the only one allowed to enter.

• Receiving Gifts:

One day he gives you a small toy, a scented eraser, or a piece of merch from an old cartoon you loved as a child. You never told him about it. But somehow… he knew.

The note is simple: “This made you who you are. I won’t let you forget.”

He leaves you a journal — a clinical analysis of your fears. Not emotional — scientific:

“January 10th — Avoided eye contact in the afternoon. Topic at the time: spiders. Direction of gaze aversion: lower right. Suggests fear related to memory.”

It’s a psychological file — but written with care. A mirror of sorts.

He gives you an old, worn book. Scattered between the pages are handwritten notes:

“Did you remember me after this page?”

“The shadow inside you... it looks like this paragraph.”

It’s both an intellectual offering and a coded love letter — a way he frames the relationship.

• What He Loves About You:

Your refusal to hide from fear. Your stubbornness. Your resistance. You don’t surrender easily to his manipulation. Sometimes, you defy him with nothing but your eyes. And to him, that’s intoxicating. Your openness to his mind games.

He can talk to you in symbols. Ask you to interpret your dreams.

When you lean in with fascination, you pull him into a place no one else has ever reached.

• Your Sex Life:

It would be BDSM-based — but far deeper, far more psychological.

Thanks to Scarecrow, Jonathan believes fear is an erotic emotion. Fear — or the act of inducing it — is what arouses him the most. So he needs to be sure he’s analyzed you perfectly.

Fear toxin will be part of your fantasies. Low doses — not enough to cause hallucinations — just enough to sharpen the edges of whatever you're afraid of.

He uses sensory deprivation to push you out of your body and into your mind. Blindfolds. Noise-cancelling headphones. Restraints. When your senses are taken away, every touch feels ten times more intense. Fear. Arousal. Curiosity.

It all blends together. If you have a fear of puppets, he’ll tell you you are one. If you fear the dark, he’ll fuck you in pitch black. If it’s spiders… you’ll feel the legs on your skin.

He uses mirrors and masks. In the reflection, you’ll see every reaction your body makes — in horrifying detail. With the mask, he hides himself to strip you open.

Denial is his addiction. He can bring you to the edge, feel your pulse, your trembling, your contractions, then stop. He sits down. And watches you.

He restrains his own touch. Sometimes he prefers to come just from watching you need him. For Jonathan, the ultimate thrill is not telling you what to do — but making you want to do it.

This is where mind control fantasy begins: “If I were in your place… what would I do to me? Come on. Do what you feel. I planted it there.”

He doesn’t punish — he reprograms. If you disobey his rules, you must be reshaped.

He may ask you to have sex with his alter ego. He carries two personas in one body: Jonathan Crane and Scarecrow. He wears the mask. You’re no longer with the man, you’re with the monster.

To be desired by something terrifying and powerful. That’s how he teaches you the meaning of submission.

He’ll whisper: “Jonathan might love you. But Scarecrow… He wants to consume you.”

• Jealousy:

When Jonathan Crane is jealous... It’s never a simple "him or me" situation. He doesn't feel jealousy like others do.

"I'm not jealous. I'm doing what’s right."

He begins passive-aggressively. Uses intellectual superiority. Mocks the other man’s intelligence with surgical sarcasm.

“He told you about Wernicke’s area. How... impressive.”

If he sees him as a real threat, he investigates. Finds weaknesses. Plans how to ruin his status, reputation, even his psyche.

If you’ve been physically close recently, his jealousy manifests as control more intense. More possessive.

He’ll try to overwrite the idea of anyone else. Make you repeat his name until the thought of someone else vanishes.

He’ll say: “Did he touch you? Even if he did, you won’t remember. Because tonight, I’ll rewrite you.”

If you break his control...

If you question him, resist him, disobey him —It won’t just hurt his pride. It will fracture the very foundation of how he sees himself.

“Do you think you’re smarter than me? No. It’s just… a coincidence. I couldn’t solve you because… YOU are not normal.”

He won’t see you as an enemy. He’ll become obsessed.

If you don’t leave — if you stay in the game, even after defying him — that’s the most dangerous point. He won’t stop loving you. But love will no longer mean letting you go. It’ll mean owning you.

And he’ll say: “I love you too much to let you leave. If you try to go… That decision will no longer be yours.”

He wants to both punish you and bind you more tightly.

He builds a mental logic like: "I have to love you in order to understand you."

Sexually, this can turn into a more intense, boundary-pushing passion.

But this passion is not pure desire; it's a need to reclaim your mind and body.

• What He Hates / Can’t Tolerate

- Sudden physical contact (especially in crowds)

- Superficial conversations

- Fear being mocked or made light of

- Excessive optimism / comments like “Everything will be fine”

• His Ideal Dates

- Spending time in a quiet, isolated library

- Studying old psychology files together

- Debating fear-based experiments (Romantic? To him, yes)

- Walking through an abandoned campus on a rainy day

- Nights where he analyzes your dreams

• Pet Names

- "Subject Y/N" (half-joking, but also a little too real)

- "Darling" (started out ironically, but grew into something sincere)

- "My little anomaly"

- Says your real name clearly and deliberately — affects you with his tone

• Welcome to the inside of his mind:

Edward Nygma 🧩

• Fear of Abandonment / Becoming Addicted to You

When Edward begins to love you, it’s not an ordinary affection — it becomes an existential need. In his eyes, you’re not just his partner; you are the only fixed point in his mental chaos. His attachment to you becomes like a person’s need to breathe.

Every minute spent by your side silences the noise in his head. It quiets the Riddler. But he becomes so used to that peace, he gets addicted to it. He starts believing you must be there whenever he needs you — in your absence, he feels emptiness and a loss of control.

If you don’t respond for a few hours, for example:

- He begins calculating all the possibilities. ("Did she lose interest?", "Is she with someone?")

- He starts constructing entire scenes in his mind, convinced that whatever is pulling you away must be fixed.

• Panic Attacks Triggered by the Fear of Losing You

These panic attacks are usually set off by: an argument, you ignoring him for a while, or him thinking he saw you with someone else.

In a panic episode:

He breathes rapidly, crouches down, and clutches his head.

He whispers to himself: “She’s just angry… it’ll pass… she won’t leave me… she wouldn’t DO that…”

The sentence he repeats most often: “Don’t leave me.”

If he doesn’t hear your voice, he might damage his surroundings — not you, but himself, out of rage and despair.

He tries to hide these attacks. But if you’re there during one, he’ll suddenly cling to you, bury his face in your chest, and try to calm down just by listening to your heartbeat.

• Whispering “I Love You” Like a Threat

This phrase takes on a different weight when he’s in Riddler mode.

Normal Edward:

When he says “I love you,” there’s softness in his voice.

But when he shifts into the Riddler — his eyes dimmer, his voice lower and rougher — he says:

 “I love you. That’s why I’ll do whatever I have to. Do you understand?”

In his world, love becomes a vow, a threat, even a seal. To him, loving you means possessing you, being responsible for you, and declaring that no one else can ever have you.

In the middle of the night, leaning close to your ear, he might whisper:

“I love you... because I can’t let anyone else love you.”

And then, he may act completely calm — because the threat has been made clear.

• Nightmares and Sleep States

Edward’s mind never truly goes quiet. Not even in sleep. When he's falling asleep, he tries to calm his brain by counting numbers or mumbling mathematical formulas to himself.

Sometimes, as he's curled up beside you with his head under your arm, you whisper, “Edward... just sleep already.”

But he still mutters through his teeth. “5... 3... 7... No, that’s wrong. That’s wrong…”

His nightmares aren't just about things he’s done in the past — they’re about the possibility of losing you in the future.

One night he wakes up in terror, soaked in sweat. He clings to your chest, trembling. His eyes are hazy, his mind still not fully back in reality.

“They can’t take you. No one... no one can take you from me...”

He’s still halfway in the nightmare. Even as you gently stroke his back, he trembles like a frightened child. But after a while, his arms tighten around you. He starts counting your breaths.

Some mornings, it’s not Edward who wakes up — it’s the Riddler. He stares at you with cold eyes.

“Shall we test how much I deserve you this morning?” he says.

Suddenly, a puzzle is left at your feet. Or maybe during breakfast, there’s a small piece of paper in your coffee:

“The secret of breakfast is three letters. If you don’t answer, I won’t speak.”

He feels satisfied when you solve it. But if you don’t, he watches you in silence all day. He smiles, but his eyes do not.

These little tests are the product of his obsession with you, his desire for control, and his need to exalt your intelligence. Even though he places you above all else, he still needs to feel superior.

One day, while using your hairbrush in the bathroom, you find a small box.

Inside are a few strands of your hair and... tiny notes:

“May 11. Today she called me ‘darling’ for the first time.”

“This strand of hair got caught in the shirt she wore that day. I smelled that shirt all day long.”

Sometimes when you speak without realizing, Edward secretly records your voice. Later, while working in his lab or when he’s alone, he listens to those recordings: your laughter, the words you mumble in your sleep, even moments when you're angry…

When he makes a mistake, when a plan fails, or when he despises himself... he breathes and imagines you. He remembers the scent of your skin, the curve of your shoulder, the rhythm of your voice.

To calm down, he repeats one line to himself:

“She loves me. She’s still here. She’s the meaning behind everything.”

• Protection / Possessiveness

In a city like Gotham, Edward’s way of protecting you can be summed up in one word: preemptive aggression.

He keeps a mental list of everyone who could potentially harm you.

If someone follows you from behind, he discreetly makes sure they disappear.

If someone bothers you, he leaves an intelligent yet unsettling threat note. (And you never find out.)

But if he sees you smiling a little too much at someone else?

In that moment, he becomes the Riddler. Silent, calculating, burning with quiet jealousy.

• Riddler's Pet Names for You

- Puzzle Piece: This nickname means a lot to him. You are the one who fills the gaps in his mind. He doesn’t just see you as a lover, but as the missing piece of his puzzle.

- My Constant: Using a scientific term is typical of him. By calling you his “constant,” he likens you to a mathematical fixed value. In the equation of his life, you are the unchanging variable.

- My Equation: Clever, romantic, and disturbingly obsessed. In his eyes, you’re an equation where every path leads back to you.

• Your Sex Life:

For Edward, mental compatibility comes before sexuality. "Preparing" you mentally is, for him, a form of physical interaction in its own right.

He leaves you small boxes: inside them, old notes, scribbled words, a perfume sample, and after a while… maybe fingerprints smudged on your lipstick.

You must solve each one; every solution brings you a step closer to him.

- On your first correct answer, a brief kiss on the corner of your lips.

- On the second answer, a long, lingering kiss—then he suddenly pulls away.

- In the final stage, his tone persuades you to surrender, slowly:

"You already know the answer… So when will you give yourself to me?"

For Riddler, this process is the act of conquering your mind and body together. In his view, true desire isn’t something guessed—it’s something earned.

In the early stages, as introverted Edward, he's shy in his sex life. But as he embraces the Riddler identity, his more dominant and darker sides begin to surface.

Roles: He positions himself as a "god who asks questions."

Your Role: The one who answers, tries to solve, and slowly unravels as she does.

Each correct answer gives him power, each mistake is an excuse to “punish” you — but these punishments usually end up rewarding you. That means:

The apparent purpose of punishment: discipline, control.

The true purpose: erotic tension and mutual pleasure.

Edward never loves “lightly.” Sexuality, for him, is a form of claiming. That’s why after sex, he leaves reminders on your body to show you belong to him. For example, a bruise on your neck. Then he watches you — almost as if he's noting down what you feel when you see those marks.

The simplest of your belongings can be triggers for him, and he wants physical contact with them while being intimate with you. For example, sometimes he holds your pen while kissing you, because you once touched him with it. Maybe he wears the glasses you lent him for a day. He looks in the mirror, trying to see how you see him. Then slowly removes them and places them beside his bed.

"Seeing through your eyes… more arousing than I expected," he says.

Outside the home, his preferred places to have sex with you are abandoned spots around the city or hidden laboratories.

As your relationship with Edward Nygma progresses, he will begin to reveal other sides of himself. During your sexual encounters, he won’t be satisfied with old fantasies—he will develop a deeper interest in sadomasochistic themes. For example, he will prepare riddles for you, and if you fail to solve them, he will punish you. These punishments may become more professionally crafted. The green light that symbolizes him, a metal chair, and custom-designed coded handcuffs become essential elements of his punishments. Moreover, your fear mixed with excitement will only arouse him more.

He might say: His hand lifts your chin as he says, "You know how much I’ll enjoy delivering your punishment, don’t you? Sometimes intelligence hurts." Suddenly, he loses his composure. With veins bulging, he whispers, "Now it’s your turn. The question is: Can you pass through pain to reach the reward?"

And in that moment, at the border where sadistic pleasure meets aesthetic beauty, Riddler will push your limits with both delicacy and force. Before every “punishment,” a small riddle; with each answer, an increasing level of touch. A mental game where you swing between pain and pleasure...

• Things He Can't Tolerate / Dislikes

- Mental laziness: To him, “empty talk” or shallow ideas are a waste of time.

- Leaving sentences unfinished: Especially when you’re trying to explain something but stop halfway or aren’t clear. He gets irritated. “Am I supposed to figure it out? Is this a riddle?” he thinks inwardly.

- Ignoring him / showing indifference: While he’s observing you, if you give more attention to something (or someone) else, he sees it as an insult. He won’t forgive it easily.

- Being jealous (irrationally): He wants you to know how intelligent and attractive he is—but he expects pride, not jealousy. If you act possessive, he silently thinks, “You still don’t understand me,” and starts crafting a mental game to punish you.

- Not reacting: If he surprises you or makes a clever remark and you show no reaction at all, he takes it personally. “What, you didn’t think that was brilliant?” echoes in the silence.

• Gifts He Would Give You:

A personal cipher journal: Custom-made just for you, filled with secret messages and encrypted notes he's written. Some pages are left blank—those are for puzzles he hasn’t given you yet.

A timer / hourglass: He wants to emphasize the value of time. A note is attached: *“Time can never be wasted when it’s with you.”*

A complex puzzle game (hiding a meaningful gift inside): Once you solve it, it reveals a small necklace, a note, or an object that refers to a childhood memory.

A box containing your small personal items: But he doesn’t give it to you directly. He wants you to stumble upon it by chance one day.

• His mind, in melodies:

[adhdnursegoat]

Hello, welcome to my curated collection of questionable decisions, emotional damage, unsolicited genius, and Gotham-grade intimacy, starring one very high-maintenance man in green.

Sometimes the lights go out, and you don't bother finding the switch.

Sometimes he finds you reading smut about him.

Sometimes you're just trying to do your job.

Sometimes he's pretending you don't undo him with a look.

And sometimes—just sometimes—you both act like this isn’t the most important thing that's ever happened to either of you.

Features: accidental confessions, emotional constipation, too much eye contact, not enough self-control, a wellness journal Edward swears isn’t going to work, exactly zero logical coping strategies, and smut, smut, smut!

There are no rules. Only regrets and ridiculous amounts of tension.

Masterlist below:

In the Event of a Blackout - Arkham Knight Riddler x gn reader

This is Not a Drill - Young Justice Riddler x gn reader

Asset Extraction - Young Justice Riddler x fem reader

Puppy Love - Young Justice Riddler x fem reader

Oral Exam - Arkham City Riddler x gn reader (with mentions of a vagina)

Low Power Mode - Arkham Knight Riddler x gn reader

A Study in Wreckage - BTAS Riddler x gn reader w/ long hair

Informed Consent - Arkhamverse Riddler x fem nurse reader

Intellect ≠ Immunity - Arkhamverse Riddler character study (nonfiction)

Palustrine Dreams - Young Justice Riddler x fem reader

Unauthorized Biography - Arkhamverse Riddler x fem reader

Gone Girl - Arkhamverse Riddler x fem reader

Gone Girl: Damage Control - Arkhamverse Riddler x fem reader

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Good Enough - Edward Nashton (The Riddler) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Edward has never felt good enough for anyone or anything. When the self-help resources fail to work and the feelings of inadequacy grow stronger by the day, he begins to doubt that he's even worthy of being loved, but you're there to comfort him and remind him of just how much he matters.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Minor spoilers for Riddler: Year One, a lot of angst, hurt with comfort, fluff, mentions of smut (but no actual smut)

Repulsive. Broken. Unwanted. Not good enough. The words he told himself had buried their way into his thoughts, repeating themselves like a twisted mantra that never ended, even with the constant use of every self-help tip and coping skill he had learned. That same mantra had been there so long that he couldn't remember when it had first started.

Maybe it was never something new at any point; maybe it was just the truth that he kept trying to deny with ledgers filled line to line with positive affirmations that he could never convince himself of. 'You are good enough.' No, he wasn't. He never would be. He was fighting a losing battle against himself.

At least at the end of the day, he had someone to come back home to, someone who told him every day how much she loved him. Before he had met you his only form of salvation was his puzzles, like it had always been since he was a young child. With you here, though, he had more than just riddles and crosswords online and in the local paper to look forward to after a long workday. You were the only good thing that Gotham City had to offer. You were an angel, his angel.

He unlocked the door to his apartment and closed it behind him, a smile making its way onto his face at the sound of your shoes against the wooden floor as you made your way from the bedroom and toward him. You grinned widely as you saw him, your arms outstretched and wide open before you wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Hi," He murmured in greeting, hugging you back as he nuzzled his face into your soft, beautiful hair. You smiled even wider, looking up at him with eyes that always made him melt with just a single look into his own. "How was work, Eddie?" You questioned, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"It was—" He paused, trying to find the right words. Shit. It was shit. His boss was a condescending, passive-aggressive, arrogant prick who slacked off more than he worked and still managed to be more successful in his career than Edward had ever been. As much as he wanted to vent, he didn't want to burden you with more than he already was by being with you.

"Fine." He finally decided, putting on a fake smile. "Same old calculations and whatnot. Nothing interesting." He lied. It was another day of statements from Zach that were insulting enough to strike a nerve, but not obvious enough to report to HR. Not like it'd matter, it would probably get swept under the rug and forgotten about. Some days Edward wondered if his superior was actually the pompous dick he thought him to be or just an idiot with confidence.

"Oh." You could see right that smile on his face. Something was bothering him like it had been for days now and you could tell. It broke your heart knowing he was struggling and that same struggle left him unable to feel okay confiding in anyone. "Are you sure...?" You questioned, a hand moving upwards to cup his cheek gently, the man leaning into your comforting touch.

He had lied to you. How could you lie to her? You manipulative, disgusting freak. As the thoughts filled his head, guilt washed over him. God, he didn't deserve you. He didn't deserve your affection, and most certainly not your love. Did he deserve any love at all? Was there anything to love about—

"Eddie?" Came your soft voice, the sound like that of an angel. He broke himself out of his thoughts, smiling at you again. "I think I'm gonna go pick us up some takeout for dinner. What do you want?" He changed the subject, moving away from you and back towards the door.

"No." You said a bit sternly, grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the nearby couch, sitting down with him. "You're not getting out of this that easily. Tell me what's wrong, Eddie."

"It's not you, I promise that it's not." He insisted quickly, afraid he had upset you with his earlier lie. She's going to leave you. She never should've been yours to begin with. You ruin every good thing you get. He grew tense as the fears filled him and threatened to consume him whole. You were so perfect, so deserving of every amazing thing the world had to offer and more, and he was just... Edward Nashton.

"Woahwoahwoah!" Your hands shot forward at the sight of tears beginning to well up in his eyes, your thumbs wiping them away as they fell. "I'm not mad, honey. I just—" You stopped, unsure how to phrase things. "I'm worried about you. You can tell me anything, as cliche as that sounds. You're not a burden to me; you never have been, and you never will be."

He buried his head into your shoulder, sobbing into it as your arms came to hold him close to you. "Why? Why do you love me? I–I don't understand..." He cried softly against you. "All of these years you've spent with me and I can't comprehend why. Is it out of pity?" He asked. While to anyone else it would've sounded like a bold accusatory remark, you knew that the question was genuine. He needed to know.

"Look at me, Edward." You commanded gently, him moving so he could face you and meet your eyes with his own. The sight of tears running down his face and wettening his glasses broke your heart. "Three years we've been together. In those three years, I've fallen more in love with you than I have anyone else. We've made love more times than I can count. I even wait for the day you'll put a ring on my finger, no matter which one it is. It could be made out of scrap metal for all I care, as long as it's from you.

You're smart, Eddie. Tell me, does everything I just listed sound like I only pity you? Or does it sound like I'm head-over-heels in love with the man in front of me? You are good enough. I love you, Edward Nashton."

That made him cry even harder, but you were there to hold him, just as you had been since you stumbled into his life. If he wasn't good enough for himself, then at least he was good enough for his angel. You wanted a ring on your finger? He'd get you one in due time. Anything for the one who showed him that he could be loved, that he wasn't some type of vermin in the cesspool that was Gotham City. You are good enough. For once, he believed it.

[420korn]

BY THE SEA

⛧ when you and dwayne leave the dreadful beauty pageant to get some fresh air some things spill out, more than intended for the day.

- no warnings!! maybe mild cursing

(dwayne x fem! reader)

as you and dwayne flop on the worn-out chairs in the random room you two stumbled in you sighed.

this whole roadtrip that dwayne basically begged you to go on was chaotic to say the least. his grandpa passed away, he found out he couldn’t fly jets, that damn horn on the car wouldn’t shut up, but you still were there for dwayne.

you really liked dwayne. it was a miracle that he actually allowed you to talk to him and become somewhat apart of his life. he didn’t let anyone do that. you had to admit you have a crush on him. but you knew he didn’t like you, most definitely not.

you snapped out of your hazy thoughts as two little girls ran across the hall. giggling in puffy skirts, tons of makeup they didn’t need, and reeking of fake spray tan mixed with strong fruity perfume.

you had already had enough of that shit after seeing a room full of girls who looked like that. as you were about to sit up and ask dwayne to leave he spoke for you

“let’s get out of here.”

“yes please. my head hurts from all the colors.”

-🦇

you two ended up on the pier, watching as the waves clashed with each other and people screaming with joy. you smiled to yourself.

you took a glance at dwayne, knowing that it was stupid because if you looked you wouldn’t be able to pry your eyes away.

you looked at his dyed jet black hair flowing in the wind, his shirt going in all different directions as he leaned up against the wood.

he finally looked up at you, feeling the pair of admiring eyes on him.

“what?” he said with a grin

“nothing.. im sorry for everything that happened today. it’s been fucking crazy.”

“it’s okay really. im sorry for making you come with me. if i knew it was gonna be this bad i wouldn’t have even thought you should’ve came.”

“no it’s okay! im happy i came. im happy i was able to comfort you..” you said taking a risk with this response.

dwayne’s face slightly heated up at this comment, even if the winds made it as cold as ever.

“i have a question though..why did you ask for me to come?”

dwayne’s face heated up even more. he thought it was obvious why he asked for you to come, why he said if you came he would go. dwayne was head over heels for you. you both had the same music taste, sense of humor, style, and he thought you were stunning. the way you tried so hard to adjust to him and his calmer life style made him even more in love.

he honestly didn’t know whether to hide his admiration by making a quick white lie..or to truly show his feelings.

dwayne stared down at the ocean with one thing on his mind ‘fuck it’.

now dwayne would never have this type of confidence, but some random talk with his uncle frank about how you only live once, and to do whatever you want and fuck the rest, got him to change his thinking

“i thought it would be obvious.” he said trying to make it subtle.

“what do you mean?” you said confused.

“i like you.”

it was silent..the wind blowing across the sea becoming louder and louder as dwayne looked and read your face.

nothing…

but then..a shy smile. he didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he let out a deep sigh.

“really?”

“yeah..i’ve liked you for a while ya know..”

you smiled even harder at him, more red and pink tints filling your cheeks. he was trying hard to not smile but couldn’t help it.

“youre so cute” you said focusing on his eyes.

he looked down, embarrassed by how hot his face was.

you slowly crept over to him, closing the distance between you two. you reached for his hand on the railing and held his pinky with your own, not wanting to move too quickly.

he picked himself up off the railing looking at you for a moment and back to the ocean

that’s when he felt a pair of lips softly kiss his cheeks, the gloss in which covered your lips definitely staining it. he looked down at you, a grin on your face.

“you ready to go inside?” you said now taking his hand in yours.

>🎱🐼📖

THATS IT!!! bro i know months ago i said i would post more, BUT I HAD NO IDEAS. this just came to mind when i was randomly watching little miss sunshine for the 20th time. plzplzplz request some stuff so i can have motivation to post and have good ideas PLEASE!!!!

thank you for reading !! 🦈💤🤍

[starshinesluvr]

some old semi accurate height differences i drew a few months ago, wanted to practice proportions.. maybe ill redraw this soon (..◜ᴗ◝..) + fem eddie teehee ♡

[fa1rysugar]

Stalker!

Edward Nygma x Fem Reader

CW - Stalking, Noncon, Creepy behavior, No actual sex, Not proofread, and OOC.

If you choose to continue that was your choice.

A/N - I haven't written in so long so this is probably really shitty, sorry.

You were so pretty, so oblivious to the cameras spread around your house. The grimy man watching you on the other side, practically drooling over you doing domestic tasks. You'd be such a good housewife for him!

His green eyes glance over the different monitors on his desk, one in your living room, your kitchen, your bedroom, and his favorite place, your shower. His hand trailed down to his slacks his hand palming over his hardening cock not once taking his eyes off of you.

You were so pretty, and all of it was for him, whether you wanted it to be or not. He'd take anyone out who even looked at you in a way he didn't like. You were his, even if you didn't know it yet. His eyes watched as soap ran down your body, your hands running over your body.

His hand slipped into his slacks wrapping around his hard cock. His strokes slow and deliberate. He'd have you one day, one day you would be all his. He'd be able to touch you, to hold you, to make love to you. He'd be the happiest man on earth.

His hand sped up as you were finishing your shower, his tip leaking all over his boxers leaving a wet stain in them. He groaned and ended off with a whine as he spilled in his hand. His cum leaking onto his slacks leaving a wet spot.

He'd have you one day, even if he had to take you against your will.

A/N - Thankz for reading this far :) Any activity is appreciated

[championofmyheart]

Rules ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊⁺⊹⋆₊˚⊹ᰔ

do not copy, modify, or repost my work as your own.

do not be vague with your requests. be descriptive and specific with what you want the fic to be about!!

please be patient & polite with me, I am a student with lots of responsibilities so I may not respond to your request immediately 😭I will not be responding to any rude asks <3

I write for gender-neutral, fem, masc, & plus-sized readers.

I focus on sfw works! slightly suggestive is fine with me but I do not write smut at the moment.

besides the non-negotiable regulations, I am open to any and all types of fics.

this includes (coloured are my favs :3)

hurt/comfort

angst

fluff

slightly suggestive

sh comfort / or any type of comfort

sibling au

any aus' (esp when it comes to Ethan Landry !!)

mainly writing for

Scream American horror story Across the spider verse Mcu Evan Peters (characters) Paul Dano (characters) Jack Champion (characters)

feel free to request either way! I am multifandom, these are just my favs <3

all fics will be under the tag "champion of my heart fics ≽^•⩊•^≼"

[writing-blog-iguess]

Oswald Cobblepot

Summery: Cass and Steph requested a story about her and Penguin. How they met, Bruce trying to convince her to quit working for Penguin, and her last day.

Warning: really bad description of a fight, fluff maybe, angst maybe

A/N: I’ve had this in my drafts for months and it’s finally finished. Go me. As always feedback is welcome! And feel free to let me know who or what kind of story of Batmom you want to see next.

Ao3

-------

Given her job at the hospital and the clinic she sometimes volunteer’s at, she doesn’t get many days off. And when she has them, she takes them with a smile and relaxes outside underneath her favourite tree at Wayne Manor.

She’s happy and content at reading, and she smiles when Stephanie and Cassandra join her. They plop down on either side of her, and she starts reading out loud. Her smile only widens when the boys come out of the house to play a game of football.

And her morning is spent in a peace that she hasn’t seen in a while and she’s happy. It isn't until Alfred carries lunch out that Stephanie gets the ball rolling. “Mom, can you tell us a story?”

She raises an eyebrow at her, and laughs when she sees her boys tripping over themselves as they run towards them at the sight of food. “What kind of story would you like to hear?”

The two girls think about it for a minute. It’s Cassandra who spoke first. “Penguin.”

She shouldn’t be too surprised. The girls were away on a mission when the boys asked about her history with Harley. And when they got back, they were disappointed that they missed it. So they demanded their brothers to give them cliff notes of the stories.

“What about penguins?” Tim asked, as he plopped down beside Cass and grabbed for a plate of food. Stephanie promptly smacked his hand away. “Ow,” he whined, rubbing his hand. “What was that for?”

“You have to wait until everyone’s here, Tim. Otherwise, we don’t get food,” she said simply.

“Yeah, but if I don’t get a plate, Jason will eat everything,” he said just as Jason walked up behind him. Smacking the back of his head, Jason sits down beside Stephanie.

“I do not.” Tim, Steph and Cass gave him a pointed look causing him to huff. “So maybe I do. Can’t help it if Alfred’s food is better than my own.”

“Didn’t Alfred teach you?” Dick asked, taking a seat.

“Yeah, but before him Ma started teaching me. But that was before…” he trailed off. Jason’s death was still a sore spot for her. She hated talking about it, hating thinking about it. Hating herself and what she became when Bruce came home that night and told her what happened.

When Jason came back from the dead, she wasn’t the same. Don’t get it wrong, she was glad she had her Jason back. But there was a part of her that died when Jason did and it never came back. Since then, there was an unspoken rule of never talking about it around her. She appreciated the gesture, but sometimes it was unavoidable.

Clearing his throat, Tim repeated his question before their mother could spiral. “What about penguins?”

“Not penguins, Penguin. We’re trying to get mom to tell us stories about him,” Stephanie answered.

“Out of everyone Ummi knows, why him?” Damian asked, going to sit in front of her. She moved her legs and he sat down, leaning onto her chest. Stephanie shrugged, and grabbed a plate after getting an okay from Alfred.

“Why not? Besides, I want to know if he was always like that. Or if he changed once he became Gotham’s most wanted.” That had caused her to snort and everyone turned to her in question.

“You don’t want to wait for Bruce to come?” she asked instead of answering their question.

“I’m afraid Master Bruce is tied up at Wayne Enterprises,” Alfred said before anyone could, “but he did say he’ll be joining you later once the meeting is finished.”

So much for a perfect morning. Oh well, it can’t be helped.

“So, what exactly do you want to hear?”

---

“Come on Pumpkin,” Harley whined from her bed, stretching her arms out. “When was the last time you went out and had fun?”

She peered over her book, and raised an eyebrow at Harley. “During the summer when we didn’t have school. Harley, you should know this. You were there, and so was Selina.”

“Yeah, but we’re halfway through our second year and you need to let loose a little,” Harley retorted, “you can’t worry about school all the time.”

“Harley’s right,” someone else butted in before she could say anything. They looked towards the door and found Selina leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. “You need to let loose once and awhile. It’ll help you relax so you’re not stressing over homework. Who knows, maybe you’ll even get lucky if we go.”

She flushed at the meaning and hid her face in her book. “No, I don’t want to. Besides, even if we did go out, it’s not like we can go out to bars. We’re underage.”

“I know a place that let’s minors in,” Selina supplied. Harley squealed and rolled off her bed, landing on the floor beside her roommate. She pulled the book away from her and pouted.

“Please?”

Her resolve crumbled as she sighed. “Fine, I’ll go out with you tonight. But only for tonight!” she promised. Selina rolled her eyes while Harley clapped her hands in victory.

“Yay! Now we have to find something for you to wear.” She only groaned as she watched her friends raid her closet.

“The Iceberg Lounge?” she questioned as she looked up at the building where they stood in line. “It sounds classy. Are you sure they let minors in?”

“Positive,” Selina purred, looping her arms through hers and Harley’s. “I’ve been here before; I think you’ll like it.”

She hummed but looked unconvinced. “If you don’t like it, we can always leave. Just say the word and we’ll go somewhere else,” Harley said, smiling brightly, she returned it in thanks. Her heart thumped quickly at the thought of Harley looking out for her, but she ignored it in favour of trying not to ruin the night.

Soon enough they neared the front of the line. The bouncer raised an eyebrow, but Selina did most of the talking. After a minute or two, he sighed and let them in after telling them the rules.

The lounge was quiet when she stepped in. not the quiet that libraries have when one wants to study. It wasn’t loud like the clubs she used to sneak into with Bruce. It was somewhere in between, a respectable level of quietness/loudness that she found herself relaxing. This was a place she knew she would visit again.

“Selina! Baby, it’s been awhile,” the bartender called once the three of them walked closer to the bar.

Selina smiled and brought her arms to her side before leaning on the bar. “Hey Joe,” she greeted and ordered drinks for the three of them. Harley had dragged her away when she noticed Selina started flirting.

“Wonder if she never not flirted.” Harley mused as she found an empty table. Sliding into the seat beside Harley, she laughed.

“I don’t think she knows how,” she said. Harley looked at her and she shrugged as an answer. “I’ve known her since high school, I’ve seen her with anyone she deemed interesting.”

“Has she flirted with you?”

She flushed at the thought of her best friend ever flirting with her, but merely shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“She was too busy with her nose in a book,” Selina said from behind them. She jumped while Harley giggled, and turned to look at Selina in question. “But it wouldn’t have mattered, I didn’t really like her like that so my feelings weren’t hurt.”

She flushed again and turned back to the table with a small pout. “I wasn’t that bad,” she mumbled. Selina hummed and walked around in front of them, sliding their drinks to them.

“Right. But the stories I have, tell otherwise.”

The red on her cheeks darkened and she took a sip of her drink to help cool her down. “Can we not? I don’t want to go down memory lane. It’s embarrassing.”

“Awe, but Pumpkin,” Harley whined, giving her puppy dog eyes. She looked away and shook her head firmly. Harley pouted when she refused to look at her. “Fine. I’ll leave it for now.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving Harley a smile. She didn’t notice the blush creeping on Harley’s neck, but Selina did.

“Come on Harley, let’s go dance,” Selina said, standing as Harley nodded eagerly.

“Are you coming pumpkin?”

“She doesn’t dance,” Selina answered, grabbing Harley by the hand and dragged her towards the dance floor. She floundered for a bit but didn’t try to defend herself.

“You guys have fun. I’m fun here,” she called after them instead.

“If you’re sure,” Harley called, looking unsure. She smiled at her roommate and only then did Harley feel comfortable leaving her alone.

She watched her friends dance for a bit before pulling out her phone. Opening the internet, she scrolled through hoping to find a part time job. But nothing seemed to appeal to her.

Sighing, she closed the phone and set it down. Crossing her arms on the table, she rested her chin on her arms and smiled as she watched her friends dancing.

“Shouldn’t you be over there dancing instead of sitting here by yourself?” someone asked, and she trailed her eyes over to an older man sitting beside her with a hooked nose. She shrugged and looked back at her friends.

“I can’t dance very well, and I don’t want to be the reason why we go home early,” she replied. “I might step on their toes or something. I think it’s a mood killer.”

“Still, it’d been fun to dance for a bit.”

“Maybe.”

They lapsed in silence for a while before it became too much, she introduced herself. “Nice to meet you, Oswald Cobblepot.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” she replied, and still thinking about finding a job, she took the plunge and asked if he knew someone looking for people.

—

“Hold on,” Dick interrupted, waving his arms in front of him as the story faded. “You worked for Penguin?”

“Yup. Stayed there until I was done with my residency,” she answered, chewing on a strawberry. “Honestly, the best job I’ve ever had.”

“But why?” Tim asked, moving his plate to the side and went to lay on his stomach. She leaned back on the tree and wrapped her arms around Damien once they were done eating.

“Med school isn’t cheap you know, plus everything else. I needed the money,” she said, tilting her head a little. “But I had some conditions while working there, don’t worry.”

“Bet Dad didn’t like that.”

She laughed and shook her head. “Oh you have no idea.”

—

“Seriously? Penguin?” Bruce exclaimed, following her as she walked behind the bar. She rolled her eyes and bent down to pick up a crate, only for Bruce to take it out of her hands once she stood up.

“Bruce!”

“No, Bug. You need to listen, you can’t work for someone like Penguin,” Bruce stressed out. She gave him a look and grabbed for the crate, tugging. He didn’t let go.

“No Bruce, I can listen to you but I’m not doing what you want me to do,” she answered, tugging on the crate with force, this time he let go. “And besides, I don’t even know who Penguin is.”

Bruce gaped at her and watched as she moved the crate to the storage room. When she came back, she huffed. “What?”

“Do you watch the news? It’s everywhere,” Bruce said, and she tilted her head scrunching her nose in thought. “Seriously? You don’t pay attention to the news?”

“No? That’s why I have Harley and Johnathan for,” she teased, he gave her a pointed look. “What? I’m busy with school and work. So forgive me if I don’t have time to read what’s going on in Gotham and who’s fighting who.”

“You were never too busy to pay attention to the news growing up,” he countered.

“Things change, Bruce. You of all people should know that,” she said, and let it sit in the air as she picked up the clipboard with all the things she still needed to do before opening.

“Do you even know what he does? What secret meetings he has while you work out in the front? I can tell you, his next meeting is with Zsasz about-”

“Nope!” she shouted a little too loudly, dropping the clipboard with a clang and hurriedly covered his mouth with her hands, stopping him before he could finish the sentence. “No, don’t finish whatever you’re going to say.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow and stared at her, waiting for an explanation. “I am aware of what he might be doing,” she said slowly, ignoring the look of disbelief. “Shut up, Bruce. I know it sounds dumb, but if I don’t know what’s going on I can live my life.”

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard,” Bruce mumbled behind her hands. She shrugged and dropped her hands. “He’s a crook and you know that. And yet you still work for him?”

She turned around and picked up the clipboard, looking it over. “What I know and don't is fine. It works in my favour if I don't. You know, plausible deniability. Besides, I work out here serving drinks and cleaning and stuff. He knows that and won’t get me involved.”

“You’re already involved! You’re working for him. Besides, you can’t live your life like that, it’ll get you killed.”

“Oswald won’t let that happen,” she answered. It was almost comical how wide his eyes were when she said his name. “And I’m sure you won’t either.”

“You call him by his name?”

“Of course, what else would I call him? Mr. Cobblepots? That’s a mouthful and he insisted I call him Oswald. And calling him Penguin just feels weird.”

“I think you’re a weirdo.”

“Geez, thanks Bruce. You really know how to charm a lady,” she said, voice flat. “The money I earn here is clean.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” he said, moving out of the way as she shooed him. She walked behind the bar and began wiping it down as Bruce sat on one of the stools.

“Of course I do, I do the book,” she said. Bruce leaned against the bar causing her to stop. She looked up and raised an eyebrow. “The books of the bar, not whatever Oswald is in.”

“You hate math.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t do it,” she countered, trying to push him off the bar. “Move.”

“Come work for me,” he said, freezing her in place. She gripped his arm where her hands stilled, as if he just asked her out on a date.

“What?” she whispered. Clearing her throat, she let go of his arms and stood back, arms crossed. “And do what? Be your secretary? Be Batman’s? No thank you.”

“Why not? The pays probably better, good benefits too. And you'll be working for your best friend.”

“Exactly why I do not want to work for you,” she said. “The commune is longer-“

“I’ll get you a driver.”

“My schooling is important and I can’t miss classes-“

“We’ll work around your class schedule.”

“No, Bruce. I don’t want to work for you and you won’t be able to convince me otherwise,” she said, stubbornly.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t need people saying I’m sleeping with you just to get a job, or why I got promoted,” she finally caved and Bruce stared at her in shock.

“Why would they think that?”

She raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief and shook her head. “Bruce, you are and I quote ‘Bruce Wanye, Gotham’s next playboy billionaire’,” she said and snorted as he gaped like a fish. “Seriously? Don’t you look at the tabloids?”

“No! Is that what they’re saying about me?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms and waited.

“Don’t know what else they’ll say about you going on dates with different people every night,” she said, “but I’m sure that’s what you wanted right, so people can’t accuse you of being, well, you know.”

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize that’s what they settled on,” Bruce huffed, moving to lean his arms on the bar. “Is that really why you don’t want to work for me?”

“Yes. I want to make a name for myself, and to do that I have to distance my name with yours. I mean come on, growing up we were always together. If your name was in the paper, so was mine. What was it that they called us? Gotham’s sweethearts? They even predicted that we’d get married once we were older. So coming to work for you, would just add fuel to that burnt out fire. Besides, I like it here Bruce.”

“I never knew,” he whispered, resting to put his chin on his arms. She leaned over the bar and patted his head.

“You did, we joked about it for a bit. But then the mugging happened, and then you pushed me away.”

“Fat lot that did,” he said but couldn’t help but smile. She returned it and reached over to squeeze his hand.

“I’m just as stubborn, Bruce. Too bad you found out the hard way.”

They were silent for a moment, both lost in the past. A few seconds later, Bruce cleared his throat and dragged his gaze to her.

“So does that mean you, if I asked, that you’ll say no to being my informant?”

“Bruce!”

—

“You tried getting Mom as an informant?!” Dick asked, leaning forward as he saw Bruce make his way towards them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bruce said, coming to a stop beside Dick.

“Oh come on! Mom was telling us how she worked for Penguin. And that you tried to get her to quit,” Tim elaborated. Bruce made a face as memories from back then resurfaced.

“I still can’t believe you worked there until it shut down,” Bruce said, joining her by the tree. Cass, Stephen and Damian shifted so her and Bruce sat next to each other.

She looked up and smiled. “Like I said, plausible deniability.”

“I can’t believe it worked,” Bruce said, leaning down and kissing her cheek.

“Yeah, and the commissioner didn’t believe me when I said I had no idea what was happening. I’ve spent so much time in the interrogation room, I didn’t think I was ever going home.”

“It wasn’t too bad.”

She raised an eyebrow and gave Bruce a pointed look. “I was there for the rest of the night. All because we were waiting for Oswald to wake up. Harley and Selina almost came to get me by force if you hadn’t stopped them. Gordon ended up having to release me before all three of you could do something about it.”

“What did you tell them?” Dick asked, leaning over and snatching a cookie before Tim could grab one. Ignoring Tim’s hey! and took a bite.

“The truth,” she said, turning back to everyone. “That I work behind the bar. That I'm not allowed to go into the back and if I needed something, to ask someone else. Or call him for something and he’ll have someone bring it out.”

“Did you know Zsasz?” Jason questioned.

“Mm. But only as a customer. Was a huge flirt though, loved to make Harley jealous when they came out to bug me. Selina got a kick out of it too and joined in. I’ve never been so flustered in my life then on nights like those.”

“It’s still so weird that you and Harley dated,” Steph sighed, leaning her full weight on her mom. “Must have been the love of ages.”

“It was," Bruce answered for her. She turned to look at him, expecting to see jealousy, anger. But instead all she saw was love, admiration and gratitude. For what, she did not know, but had an inkling it was meant for Harley. Bruce slipped a hand in hers and squeezed, she returned the gesture.

“Wait, hold up,” Tim said, backtracking. “What do you mean Gordon kept you at the station?”

Bruce chuckled and Y/N blew out a breath. “That day wasn’t the first time I’ve spent time at the police station being questioned. But it was the last time, and it happened after Batman’s fight with Oswald. I told both of them if they wanted to fight, they were free too. Just not in the place I work. But neither listened.”

“You’ve been questioned before?” Barbara asked, knitting her brows together. “Dad never mentioned you.”

“Oh yeah. When Penguin first started up his criminal enterprise or whatever, Jim wanted to bring him down. Pulled me into the station a few times, asking what I know. Ooh I frustrated him so much because I knew nothing. And he didn’t have anything on me to book me, so he watched me walk away. Every time.”

Bruce snorted, gaining the attention of everyone. “He even came to Batman and Bruce, asking if I knew anything or had anything on her that she was in on whatever Penguin was doing. But true to her word, she stayed far away from it. It was starting to piss me off too.”

“What can I say? When I set my mind to something, it sticks.” Bruce grunted with mock annoyance.

“So what happened on your last day of working at the club?” Damian asked, interrupting whatever was going on between the two.

“Right. Well, it started with Ed.”

—

“Hello Peaches!” Edward Nigma called as he walked through the door.

“You know, I’ve never understood why you’ve nicknamed me Peaches,” she said in greeting, moving behind the bar as he walked towards it.

“You like peaches,” Ed said with a shrug.

“Just because I like peaches doesn’t mean anything,” she pointed out and smiled when he gave her a look. “What?”

“I said peaches and you answered without thinking twice about it,” Ed answered, “so it stuck.”

“Stuck indeed,” she hummed, laughing a little as she thought of all the nicknames she’s acquired. They range from types of animals to foods. She didn’t mind of course, she found it endearing.

“Oswald around?” Ed asked once there was a lull in the conversation.

“Probably,” she answered with a shrug, before going back to counting inventory. Ed paused in his walk and turned to face her, studying her.

“He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?” Ed asked, and watched as she froze in her task. She turned around and smiled guiltily.

“...no he does not,” she said, “it was suppose to be my day off, but Harley was busy and everyone else was too. So I figured I could catch up on stuff I’ve been slacking lately. Feel free to tell him when you see him though.”

Ed shook his head with a laugh. “Yeah. One day you’re going to get in trouble and I won’t be there to stop it. Probably should go home, Peaches.”

She waved away his worry before turning her head on him. “Don’t worry, it feels like I have a guardian looking after me anyways.” Ed chuckled, saying goodbye before leaving for the back room. “Oh and Ed?” she called, stopping him from walking through the door. He hummed in acknowledgement. “You know the rules.”

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want to know what Oswald is doing, you sure are a stickler for rules,” Ed pointed out and dropped his phone in the basket on the bar.

“What can I say? I’m a rule follower.”

Once she heard the door open and closed, she took out her headphones from her pocket and put them on. Scrolling through her music, she found her work playlist and hit play.

And that’s how she spent the next few hours, music blasting in her ears, oblivious to the world outside. Soon, the sun had set and with the lounge being closed for the night, it allowed her to finish up inventory and cleaned the place.

As she swept the floor, there was a commotion that started in the back rooms. Her music was loud enough she couldn’t hear the breaking of boxes, or shouting coming to her friends and boss. It wasn’t until someone was thrown through the back wall, and landed near her. Missing her by a few feet.

She shrieked, holding the broom close to her chest as she watched Batman groan from where he landed. “Bruce?” she whispered to herself, but loud enough that Batman could hear her. She saw his eyes widen before whipping around to find her standing there, looking frazzled.

“What are you doing here?” Batman asked, grunting as he stood up. She ripped off her headphones, mouth open to reply. But before she could, a cackling sound came from the gaping hole. They both turned to see Oswald standing there, with a machine gun pointing at Batman.

“Oswald?!” she squeaked out in surprise, clutching the broom so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She watched as Oswald turned towards her in surprise, grip slacking slightly on the gun.

“It’s suppose to be your day off?!” Oswald shouted, lowering the gun. “What are you doing here?”

“I had mentioned I was gonna come here and catch up on some work the other day!” she shouted, grip loosening on the broom handle. “I even told Ed to tell you I was here! Clearly he hadn’t.”

As if he was summoned, Ed walked up behind Oswald and stood beside him. “Why the sudden quietness?” he asked, not noticing who all was in the room.

“Edward Nygma!” she shouted, adjusting the broom in her hand, as if she was about to go and hit him with it. “What the hell?!”

“Peaches, I didn’t know you’d be here,” Ed said in mock shock. She went to take a step forward but stalled when Oswald shifted the gun in his hands. “You should have gone home when you had the chance.”

“I call bullshit, Edward.”

“Well, I did tell you would get in trouble one day,” he said with a shrug. He shuffled towards Oswald, hanging off his shoulder looking a little unhinged.

“Somethings wrong,” she whispered, once again her grip tightened on the broom as she shuffled a bit closer to Batman. From the corner of her eye, she saw Batman slowly move towards her as well. “Ed’s not usually like this. What happened?”

“What happened dear Peaches,” Ed started, leaning over to grab the gun from Oswald, “I’ve just been hit with a dose of reality,” he finished as he checked the magazine. When everything seemed alright, Ed threw her a smile. She shuddered at the look he was giving her. “Now Peaches, let’s see if that guardian angel is here now.”

And before she could process what he meant by that, Ed pulled the trigger. Everything happened in slow motion as she watched in horror as he pointed the gun at her. She felt a stinging feeling in her shoulder before having her breath knocked out of her as Batman tackled her to the ground.

She groaned as they rolled across the floor, and Batman threw down a table as coverage as he pressed her close to his chest. “What are you doing here?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“What am I doing here?! What are you doing here?!” she whispered-yelled, looking up to glare at him. “I thought you normally don’t fight at the lounge.”

“Only when I know you’re not here.”

—

Bruce cleared his throat, interrupting her story. She turned towards him with a raised brow and dared him to continue. He had the decency to look sheepish and ignored the glares that were sent his way.

“To be fair, I didn’t know you were working that night either,” he said and raised his hands in surrender when she leaned over and punched him. “It was your day off!”

“Doesn't mean I have to tell you every time I’m working.”

“She has you there, B,” Dick said. Y/N gestured to him and smiled.

“I mean it would be nice. I wouldn’t have to worry about you at night.” She scoffed.

“Back then maybe. But you're not my keeper, Bruce. I can take care of myself.”

“Don’t I know it,” he sighed out, eyes softening as he stared at her. There were a few oh gross and get a room and there are children here! thrown around. The two laughed and turned back to the group.

“Okay, where was I?”

“You were being shot at,” Damian supplied.

“Right. Well…”

—

“Seriously?! Is that why I come to work sometimes to see the lounge all trashed up and having to spend hours cleaning before opening?” she questioned and her eyes only narrowed when he shot him a look that screamed, not now. “Oh I’m sorry. It’s not like I go to your work and tell you how to run things,” she said bitterly.

“You could have if you accepted my offer,” Batman pointed out. She huffed, pushing out his arms only to cross them. She faintly heard Oswald and Ed arguing over the gunfire, but she paid them no mind. She was angry, with whom, it was anyone’s guess. But it seemed she was taking it out on Batman.

“Doesn’t matter now,” she sighed out, “so what now?”

“Now, you stay out of the way so I can stop them from hurting anyone,” Batman said, ignoring that look she was giving him. “And then I’m taking you home.”

“No shit,” she said, and peeked her head over the table when the gunfire had stopped. But she was quickly pushed down and she shot Batman a look. “What?”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Like you would let that happen,” she quipped back. “And even if you did, Alfred would have your head. He likes me more than you.”

“First of all, no he doesn’t,” he grunted trying to mask his annoyance, it wasn’t working. “Secondly, you need to shut up or I’ll let it happen.”

She gasped mockingly and covered her heart with her hands. Instead of saying what she wanted too, a wince left her mouth, drawing Batman’s attention to her.

“You're hurt,” he said, his annoyance with her was replaced by worry. Grabbing her arm to look at her shoulder better. She winced and tried to pull her arm back, he didn’t let go.

“I’m fine,” she countered, tugging her arm with more force. She stopped when a sharp pain shot through her arm and hissed.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he grunted.

“It’s just a scratch,” she tried to argue but knew it was a losing battle when Batman shot her a glare. “It missed anything important.”

“You’re shot and I’m pretty sure the bullet’s still in there,” he pointed out. When silence settled into the room, Batman looked over the table and cursed. “Great, now I have to go find them.”

“Sorry for getting in the way,” she mumbled, cradling her injured out. Guilt seeped its way in her stomach, and she hunched into herself.

“It’s fine, they’re probably out back,” he said, standing up, he bent down and picked her up with ease. She made a noise in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck without thinking.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you somewhere safe while I finish up,” he said, walking towards the bathroom. He shouldered the door open and moved to place her on the counter. He leaned over and grabbed a wad of paper towels and pressed it against her shoulder. “Keep the pressure on it.”

“I think I know what to do, Bruce,” she said, groaning as she pressed the towels onto her shoulder. “I am a doctor.”

“Not yet you aren’t.”

“Oh Batman!” They heard Ed yell from the other side of the door. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

“What’s gotten into him?” she asked, watching Bruce move towards the door.

“Stay here until I come get you,” he said, ignoring her question.

“Are you always this bossy?”

“Are you always this annoying?” he shot back.

“Yes,” she said in a heartbeat. Batman shook his head but she didn’t miss the small smile dancing on his lips.

“I mean it, stay here,” he said, staring her down until she nodded.

“Yes boss,” she said. With that, Bruce turned into Batman as he slipped through the door.

As she sat there, the adrenaline from the night wore off and the pain from her shoulder started trickling in. She tried to ignore the pain and let her mind drift to the events that happened that night. Ed was all about riddles and quizzes about trivial stuff. Not whatever happened tonight. And it scared her.

She groaned and slumped against the wall, trying her best to ignore the yelling and fighting that was happening in the other room. “I quit,” she mumbled to no one in particular.

She closed her eyes and tiredness of the day seeped into her body. Thinking it would be fine if she rested a little bit without falling asleep.

She didn’t know how long she'd been sitting there, it could have been seconds, minutes, days, and if she was feeling dramatic, years. But soon enough, the door to the bathroom opened. Someone said her name but she didn’t have enough energy to acknowledge them.

A hand gently slapped her cheeks and she blinked open her eyes only to see a blurry Batman standing in front of her. She blinked a few times until he wasn’t so blurry.

“Bruce?” she questioned, “what are you doing at my house dressed up as Batman?”

“Where not at your house, Bug. We’re still at the lounge,” he said, taking the bloodied towels away from her shoulder. He applied fresh ones and the sharp pain that scattered throughout her arm was enough to wake her up.

“Is the fight over?” she asked, moving to sit forward. “Are they okay?”

“You’re still worried about them even after what happened tonight?” She only shrugged in response, feeling like if she explained it, he wouldn’t understand. “Yeah they’re okay. Nygma was hit with something, but he should be fine in a few hours. The police and EMT’s are on the way, so I should be leaving soon.”

“Leaving me so soon?” she asked. He shook his head and helped her down off the counter.

“I’ll still be around, you just won’t be able to see me.”

She nodded and the two of them made their way out of the bathroom. She looked around the lounge and grimaced at the thought of cleaning it up. Tables and chairs were thrown around, bullet holes littered the walls and everything.

“You know what? I quit,” she said again, leaning onto Batman’s arms. “I think I’ll make due without a job for a while. Besides, I’m almost done with school.”

“Thought you liked working here.” Not a question, but she answered all the same.

“I do, but cleaning this place up after one of your fights gets exhausting after a while. I’ve had my run at running a club, it’s time for my next adventure. Hopefully one where I’m not in the middle of one of your fights.”

Bruce huffed a laugh and shook his head in amazement. “Sometimes I wonder how we became friends and stayed friends.”

She looked up and squinted. “We fought over crayons in the second grade and I couldn’t get you to leave me alone since.”

“Mm, I remember it being the other way around.”

She stuck her nose in the air and huffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right,” he said with a laugh. Once they made it outside, she widened her eyes as she took notice of Ed and Oswald tied up together and unconscious. Though if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought they were dead.

“You didn’t kill them, did you?” she whispered as if that would get him to admit that he did. She couldn’t help a small smile when he shot her a look.

“You know me better than that,” he grunted, and she could feel him rolling his eyes, even if she couldn’t see it. “But they’ll be fine. I have to leave for now, but I’ll come find you later.”

“What? Why?” she said, turning to him in alarm. With the adrenaline finally leaving her body, she felt her body crashing, and she was worried and scared of being alone.

“The police are on their way along with the EMT’s,” he elaborated, squeezing her uninjured shoulder in reassurance. “You need to get your shoulder checked and I’m pretty sure Gordon has some questions for you.”

She groaned and moved to sit on the steps of the lounge. “You called the commissioner?”

“Only because he’s the only one I trust to keep you out of harm's way.”

“Very reassuring,” she said dryly. Bruce patted her head before taking out his grappling hook, he shot it at a building after reassuring her that he’ll be back. Just not in the bat suit.

She sat there, and watched as police cars and an ambulance came speeding towards them. They stopped just before the lounge, and got straight to work. She watched as one of the police officers made a beeline towards her, and she scooted back at the look he sent her. But before he had the chance to question her, or arrest her from the looks he shot her, Commissioner Gordon stopped him.

Gordon sent him to do something else, and turned and made his way towards her. “Good evening Commissioner,” she greeted, attempting to wave but stopped when pain shot through her.

“Evening,” he greeted, looking over her form. “Anyone taken a look at your shoulder yet?”

“Not yet.” At her answer, Gordon waved over the paramedics. They looked it over, and she was relieved that Bruce was wrong. It ended up being a through and through so all she needed were stitches. Which they did, and bandaged her up, telling her to go to the hospital if it was getting worse. A little confused, she nodded and watched as they packed up and left. “Shouldn’t I get a ride to the hospital with them?”

Gordon shrugged, not having a clue. “You up for answering a few questions or would you rather get those stitches?”

She thought about it before answering. “I’ll answer some questions, the thought of going to the hospital right now sounds tiring.”

Smiling, Gordon helped her up and escorted her to his car. “We’ll do it at the station, more privacy.”

The ride to the station was quiet and so was the walk towards the interrogation room. Though she could make due without the stares or glares.

“Sorry about them,” Gordon said, letting her in the trim before closing the door behind him. “They’re not the biggest fan of your boss.”

“Can’t understand why,” she said, and sat down. Gordon hummed and went straight to questioning her. They were standard questions, if she was aware what was happening, if she was working for Oswald in his side business.

A couple of hours had passed, and Gordon looked as tired as she felt. “And you had no idea what Cobblepot’s was doing while you worked at the front?” he asked again.

“Yup. I was in charge of everything that was pertaining to the Lounge. I was one of the bartenders, I managed the front, made sure everything was okay. I did inventory, did the books for Oswald, and made sure everyone was paid. Cleaned the front of the Lounge, decorated accordingly to the seasons and holidays. I did everything. The only rule was that I wasn’t allowed to go in the back rooms. The only room I was allowed to go into was the storage room and the cooler where we kept the decorations and where we stored the drinks.”

Gordon sighed and rubbed his face before nodding. “Okay,” he said slowly, standing up.

“So I can go?” she asked, watching as he made his way to the door.

“Not yet,” he said and her shoulders slumped into disappointment. “I need to collaborate your story with Cobblepot. And that all depends on if he’s awake or not.”

With that, he left, leaving her in the room with her thoughts. She was really regretting not going to the hospital when he offered.

She sat there and tapped her fingers on the table, puffing out her cheeks as she thought about Harley. “Oh man, she’s gonna kill me,” she groaned, sinking into her seat. “Selina too, I just hope they don’t hear anything about this until I’m out.”

But the commotion that she could hear coming down the hall, proved her wrong. Straining her ears, she could hear Harley muffled yelling and Selina’s worried tone. She was afraid they’d get in trouble if they continued. Soon, she heard Bruce’s voice rumble through the room.

“Good, with Bruce here they’ll be fine,” she sighed, crossing her arms, waiting.

An hour or so later, the door finally opened revealing a sheepish Gordon. “Sorry about that.”

“I’d say no worries, but I’d be lying,” she said, sitting up straight. “Everything okay out there?”

“Yeah, you friends sure know how to make an entrance,” he answered. He opened the door for her and gestured with his head. “Go, with how many times I’ve questioned you, I have no reason to doubt you.”

She smiled and stood, making her way out the door. As she passed Gordon, she patted his arm. “I’m sorry for the headaches I’ve caused you. I hope to not cause you more in the future.”

“Trust me, you’re one headache I don’t mind having. You’re better than the bat and the criminals we have to deal with,” he said, with a smile. She laughed and shook head.

“Good luck,” she said as a goodbye. As she walked towards the front of the building, she could hear Harley.

“You can’t keep her here,” Harley whined, “you either have to charge her or let her go. She didn’t do anything.”

“She’s only here to answer a few questions, Ms, Quinzel. She’s free to leave once the Commissioner gives the all clear,” the officer at the front desk explained.

“It’s been hours though,” Selina pointed out. “You have nothing to hold her on. So either release her or charge her.”

From where she stood, she couldn’t see the expression on the officer's face, but the slumped shoulders told her they were tired.

“I’m sure your friend is finished any moment now. Please have a seat until then.”

“If you don’t, I’m going to riot and nothing can stop me,” Harley stated, moving to jump on the front desk. Bruce wrapped his arms around Harley and picked her up, holding her to his chest.

It was quite the sight to watch Harley being carried like a baby, thrashing around demanding to be let go.

“I don’t think she wants to stay here any longer if you're thrown in lockup,” Bruce commented, moving back a little so Harley couldn’t hit the desk. Selina looked on in amusement while Harley pouted.

“Do I weigh nothing to you?” Harley asked, turning her head to look up at him. Bruce shrugged and sent her a smirk.

“It’s like holding a couple of grapes,” he answered, causing Selina to laugh.

“Don’t quote Brooklyn 99 to me,” Harley squawked, wiggling until she was free. Before anyone could do anything else, she walked through the door.

“Can we go home?” she asked, interrupting whatever else they were planning. “I’m really tired.”

The three of them whipped their heads towards her, and she could see the officer physically relax.

“Pumpkin!” Harley shouted, darting towards her, almost tackling her to the ground in a hug. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

She winced when Harley pressed onto her shoulder and hoped no one noticed. But luck was not on her side tonight and Harley immediately let go, looking at her in concern.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Harley asked, she shook her head and gestured to her shoulder.

“Nygma was shooting up the place and I got a bullet to my shoulder,” she answered, “it was a through and through though, so the paramedics gave me a few stitches,” she said, giving Bruce a pointed look. Which he ignored completely.

“You should still go to the hospital,” Harley said, leaning over to study her shoulder. “At least to get it checked out.”

“I’m fine,” she said, waving it away like it was nothing. “I just want to go home.”

“No, Harley’s right,” Selina said, and stood beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist and she leaned into her touch. “It needs to be looked at properly.”

“Come on, I’ll drive,” Bruce said and ushering the three of them out of the building and into the car.

“More like Alfred will drive. I’ve never seen you behind the wheel once in our entire life,” she said as she climbed in, saying hello to Alfred.

“That is because he's a terrible driver,” Alfred answered for Bruce. She laughed, and leaned her weight on Harley, feeling sleep pull at her.

“I have no doubt about that,” she said, closing her eyes.

“To the hospital, Alfred.”

“Thanks again,” Harley said, snuggling closer. “Come on Pumpkin. Sleep, I’ll wake you when we’re at the hospital.”

She mumbled something incoherent and let sleep claim her.

———

“It was the shortest drive in my life but I had it looked at properly,” she finished. “Took forever though, I almost fell asleep while waiting.”

“You did fall asleep,” Bruce pointed out, “and you fell asleep while they redid your stitches, and while we were leaving. I ended up having to carry you so you didn't fall. Alfred insisted we bring you here, it was closer. Alfred was worried and he made sure Selina and Harley could stay too.”

“Oh that makes sense now,” she mumbled. “And you can’t blame me, it had been a long night and I was exhausted by the time Jim was done questioning me.”

“No one blames you,” Bruce said, “if anything, I blame myself.”

“Don’t even go there. No one could have known what was going to happen,” she said.

“So, do you have a scar?” Dick asked before the two of them could go into the blaming game.

She made a face and nodded. “Yeah, it’s small though but it’s there. No you cannot see it.”

“Awe.”

“At least now you're in the scar club,” Jason joked, she snorted.

“Boy, I joined that club long before any of you showed up,” she said and they all turned to look at you.

“You mean that’s not the last time you’ve been in the middle of a Batman fight?” Damian asked the question they were all thinking.

“It was my first yeah, but not my last.”

“Tell me more,” Steph pressed, resting her chin on her moms shoulder.

“Another time, my dear. I’m all storied out,” she said, patting Stephanie’s cheek gently.

There was a collective awe mans, but they all moved to get up, restarting their game of football.

“The amount of heart attacks I’ve gotten because you somehow ended up in the middle of those fights is astonishing,” Bruce said, moving to sit beside her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him.

“Yeah, I’d say sorry but-”

“But you're not,” Bruce finished, leaning down to kiss her head with a smile.

“Not my fault fate has issues with me,” she hummed, watching her children run around. Jason had the ball and both Duke and Dick were trying to tackle him for it.

“No, but it is when you keep tempting it.”

“What can I say? I live for the adventure.”

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Moth to the Flame Pt. 3 | Dr. Crane x reader

summary: Dr. Jonathan Crane isn't the only 'crazy' in Gotham City and he's about to meet his match. When confronted with an unpleasant secret from his past, he's skeptical to trust the strange young woman who calls herself Victoria Vale, the rightful heiress to Arkham Asylum (and maybe his downfall).

warnings: more sexual tension but not quite smut yet, violence, mention of a gun, sexual violence.

Tocka - Molchat Doma 🎵

The Masochism Tango - Tom Lehrer 🎶

A/N I know it's frustrating that we're building up to the smut so slowly but I promise that it'll be worth it. I'm trying to replicate the sexual frustration and tension (plus you know how much I love world-building)!!

“This…”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you press your lips against Crane’s. You exchange breath quickly as he realizes what’s happening. You pull back only slightly to see Crane’s reaction, your eyes turned down at the corners. Crane sees the look in your eyes and his body begins to thrum. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrow as a primal surge of energy explodes within him. His hands release the counter behind him and grab your face, pulling you roughly to his mouth. The moment your mouth crushes against his, he feels the last bit of his restraint snap. His body feels like it’s on fire, and he lets out a soft, barely audible moan against your lips. 

You kiss Crane harder, not caring if it hurts either of you. Crane groans again, his fingers tightening around your jaw. You reach your hand between your two bodies and grab his lapels, pulling him even closer. When his chest hits yours, Crane moves his hands up to your hair, tangling his fingers around strands of hair and tugging harshly until you whimper. His tongue parts your lips and tangles with yours. Now it’s your turn to moan and stumble back into one of the other lab tables. You grunt when your back hits it but you never break your rhythm. 

The sound of your moaning against his mouth makes him grow completely desperate for you. His hand that was gripping your chin releases your face and grips the side of the lab table that you’ve stumbled back against, pushing his body even closer against yours. His tongue is tracing over your bottom lip, his teeth just barely nipping at your lip. You wrap your hands around his neck and rise up on the balls of your feet to keep your balance. Crane moans lowly and clenches his hands on either side of you on the table. His tongue moves deeper inside your mouth and his hips move against yours. You feel how hard he is and moan softly into his mouth again. 

You move his tousled dark hair out of his face with one of your hands and take off his glasses, setting them to the side. Then pulling him closer by his throat, you start to lean back on the table. Crane groans in response and helps you back onto the lab table, spreading your legs so that he can stand between them. His hands run up and down your thighs caging his hips between them. You move his hair from his face again, pulling the dark hair back with your hands. 

Crane pulls back suddenly, looking down at you and panting, his eyes wild. You stare back, your lips parted and wet from his tongue. You realize suddenly, that he almost looks afraid. You’re not naive enough to assume that he’s a virgin but perhaps its hard for him to trust women enough to fuck them like this. 

“What is it?” You ask, your brow furrowed. 

Crane seems to finally snap out of it and leans down, his thumb playing with your bottom lip. “I don’t want another man to ever see you like this.” 

You laugh and sit up, still hugging him with your thighs. When you sit up, you only come up to his chin so you trail short kisses along his jaw, your other hand stroking his chest beneath his lab coat. 

“Oh, Crane… you haven’t even seen what’s under these clothes.” You whisper as you kiss his jaw. Crane groans and closes his eyes. His hands move to your hips and start to slip up beneath your shirt.

“Then let me see you…” he nearly whines, his deep voice tapering off as he asks. 

You run your nose up and down his throat and kiss his Adam's apple with a smile. 

“Are you sure, Crane?” You whisper. 

“I’ve never been so sure about anything, Miss Vale.” 

You stroke his face, one of the rare acts of kindness that you’ve offered him so far. Because you can’t reach his lips, you lean your head back and give him permission with your eyes. Crane groans and drops his head to his chest, shaking his head. 

“This is a trick, isn’t it?” He mutters, chuckling, “Business partners, not fuck buddies, isn’t that what you told me?” He groans again. 

“Mmm that’s right, Crane. Good boy.” You smile and kiss his neck once. 

“You’re making it incredibly hard for me to compose myself right now, Miss Vale.” 

You smile softly and gently push him away. Hopping off the desk and fixing your clothes, you grin at Crane over your shoulder. “Then try harder, Dr. Crane.” You walk to the door of his lab while he remains by the lab table, his eyebrow raised.

“You’re playing a dangerous game…” he grunts darkly, his lip twisting into a scowl. 

“Then let's play another one, shall we?” You respond calmly, fixing your clothes to fall normally. 

“Oh? What kind of game did you have in mind?” Crane smooths down his lab coat and the tented front of his pants. His fingers itch to grab you, to hit you, to hurt you, but mainly to kiss you, fuck you, take you. 

“Hide and Seek. I've proven my skill for finding people, watching them, following them... now it's your turn, Crane. I know you like to 'stalk' the women who rub you the wrong way. So, here's your invitation. Come and find me. If you can, and I'll warn you it won't be easy, then your lack of 'composure' will be of no issue.” You propose, your back close to Crane’s lab door. 

Crane smirks and looks down at his feet, impressed that you’ve learned so much about his tendencies, especially when it comes to other women. He feels a shiver run down his spine at the idea of chasing you down, hunting you. Something about that thought is so thrilling. His chest rises and falls with every deep, shaky breath he takes. He keeps his head down as he speaks again. 

“And if I find you, what then?”

“Whatever you want. Victor gets the spoils.” 

Crane looks up, his eyes dark like a predator’s. A smile forms on his lips and he nods slowly. 

“Alright, Miss Vale, I accept your challenge.” 

“Good. You leave your lab at 10pm every night. I have until then to get home. You have 42 hours to find me... or the deal's off. We're back to being just business partners.” 

You open the door of the lab, looking back to get one last glance at Crane. He looks flustered and dark, like an escaped maniac. You want him to stalk you. You want him to watch you sleep. You want him to be a freak. 

When the door finally closes, Crane pinches the bridge of his nose and groans aloud. In his entire life, he’s never felt this sort of excitement before. He can already feel himself growing frantic, desperate for your scent, his mind completely fixated on you. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down, but the faintest hint of your perfume still in the air only causes his thoughts to go more wild.

“I’m going to find you, Miss Vale. You’ve really started something now, and you may regret it.” Crane says under his breath and turns back to his work, finishing what he can before he can start the clock, the countdown. 

…

You’re already home when Crane can leave his lab and start the game. The streets of Gotham are dark and uncomfortably warm but he keeps his suit jacket on, who would he be without it? 

He stops outside the university building and sniffs the air like an animal, seeing if he can still smell your perfume in the air. But the air around him smells like a college campus stuck in the middle of a large city: stale beer, gasoline, and cigarettes. Crane looks around at the cityscape in front of him. He could go to the nice part of town, the area where he lives, an area that a woman working for the police department would live too (assuming their paychecks were similar). He started walking towards his part of town when he stopped. 

Victoria Vale was the child of the Arkham family, you’d told him that the first night you met. You would probably want to stay close to the asylum, the last thing that reminded you of your parents. Plus, you were just as dangerous as any of the criminals in the Narrows, so the neighborhood wouldn’t scare you away. So, Crane decided, you lived in the Narrows, but where?

He knows he’d have to be absolutely crazy to go through every single apartment in the Narrows looking for you, so that's out. No, he’s going to have do this by thinking like you. Which place would make you feel the most comfortable, safe, and at home? You’re just a lowly detective, at least that’s what you want everyone to think. You don’t play by the rules, you don’t respect the players, so neither would he.

Crane headed home to his own apartment, planning out his moves for the next day. He wouldn’t need the full 42 hours, especially if he broke the rules. No, he’d only need a few. 

…

The next evening Crane leaves his lab at the university early, rebuffing his usual routine. He waits outside the precinct, hidden in the shadow of a city bus. A drunk man approaches him, babbling about Wall Street. Crane ignores the stranger as he watches for you but he doesn’t leave Crane alone, trying to pick a fight. Crane grits his teeth and grabs the man’s collar and pulls him close. 

“Fuck off,” he growls. The drunk investor’s eyes widen and he babbles again. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“What are you doing?” The man slurs and Crane smirks suddenly. 

“I’m waiting for a woman to leave that building,” he points to the precinct’s front doors, “then I’m going to follow her home and watch her sleep, and then I’m going to break into her home and win the little game she’s playing with me.” Crane answers in a clear, dark voice, his eyes taking on a frightening glow. When the drunk man says nothing, Crane shoves him away. “Oh don’t look at me like you haven’t done something worse, wannabe Wayne.” 

Crane focuses his attention back on the building and the man scrambles away. Crane chuckles as the man trips over his own trousers and shouts in terror. As he does though, Crane sees a woman standing on the opposite side of the street, her head turned towards the source of the shout. His eyes narrow and he notices that it's you, the bane of his existence and fuel to his sadistic fire. 

You keep walking, shaking your head as you see what looks like one of those rich finance bros scurrying away from a city bus. Your eyes watch him as you make your way home towards your apartment. The precinct is in the heart of downtown Gotham, a few blocks away from Arkham and the Narrows. The sky is dark but has a sickly-yellow tinge to it from the smokestacks standing tall in the clouds of smog. You pull your hair up into a clip to keep it off of your neck. Sweat drips down your spine as you cross intersections and get closer to your apartment in the Narrows. 

Crane follows you like a shadow, only the reflection from his glasses would be visible if you looked over your shoulder. His heart beats faster as he watches you walk, completely oblivious to how close you are to him without even knowing it. He watches behind a dumpster as you climb a set of slotted iron steps up to your door. You remove your keys smoothly from the pocket of your trousers, the only pants you like to wear he notes to himself. There’s no fear or urgency in the way you look for the right key and slip it into the lock. You live in a dangerous part of town, break-ins happen while the residents are still inside. A young woman standing in the dark at her door, distracted, well she was just asking for trouble now. 

You open your door and close it behind you. The apartment lights up as you turn on lamps and kick off your pumps. Crane watches from the alley, a window providing him with a clear view of your living room. He watches as you take down your hair again and open the freezer to get the tray of ice cubes. You take an ice cube from the tray and let it melt on the back of your neck, its trail of water wetting your t-shirt. 

You have a box unit in the window of your bedroom and Crane finds it easily. It takes him a few tries to pull the wire poking out from the corner of the window. Naturally, he has a pocket knife stuffed into one of the pockets in his suit jacket. He takes the wire and holds it taut as he cuts, killing the air conditioning in your apartment. The result is almost instantaneous. You get hotter, so you slip a second ice cube down your shirt into your bra. When that still doesn’t help, you tug off your t-shirt and drop it on the couch. Crane watches from the alley with an amused smile. He feels himself getting hard, excited. 

You move into your bedroom and find the broken air conditioner in the window and groan aloud. You curse below your breath and undo your trousers, letting them slip to the ground. When the warm air hits your bare legs, you sigh, finding some relief. Holding the air conditioner with one hand, your other hand gropes the side panels holding it inside the window. You free it from the window pane and set it roughly on the floor. Fresh air rushes in and you close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. The severed cord connected to the A/C unit doesn’t even catch your eye, you’re so distracted by the heat. 

Crane watches as you close the sheer curtains over the window and step away. He steps closer, invisible in the dark. He can see through the gauze-like material that you’ve stepped into your bathroom and turn on the shower. Through the medicine cabinet, he watches your reflection unclip your bra and drop it onto the tiled floor before you close the bathroom door and he can see no more. Crane waits for a moment, imagining you stepping out of your frilly little underwear you were wearing when you removed the A/C unit from the window, and tossing it into a laundry hamper beside the sink. He imagines you turning on the shower and stepping below the freezing stream of Gotham city water. His cock gets harder and his pupils dilate. He catches himself salivating… literally salivating at the thought of you. Unable to stand it any longer, Crane opens the window a little more and pushes himself over the lip of the windowsill. His long lean body slips easily inside and he closes the window behind him, hoping that you will notice. 

He takes the opportunity while alone in your bedroom to take a very quick look around. He finds the gun in your bedside table (looks legit), he admires your underwear drawer (why so many frilly things, Victoria?), and smirks at the stacks of his research papers on your floor around your bed (so sweet, really). When he hears the shower cut off, Crane slips quietly into the living room, unlocks the front door and leaves. 

This is when he waits. 

Back under the protection of the alleyways in the Narrows, he waits for you to notice the window, then to search the house for an intruder, and then finally to check the front door where you realize the front door is unlocked. Being the level-headed woman that you are, you will lock the door, get your gun and search the house again until you are convinced that the window must have slid shut while you were in the shower and you must have also forgotten to lock the door when you came home. Minor mistakes. 

But you never make mistakes, Miss Vale. 

Like clockwork, Crane muses, now in a big t-shirt and underwear, you roam around the small apartment with your gun cocked. Multiple thorough searches leave you perplexed. You allow yourself to consider Crane as the suspect. You’d told him to stalk you, but why would he risk running down the clock like this and not stray to claim his prize? You make sure the door is locked again before you go to bed, leaving the lamp on as you skim an article Crane had written on the intersectionality of pleasure and fear (riveting stuff). 

You’re starting to fall asleep. Your eyes are getting heavy. The words on the page are bleeding together. 

Someone knocks on the door. You jump. 

Taking your gun again from the nightstand, you walk slowly to the front door. The person knocks again, harder this time. Crane wouldn’t knock, he’d find a way in, you tell yourself. You open the door, but the door chain keeps it from opening all the way. Before you even have a moment to breathe, Crane kicks in your door, breaking the chain in the process. 

 The moment Crane steps into your apartment, his predatory instincts immediately start to kick in. Before you even have the chance to step back, he grabs you by the shoulders and slams you back against the wall, pinning you in place. You gasp, dropping the gun, but before you can scream, Crane clamps a hand over your mouth. He shushes you sweetly, his eyes wild. You try to knee him in the groin but his free hand stops you, slamming your thigh back against the wall. 

He pulls you completely flush against his body, pressing you into the wall as he leans his head even closer to yours. His voice is low and rough as he speaks, his words are almost like a hiss as he speaks directly into your ear, “You’re completely trapped. There’s no way out of this, Miss Vale.”

You roll your eyes, your attempt at words are too muffled to be heard behind his hand. He tilts his head to the side slightly and looks down at you, taking in the way you look completely trapped between his body and the wall. Having your eyes look up at him defiantly as he feels you struggle against his body, it’s so incredibly arousing, and it’s making his skin burn. 

But is it just pleasure, or is it an actual fire? 

You strike a flame with the Thomas Wayne lighter you’d slipped from the breast pocket of his jacket just 42 hours before. The one you’d originally given to him the first night you met. It was still in your other hand, clamped in your sweaty palm. With the flame lit, you angled it close to Crane’s hip and waited for him to react. Crane pauses for a moment and looks down. 

“You fucking bitch-” he cusses and he releases you from his grip and bats the flame away with his hand. “You just ruined one of my favorite suits…”

Crane drops his hold on you momentarily and you try to catch your breath as he examines the edge of his suit jacket and the inflamed spot of flesh below the fabric, flashing you a deadly look. His dark hair has fallen into his icy blue eyes, making him look reptilian. 

“I can’t make this too easy for you, I’m sure you understand.” You scowl, your chest heaving. 

“That was a nice try, Miss Vale. However, I’m afraid that I’m not deterred just yet,” his low voice sounds manic, unpredictable. 

“I assume as much,” You snap the lighter closed and puff a strand of hair out of your flushed face. You may want this as much as Crane, but fighting is equally as fun.

“So what? You think you can get away from me?” Crane steps in again, looking down at you with a challenging smile. You shrug and scowl up at him, your thighs shaking as you notice the smell of his cologne. Crane laughs at your shrug and cocks his head to the side, his jaw clenching for a moment. 

“Ok then,” he continues, “Go ahead, pet. Let’s see what you can do. Try to get away from me.” 

“Such a gentleman,” you give a false smile and toss the lighter up and down. Suddenly striking a flame, you throw the lighter at Crane and dive for your gun all the way across the room near the door to your bedroom. Crane ducks his head to avoid the lighter, his reflexes quicker than you anticipate. He watches as you dive for the gun and laughs, taking his time, unconcerned with your attempt to reach the gun in the dark. 

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s cheating, darling,” he clucks his tongue and steps slowly towards you. 

“I made the fucking rules,” you manage to say as you scramble in the dark for the gun. 

Crane frowns and rolls his eyes. He steps over you quickly, grabbing a fistfull of hair on the back of your head and pulling you back. 

“Perhaps but I’m the one who started this game. And I’m the one who’s going to win it,” his voice is low and nearly inaudible as he turns you over. You grab the gun just in time and turn it on him, both hands angling the gun at his pale face above you. 

Crane stops mid-step and smirks slowly, his hands rising in surrender. His head turns partly to the side and he regards you with a cocky and unconcerned sidelong glance. 

“Are you going to shoot me with that, Miss Vale?” Something flickers in his eyes and you shrug, unable to decide whether you’re pissed off or turned on. 

“I don’t know yet.” 

Crane scoffs and looks you up and down as you lie on the floor beneath him. Your shirt has ridden up to your ribs, exposing your plain cotton underwear. He clenches his jaw and turns out his lip in a show of restraint. His eyes are glued to your thighs. 

“God, look at you. You’re such a damn tease,” he jerks his head at your underwear, his arms still raised. 

“Funny, that’s what all of my ex-boyfriends said before I dumped them. Maybe they just couldn’t handle temptation,” you sneer back, the gun still trained on Crane’s sour expression. 

Crane chuckles at your response and braves a step closer. When you don’t shoot him immediately, he decides to push you further. 

“They couldn’t handle you at all… but I can.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you sass back with a smile. You keep smiling until Crane jumps on top of you, knocking the gun out of your hand again. You try to struggle away immediately but he yanks you back into place on the floor beneath him. Crane holds your wrists down and grits his teeth, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly. 

“Oh believe me, I’m going to try my hardest, Miss Vale.” 

As the words leave his mouth he lowers his head to your neck, dragging his tongue along your throat. Then he begins to suck gently, his teeth nipping at the thin skin above bands of muscles. His lips pause just below your earlobe and he smiles, exhaling against the skin. 

“You taste so good, darling…” 

You whimper softly, trying your best to hold it in. The last thing you want at the moment is for Crane to know how turned on you actually are. You can feel Crane smirk again against your throat. He moves one of his hands to your hip, the other now holding both of your wrists above your head. The hand on your hip slides over the soft pouch of flesh above your navel. His warm fingers follow the natural dip between your ribs and then back down to your stomach. You bite your lip, muffling the dirty sounds slipping from your mouth at his experienced touch. 

“Do you like that, darling? Look at you… finally starting to submit,” he whispers and changes the direction of his hand. His fingers move back up your stomach, slipping below the bunched up hem of your shirt to find one of your breasts. His middle finger circles the hardened breast before slowly making the circle smaller until the pad of his finger teases your nipple. 

In his moment of distraction, you use your knee to force him off of you, spinning him around and landing on top. Crane looks up at you, surprised to find you straddling him now. Before he can open his mouth to speak, you slap him hard against his cheek. His smile changes immediately to a sneer as he grabs your wrists and flips you over again, slamming you down against the floor. Finding strength in your adrenaline, you push him back and you both end up rolling around on the floor, knocking furniture and lamps down as you move. Finally, you shove him away long enough to launch yourself from the floor. You scramble into your bedroom and make it a few steps before you feel Crane’s hand grab your shoulder and spin you around. He pulls you flush against him and time seems to stand still as you look at one another. 

And then you’re kissing, kissing as if you’ll never kiss another person again. Crane hands hold your face, pulling your mouth against his. You moan against his mouth, stumbling back and forth, grappling at his suit jacket for balance. Crane forces you backwards until you fall back on your bed. Temporarily apart, Crane swipes your papers from the comforter, knocking over the lamp on your nightstand. As the lamp crashes onto the floor, the room is thrust into semi-darkness with only the city lights of Gotham to illuminate your bodies.

Crane kisses you again, finding your body on the bed. You push his suit jacket off his shoulders and immediately start to unbutton his starched shirt. Crane moves his mouth over your body, kissing whatever exposed skin he can find. When his shirt is off, he grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it off, throwing it across the room where it knocks a picture from the wall. There are no words of praise or desire, no speaking, just heavy breathing and desperate moans. 

Only when you are completely disrobed does Crane pause, looking down at you. His eyes trail over the peaks of your nipples and the valley between your breasts, glistening with sweet sweat. His hand passes over one of your breasts, his palm flat. Your nipple rubs against his rough skin and you moan, your thighs twitching. Crane wets his lips and does it again, watching for your reaction. When he’s satisfied, he handles your breast roughly, squeezing it and lowering his mouth once again to your neck, biting you gently. 

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and by far the most dangerous.”

--------------------------------------------------------

@m0thh3ad @sl-newsie @strangeobsessed @cillamity

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Lowlife Princess

Act One: Jeong Yunho, known locally as The Joker, has found himself a favorite new plaything. Or — you, a poor girl just trying to survive in Gotham City, form a strange relationship with the Clown Prince of Chaos.

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

"They became the King and Queen of Gotham City — and God help anyone who disrespected the Queen."

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut with plot, gotham au

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not beta read, sex worker turned sugar baby reader (no depicted sw), reader is definitely messed up from her job, obsession at first sight, touch starved reader / touchy yunho, dacryphilia / daddy kink outside of sex, fear, police intimidation, yunho threatening a cop, smoking and trying to quit (yun), yunho crazy as hell / reader just as crazy but hides it better at first, does making vengeful murder plans count towards aftercare ? for yunho, yes ! featuring riddler!hongjoong and highly inappropriate family / worker + boss dynamics smut warnings: rough dom yunho, soft making out, hickeys, cumming in pants, dry humping, tipsy sex, talk abt kinks and fantasies (including cnc + exhibitionism), table / couch / floor sex, size difference, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, one instance of spit, light spanking, hand kink, body worship, first time squirting, manhandling, overstimulation, daddy kink + ddlg themes, hardcore dacryphilia, dumbification, unprotected + creampie, yun gets off on reader being a bit mean to him, very possessive dialogue + dirty talk, lots of dirty talk actually- yunho won't shut up, praise, pet names (pretty girl, doll, baby, princess), aftercare

♫soundtrack♫

➯a/n: this all started when someone asked for cnc with yunho... how the hell did i end up with a three part series with a joker au ?? well, either way, here we are 😭 this is on the same level as cornflower blue and allure for me... i love what i've done and i don't say that often but sometimes my brain lets me be proud kkkkk im having really not the best night so i decided to share this early and have some fun ! ➯a/n2: this is a long, long chapter ! i think the second smut scene is probably the longest one ive ever written by like a loooong shot🥲sit back, relax, and welcome to the clown show~

♡masterlist + tag post !♡

【jokers♱】 @mentallyunpresent @fireseo @beomkyum @onyxmango @spicyhotteokkay @vinylphwoar @ramadiiiisme @m00njinnie ₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

18+.NO MINORS ON MY BLOG.

ꕥ

"Asshole can't even be bothered to turn on the heat?"

You chuckle at the new girls complaint, looking over to her. "Be thankful he didn't start you on the poles, newbie." You're sat on top of the wooden bar, drying cups at almost four in the morning.

It's slow. And, yes, it's cold in the skimpy outfit your boss makes you wear. Winter in Gotham, much like everything about the city, is unforgiving. But you know better than to complain; born and raised in the poor, crime ridden city.

All things considered, this is a good gig. The club that you work at is a poorly veiled front for sex work; but since it's in a nicer part of the city, you get treated fairly well.

In your years at The Riddle Room, you've saved a good bit of money. Got your own apartment in a neighborhood that doesn't have break-in's literally every night. You haven't gone hungry since you started working here and you're only cold when you're on the clock.

"I don't know how to dance," the younger woman shrugs as she rubs her arms.

"Neither did I," you hum, looking around the desolate bar. "Hey," you nod over to the bathrooms, "it's always a bit warmer in there. Go warm yourself up. I'll cover for you if he comes around."

"Really?" She smiles, and you can tell she won't last long here. You almost want to tell her to actually just go home and never come back. You either adapt or you break — and you can't see her adapting.

"Yeah," you give her a tight lipped smile, "sure. Don't be too long."

"Thanks, (Y/n)!" She yells as she runs to the women's bathroom.

"Poor kid is gonna get eaten." You mumble to yourself, glancing at the clock. 3:56.

She's still in the bathroom next time you look, 4:12. Still two more hours until you can go home and put on some warm clothes and go to sleep and get up tomorrow and repeat the day all over again.

"Where's the new girl?" Your boss: Kim Hongjoong, aka The Riddler, asks immediately as he enters the bar.

"Bathroom-" You look up over at him, and quickly toss yourself off of the bar when you see that he's brought others along with him.

The man right next to him is the infamous Joker. The Clown Prince of Chaos. Looking right at you with a grin that can only be described as unsettling.

You gulp, but you push a smile onto your lips quickly. "Hello! Welcome in."

"You're fine," Hongjoong waves you off, "they aren't here for that. Here for business."

You can't help the way that your shoulders physically relax. The stories you've heard about the man are... frightening. From the news to the unfortunate souls who got to live after he got his hands on them.

Now you want to go home and never return. If The Joker is doing business with your place of work — you want nothing to do with it.

Jeong Yunho, who you know only as Joker, keeps his eyes on you like a predator as he follows your boss to a large round booth.

He has an eye for fire. And you, poor you, are shimmering with embers that he wants to stoke into a wildfire.

He manages to be business-man enough to seal the deal with Riddler; an agreement of giving some of his profit if he allows him to store product in the bar. He can't remember the details. As soon as they shake on it, he forgets all about it to be frank.

Because his mind goes back to you.

And then his eyes, as well.

You're behind the bar with the younger girl who had brought over drinks a little while ago. You're clearly trying to ignore his presence, and he can't blame you. He knows his reputation. But it still makes him tap his fingers against the table in annoyance; his sharp metal accessories thudding rhythmically.

"How much?" He asks Hongjoong suddenly, cutting the silence. "Out of curiosity." Because whatever the price is, he's sure it's not enough.

You're beautiful. And you still have fire in your eyes even with your line of work.

Yunho likes that very, very much.

"Hm?" He follows his eyes, "(Y/n)? I thought you'd like her, that's why I had her work tonight." The man smirks a bit, "(Y/n)!"

Your head perks up from your phone, immediately dropping it on the bar and making your way over. "Yes?"

"C'mere," he curls his finger, beckoning you closer, "give our new business partner a twirl, will you?"

You would really rather not. You've felt his eyes on you since the moment he walked in. But you swallow your pride as you always do and you give the man a smile before slowly turning in a circle.

One of the men next to Yunho whistles lowly, and while you aren't affected by it; he surely is — giving the man a glare which shuts him up immediately.

"Five hundred an hour. She knows how to please. My best girl."

You do, and sometimes you take joy in it. You do not want to please Joker, however. You want as far as possible away from him.

"That's it?" He cocks an eyebrow, giving you another once over. "Spin for me again." He leans back, chewing on the lollipop stick he'd been fiddling with.

You swallow around the lump in your throat as you spin, looking down at the floor when you return to face them; feeling like you've somehow displeased him.

"When's your shift tomorrow, doll?"

You blink a few times to register that he just asked you a question, not your boss. You look to said man, who looks just as puzzled. It's pretty rare for a customer to even bother asking your name, let alone try to schedule with you directly.

"Uhm, midnight to six, sir." You aren't entirely sure how to address him, but you certainly don't want to be rude to the cold blooded clown.

"I'll see you from three to six."

The way he says it leaves no room for argument, and Hongjoong's eyes widen a bit. "Wait- wait a second, she only does an hour at a time-"

"Not with me." He scans you slowly, catching onto the way you hold your own hand nervously, pinching your skin. "Don't worry," he laughs as he stands up, towering over you as you stay statue still, "I'll be nice."

ꕥ

When 2:40 rolls around the next night, you debate skipping town. Hongjoong said you didn't have to do anything you were uncomfortable with — but you were doing it anyway because you know the repercussions that come with denying The Joker of what he wants. You've seen the news headlines.

If what he wants is you, you'll have to give it to him unless you want to end up missing or mangled. And now that he's in business with your place of work, you worry that if you say no to him; you'll no longer have work.

Three hours? Three fucking hours alone with the Prince of Chaos?

You wondered if you'd be alive at the end of it even if he was 'nice'. His definition of nice could mean not shooting someone if they look at him the wrong way.

You had to take a sleeping pill after your shift to even think about resting; and god knows you needed the rest for the hours to come.

You throw your phone onto the bedside table and stand up straight as you hear the door open. Your hands behind your back, you find the bravery to meet the man's eyes.

"Hello, sir."

He didn't know what exactly he was expecting when he opened the motel door. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you in a white, lace babydoll dress that barely conceals your most private areas.

Despite the fact that he opened the door with zero intention of touching you, he feels his cock twitch.

He bolts the door behind him out of habit, unaware of the fact that it makes you gulp. "What the hell are you wearing?" He asks as he faces the door still.

"...what? Do- do you not like it?" You picked it because you believed you looked good in it. Maybe innocent even, so he might go easy on you.

"Do you want me to fuck you stupid?"

"Isn't that wh-"

Yunho turns around and storms into the room, making you flinch heedless of the way you try to hold it back. You close your eyes tightly, bracing yourself for whatever comes your way with a squeak of, "please, I bruise easily!"

You were sure that the first thing you would feel would be his hands on your exposed skin, maybe even a slap. What you did not expect, not in a million years — is the blanket being draped around your shoulders.

"No." He says simply as he takes a step back.

You look completely shell shocked. Probably because you are. And again, he can't blame you. He'd probably think he was about to be fucked senseless if he was in your situation as well.

And make no mistake — he wants to fuck you. But he also wants to do so much more.

"No?" You whisper as you open your eyes, looking at him with confusion written all over your face.

"No. I'm not going to fuck you."

"But you paid-" He quickly grabs the blanket and holds it shut around you as you try to shrug it off.

"I did. I paid good money, so listen to what I want." He bites his lip as you nod quickly. He really could get you to do anything. But that's not what he wants. He wants to light your fire, not put it out. "Listening?"

"Yes..."

"I'm not going to fuck you. And I'm not going to hurt you. Put some damn clothes on, and sit on the bed."

He leaves you utterly dumbfounded as he turns around as quickly as he came and heads to the connected bathroom, the thud of the lock making you jump a bit.

With a fast text Hongjoong's way saying that Joker isn't, in fact, rearranging your insides, he's acting weirder; you do as he instructed you and put on your clothes. They weren't meant to be seen by anyone else, they were for you to sleep in after he left.

He's pleased when he comes out of the bathroom and sees you in the pajamas. A large shirt and long sweatpants, you've even put your socks on. "Cute," he chuckles at the pattern on them, loosening his tie.

He wanted to touch himself while he was in there, the image of your body all wrapped up in white lace like a goddamn present still fresh in his mind — but he practiced self restraint.

He knows you're still tense, you're still afraid of him. Everyone is. Well, they are or they're just plain stupid.

"You in college?" His question, much like everything else he's done so far, catches you off guard.

"College? Uhm, yeah- yes. Yes, sir."

"Quit that."

"Sorry?" You holds your hands together in your lap, scratching your fingers.

"Calling me 'sir', don't do that." He rolls his neck as he takes his tie off, tossing it on the chair in the corner while he watches you.

"Sorry," you clear your throat, "what should I call you then? Joker?"

"Yunho." He half-smiles as he unbuttons his suit vest and lets it join the tie. "My name is Jeong Yunho." It feels good to say that.

Being 'Joker' to so many people feels powerful, but he doesn't want to be that to you. He wants to be himself. He wants to make you want him for him. Not for his persona or because you're afraid of what he'll do if you say no.

Even if it takes months, he'll make you want him.

Because the second he laid eyes in you, you were his. He could see the fire underneath your sweet, submissive mask. He loves fire.

"What school?" His questions keep throwing you through loops as you try to guess whether or not this is all a ploy to get your guard down. If he likes to catch people when they least expect it.

"Online," you hum, watching him just as closely as he watches you while he takes off his belt and kicks off his shoes.

"More flexibility, I imagine." He falls back onto the bed next to your sitting form and his weight makes you bounce a bit. Out from his pocket he gets a pack of gum, offering you a piece to which you confusedly shake your head.

You phone pings on the bedside table.

"You're hard." You say it like he might not have noticed, eyes flickering to the noticeable bulge in his slacks.

"I am, you're very pretty." His soft admittance makes your heart beat in a whole new way. Not thumping in fear, but fluttering with something unknown. "It will go away on its own."

You phone let's put another ping.

"You always have your ringer on when you're with a client?" He reaches across with his long arm and grabs it as it starts ringing.

'Hong' reads the caller ID.

"Jesus, learn how to answer a text!" He says through the speaker as Yunho answers it, letting you do nothing but watch uneasily at his unreadable expression.

"She's on the clock." He says into the microphone, fingers tapping the back of the device lazily and popping his gum.

"Joker! Hey, what are you doing to her? We put rules in place for a reason! Why am I getting an SOS?" Hongjoong is nothing if not protective of you and the other worker's wellbeing. He prides himself on taking care of you all. You especially.

"I haven't touched her. Don't worry, your best girl is just fine. She's just a little frightened, I think," he giggles as he catches you in the corner of his eye shrinking in on yourself.

"If there's a goddamn single scratch on her-"

"Yeah, yeah, toodles~" He hangs up quickly and turns it off before he can call back. He turns his head to you, slipping your phone into his pocket.

It's silent for a moment as you feel the emotions coming off of him — although you have no idea which ones they are.

Then, out of the blue, he asks, "so what do you do on your days off?"

ꕥ

After about twenty minutes pass, it seems he's finally ran out of basic questions to ask. They start getting more obscure and, unsurprisingly for a man such as himself, strange.

What superpower would you have? Did you ever set things on fire as a kid? You brush your teeth before or after you eat in the morning? Do you ever fantasize about getting revenge on those who've wronged you?

You were starting to get whiplash from trying to keep up, so you're thankful when he rolls over onto his side and faces you; still sitting up tensely with your back against the headboard, "I think I'll stop there tonight. We have a few more hours and there's something I want to do."

You knew it! You knew it! You k-

"Lay down and cuddle with me, pretty girl."

Wait — the fuck? You freeze, your breath stuck in your throat.

"I don't like to ask for things twice."

You slink down the bed until you're laying on your side next to him, and for some reason you have tears brewing in your eyes and blurring your vision. You're still sure that he's going to flip his act at any second. "How?"

He admits lowly, "I want to hold you." It feels strange to hear the criminal kingpin say something so soft. "You look so comfortable, like you'll fit perfectly in my arms."

You don't know what his game is — his angle. You can't figure it out.

Because in reality there isn't one. He's just doing what he wants, asking what he wants. There's no rhyme or reason, he's just doing what he feels like will please him; like he always does. And he knows it will please him deeply to hold you.

You look like a frightened deer: your chest rising and falling quickly, your body stiff as you lay next to him, your eyes either blinking too slow or too fast.

"Are you scared of me?" He knows the answer is undoubtedly yes. But he wants to see how you'll react. What you'll say.

"Yes."

The corner of his lips twitches upward. Most people would say no to try and please him, especially in such an intimate setting.

"Why? I haven't harmed you, have I?" He hums as he reaches and toys with a piece of your hair.

"Not yet."

He laughs, shaking the mattress a bit, "oh, doll~ You're so cute..." He sighs, his hands twitching for a split second before he finally caves and wraps his arms around you; yanking you towards him and closing the gap.

You panic briefly, sure that he's finally going to take what he paid for. But he doesn't make a move. He wraps his arms around you shockingly tender, one around your waist and the other around your shoulders; reaching up and petting the back of your head.

You start letting the tears that have been threatening your waterline fall. Well — you don't let them. They come whether you want them to or not.

"Put your arms around me."

You slowly move to do so, your tears dampening his button down shirt as he cradles your head to his chest. You hold onto his back lightly; and you hate that it feels so nice to be held. Not to be held down or stuck, but to be embraced.

The Joker has thrown you for loop after loop. Never, never, would you have thought this is how the night would go. You expected to be bruised and sore by now, but instead here you are being held like a precious, overpriced stuffed animal.

You start sobbing, and your choked noises come out even as you bite your lip.

"Shhhh," he coos, a large grin on his face as he rubs your shaking back, "doesn't this feel nice?"

You nod into his chest, your fingers twitching to hold onto him as he gently pulls your head back.

He smiles softer as you meet his eyes. He cups your cheek in his palm, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb and smearing your tears. "You're so pretty..." He bites his tongue as he wants to continue. He just broke down a layer of your walls, he has to be careful.

"It's been a long time since someone just held you, huh?" He pouts, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter.

You nod again, not trusting your own voice. Not even knowing what you would say. The Clown Prince of Chaos has you so confused.

"I thought as much... don't you worry, pretty girl," he gently guides your face back into his chest, hiding his gleeful expression as he can no longer hold it back. His brain is pushing him, nagging for him to get just one more thing before he's fully satisfied with his first night with you.

"I'll hold you until the sun rises —you just have to do one thing for me."

You nod quickly, probably too quickly, but you don't care. If he'll keep true to his promise and hold you like this — you'll take it. You don't care that he is who he is as the heat of his body warms your soul.

"Just say, 'please, Daddy'... and I will give you anything you want."

You pause for only a moment, swallowing the remainder of your tears. "Please, Daddy." You whisper into his shirt, "please, just hold me."

"Of course, I will." And he will. He'd have held you even if you didn't ask — but he's so glad he got you to.

The way your voice trembled ever so slightly as you asked for soft affection... it solidified the fact that he's wrapped around your finger. Coiled around your pinky like a snake in a matter of twenty four hours.

You do fit perfectly in his arms. It scratches a deep itch in his brain. You're so soft, especially as you start relaxing into him.

You're soft, you're pretty, and you have a flame deep in your eyes.

Yunho has to have you all to himself. He'd never forgive himself for letting you get away — so he's got to be sure that it doesn't come to that.

ꕥ

You have no Earthly idea how you managed to fall asleep.

Maybe it was his soft traces on your back. Probably your emotional distress didn't help you to stay awake. Perhaps it was his quiet humming or the heat of his body.

You must have been exhausted. Because you would never fall asleep in the same room as a client on any other day. Especially not if they were so high profile and had such a terrifying reputation.

And yet here you are. Blinking the sleep from your eyes and sitting up slowly as someone bangs on the door.

"Times up, buddy!" You rub your head at the sound of the man's voice carrying through the door.

Yunho is already up and out of the bed, fixing his tie in the body length mirror. He catches a glimpse of your sleepy face in the reflection and grins. "Good morning, sleeping beauty~"

You look down at your body quickly as you realize what you've done. He could have easily taken advantage of you while you slept. But the drawstring on your sweatpants is still in the same bow you tied them in.

"I didn't peek, if that's what you're worried about." He flicks his vest in the air, soothing out some of the wrinkles. "Sleep well?"

Another round of knocks comes to the door; ignored by both of you as you lock eyes.

"You didn't touch me?" Your brows knit together in what feels like disbelief and confusion and one big headache. "Why?"

"Because I know you didn't want me to." He says it likes it obvious, and really it should be. But your lines of consent and control are clearly blurred.

"But-" You stutter, searching for the words to describe what's going on in your brain. Trying to file all of the confusion into place. "But you paid."

"I did. And I got what I wanted." He leans his hands on the edge of the bed and leans forward, all the while you watch him dumbfounded. "How much does he give you, anyway?"

"Uhm," you hesitate. You aren't sure if you should be discussing payment with him. But the lift of his eyebrow makes you answer, "one third."

"Oh, that won't do!" He shakes his head quickly, getting his wallet from his vest pocket. "Here." He hands over two one hundred dollar bills.

"W-what?" You aren't supposed to touch the money, not until Hongjoong hands it to you. The Joker isn't doing anything by the book — and you can't believe you didn't see that coming.

"You were good company," he says as he forces the paper into your palm and closes your fingers around it. "And I think you deserve to be spoiled."

Your eyes widen a bit, looking between him and the money. "I didn't- I didn't earn this, Joker-"

"Yunho." He corrects you, "and, yes, you did. I'm very pleased." You're stuck in place as he leans forward, his nose almost touching yours. "Since our time is up, I'll have to kiss you next time~"

"Next time?" You breathe out in a soft pant, your heart beating a bit faster than you'd like to admit. "There's going to be a next time?" You sound almost hopeful, because this was the softest experience you've had in a long, long time.

"Without a doubt." He traces your cheek with his knuckle as he stands, letting his hand drop just as the door slams open.

"(Y/n)!" Hongjoong runs to you, giving the man a glare, "are you okay? Did he bruise you? Did he use a condom?" He tilts your head, checking you for marks, "did you-"

All of his questions go unheard as you watch The Joker saunter out of the room; whistling a soft tune as he lights a cigarette.

ꕥ

You walk into The Riddle Room at 11:45 sharp the next night and find Hongjoong sitting on the bench in the dressing room, biting at his nails.

"What's up with you?"

He jumps at the sound of your voice, immediately standing up. "Heyyy~"

"Nope."

His face drops. "Wha- I didn't even say anything!"

"Whatever it is, no. I don't like when you do that voice, it spells trouble." You groan as you shrug off your jacket, hanging it in your locker with your purse.

"Hear me out!" He pleads with big eyes.

"Put me on bar duty, I'm not doing it-"

"He said he'd pay you directly, almost a full cut." That gives you pause, looking over your shoulder at him as you unbutton your sweater.

"Who?" He hesitates a moment too long for your liking. "Hong, who did you pimp me out to?"

"Joker," he mumbles under his breath, looking around the room slowly to avoid your death glare. "I should get that light fix-"

You slam the locker door shut, "I thought we had an agreement!"

"He's basically fucking throwing the money at our feet! How can you say no to-"

"Like this! No! He's a damn weirdo, I was afraid he'd steal my panties or cut my hair or something. I don't want to spend another three hours in a hotel with that man!"

"You won't be..." He looks down at the floor, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Hongjoong." You sneer, taking a step towards him. "What the fuck did you do?"

ꕥ

"I'm going to quit." You sigh as Hongjoong pulls into the parking lot of the hotel. "Seriously, I quit. I'm gonna t-"

"Don't be so dramatic."

"I'm not dramatic, I just don't want to end up with my head in a jar or some wack shit! Seven hours- what in actual, like actual, actual fuck is wrong with you? This is the damn Joker we're talking about!"

You hate Hongjoong so badly right now. He'd signed you up for an entire seven hour shift with the man. You didn't know who's stupider, him or you. Because here you are, despite your complaining and worries. Maybe because deep down you want to see what will happen. If he'll be nice again.

Seven hours, all in one night. That's three thousand five hundred dollars into Hongjoong's pocket. And if Yunho actually pays you even half of that directly, you'll probably do anything he asks.

That is a fuck load of money for you.

"This is the last time I ever want to see him, do you understand me? I don't care is he offers us ten grand each." Well — that's a bit of exaggeration. Ten grand would absolutely get you to do anything the maniac asked. But you genuinely want nothing to do with the man. He brings chaos wherever he goes and he takes joy in it.

"Deal." He leans and kisses your head, "gotta keep my best girl happy." He smiles lightly, feeling a bit guilty for sending you into a situation that you were clearly uncomfortable with, at least on the surface. But when he tried to deny Yunho when he asked for you again, he glared a deathly glare and offered him five grand up-front.

He can admit that the jokesters infatuation with you is... strange. When you told him that the man made you uncomfortable, he was sure that he wouldn't let him anywhere near you again.

But Jeong Yunho is nothing if not persistent and scary when denied something he wants. And for reasons unclear to either of you — it's you that the man wants.

"Go make that clown happy," he says with a pat to your head.

ꕥ

"You're late," Yunho hums from his place sprawled out on the hotel bed as you enter. He's dressed a great deal more casual than yesterday, black on black on black with his sweatpants, socks, and hoodie.

"Sorry, Joker. I didn't know you had-"

"It's Yunho to you." He sits up quickly and looks you up and down. You hadn't had time to do your makeup before your boss was dragging you out of the club. You're in your day clothes, jeans and sweater and jacket to try and fight off the Gotham winter.

You notice him staring, of course you do; because he isn't even trying to be sly about it. What would be the point? "Would you like me to change?" You flinch as he stands, you'd forgotten how tall the man is in just the short amount of time.

"Yes. You don't look comfortable. Do you have pajamas?"

"Are we not going to-"

"No." He laughs as you look at him ask if to ask why, raising your eyebrows. "Don't get me wrong, doll," he says as he takes your bag, setting it down on the chair, "you're goddamn beautiful, but I don't pay for sex."

You can't help the little scoff you let out. You quickly cover your mouth as his head whips around, mumbling out an apology as he stalks forward. "What?" He smirks, "you still think I'm going to fuck you while you're on the clock?"

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to offend you! It's just-" You look away from him quickly, "that's my job? I'm not quite sure why I'm here if you don't- if we don't, y'know..."

"Because I want you to be." He says simply, titling his head as he looks down at you. "Do you need more reason than that?"

"...yes?"

"You're pretty, you feel nice to hold. I've decided that I like you." He shrugs nonchalantly, purposefully leaving out the fact that the fire in your eyes has enamored him because he doesn't want to spook you further, turning back into the room and gesturing to your bag, "did you say you had pajamas?"

What? What the actual shit? Did he actually just say that? Was that his way of saying he has some sort of school boy crush on you?

"Uhm... yeah, I do."

"Good. Get changed, I want to sleep a bit."

He doesn't leave the room this time when you change, simply laying back on the bed and flipping through the channels on the TV while nursing a lollipop. You briefly thought about going to the bathroom to change, but decided against it incase he somehow found that offensive. It's not like he hasn't already seen you essentially naked.

When he beckons you into the bed, you're back into the awkward position you were last night as well; only this time you're thankful to have the television to look at.

"Do you have a favorite position?" He asks suddenly, making your eyes widen for a second before he clarifies, "to cuddle?"

"It's- it's been a while since I had someone to cuddle with." Not for many, many years. You can hardly remember anyone giving you such soft touches in bed.

"Me too, actually." He admits, and it makes you feel a little more comfortable. "Not since I was a child. But I love it." He smiles, genuine and unfiltered as he says, "want to know a secret?"

"A secret?"

"I sleep with a stuffed animal."

It takes a moment for the information to sink in — and then you're imagining The Joker climbing into bed at the end of a long day of wreaking havoc on Gotham and snuggling his stuffed animals. And then you're laughing.

And it's the most melodic sound he's ever heard.

You quickly push the laughter away, shaking the image from your head, "sorry," you clear your throat, "just- that's just one hell of a thing to imagine."

He's still in awe for a few moments, and you're starting to get worried by his silence when he finally speaks up, "I know which one we can try."

You gasp quietly as he suddenly grabs you, easily turning you onto your side to face away from him. Maneuvering you like a doll. He pulls your back flush with his chest, moaning softly as he locks his arms around your waist. His nose finds its way to your hair before he can stop himself, and a pleased hum bubbles in his throat at the smell of your shampoo. "Mmm~ I like this."

You do to, and you're mad at yourself because of it. His strong arms and broad chest feel so safe for no logical reason, his leg draping over yours doesn't make you feel like you're being pinned down; it simply feels like he's trying to get closer. And you let him.

"Sleep with me, baby." The new nickname has you melting further into his hold, your eyes growing heavy as his warmth seeps into you. You can't help yourself. It's human nature to seek affection — and you've been deprived of it so long that you absolutely revel in it.

"Please, Daddy-" It's his turn to melt, his forehead pressed against the back of your head with a gentle sigh. He didn't even have to coax it out of you. You really are perfect, he thinks. "-keeping holding me."

"Of course."

ꕥ

You didn't work the next night, having gotten a text from your boss that you were moving to day shifts. When you entered the bar at eleven in the morning the day after that, you were ready to rip him a new one.

"Hong!" You yell as you bang on the door to his office again, getting impatient. "Hey, I gotta talk to you-"

The door swings open and reveals Joker's wide smile, "hiya, doll~" You drop your arm back to your side, looking past him into the room and finding Hongjoong with his head in his hands. You have the sneaking suspicion that they just did a deal — with you at the center of it.

You push past the tall man and storm into the room, ignoring his pout. "What in the world is going on with you lately? Day shift? Me? Are you goddamn stupid, Hong?" You reach over and smack him upside the head.

Yunho's jaw drops a bit watching you hit your pimp and curse at him. His eyes start shining as he sees that fire in you less unfiltered; showing it as you voice your upset. "Day shift is so slow! I thought I'm your best girl? What the fuck?"

If you had been any other worker and boss, especially in Gotham, you'd probably have your tongue cut out by now for mouthing off. But not you and Riddler. He has a soft spot for you. Not soft enough to ignore the bag of money under his desk curtesy of the jokester in the doorway, though.

He thinks it might actually be good for you. And, again, if you were anyone else, he'd have fought the man harder when he bribed him to take him most earning worker off of the night shift. But you aren't. You're you. And he thinks you deserve a break.

This might not be the break you're wanting, but it's the one you're going to get.

"Are you seriously going to do this to me?" You ask a bit softer as he finally lifts his head and looks at you.

"...Yes. I'm sorry, (Y/n)."

Riddler gets slapped across the face, and he looks down while The Joker laughs quietly; still watching with fascination. "I'm so angry with you." You sneer, "I was finally going to start taking real classes, you know that. How am I going to do that when I'm working during the day? When I can't pay for them? I- Oh, Auntie is going to hear about this!"

His head snaps up as you turn on your heel and storm right back out of the room, shoving The Joker with your shoulder. They both hear the locker room door slam, followed by a muffled shout of frustration. Yunho turns his head to Hongjoong slowly, lifting an eyebrow. "Auntie?"

Hongjoong sighs, falling back in his chair. "Word of advice, Joker? Never work with your cousin."

He looks at him shellshocked for a moment before he burst into a fit of laughter.

"Get out of my office before I stab you." He groans, placing his forehead on the desk. He's starting to regret doing business with the Clown Prince of Chaos.

Yunho continues his laughter as he exits, closing the door with a sigh of amusement. He checks his watch before taking a look towards the locker room. You still haven't exited, but he's got time to kill while waiting.

When you head into the lounge room, you roll your eyes at the sight of Yunho's back facing you; sitting at the bar.

As you push the saloon like door with your hip, you speak up with a punch in your tone, "is this your doing, Joker?" You give him only a second long glare before you start pouring yourself a drink. "Has your paws all over it."

"Yup~" He leans his chin in his palm as he watches you, "think about it-"

"I should slap you, too."

He smirks at the thought, "go ahead." You tut your tongue at his evident excitement, lifting yourself onto the counter across from the bar. "Seriously, though," he shrugs, digging for his lighter in his pocket, "think about it. You can get on a good sleep schedule." He takes a long puff of his cigarette, "take those classes you were talking about."

"How can I do that when I'm working?"

"I'll pay," he says without hesitation, making you choke on your drink. "How long are the lectures? One, two hours? That's nothing."

You set your glass down next to you, wiping your mouth as you search his face for any clues to as what he's up to. "You'll- why?"

"Because I want to." That seems to be his go to answer. And, really, how can you argue with that? If the kingpin wants to do something, even if nobody understands it; it's most likely going to happen. He got you moved to days so he could spend more waking hours with you. And if taking classes will make you happy enough to put up with him, he's all for it with zero hesitation. "I'll pay for as many classes as you want to take. You just have to do one thing for me."

Here he goes again. You chew the inside of your cheek for a moment before nodding, "what?"

"Smile." It's simple enough. But it still makes you hesitate. You're used to so many commands. Lay down, kneel, shut up — why are his, of all people, so soft?

"Smile?" You repeat in disbelief. He nods, a small grin of his own playing on his lips as he watches the cogs turn in your eyes. "That's it? You don't want me to suck you off or something like a normal guy?"

He chuckles under his breath, tapping his metal finger accessory against his cheekbone; the look in his eyes saying 'do I seem like a normal guy?' "While I would love to see what you can do — I'm satisfied with this for now."

Is he serious? You ask yourself that a lot. For someone called Joker, he seems deadly serious when it comes to what he's saying to you.

You crack a smile.

ꕥ

A few weeks pass. You have a routine. You're staring to enjoy being on day shift.

You took Yunho up on his offer and he pays for you to take classes three days a week, you're technically on the clock. Just doing something completely different. He doesn't touch you — not like that.

He pays for your time more than just when you sit in the classroom. He likes to have you around when he's not busy with work. Likes for you to sit in his lap and comb his hair with your fingers as you tell him all about the lectures you're taking thanks to him. He doesn't care about the subject matter, he just relaxes into your touch and listens to your voice to calm his frazzled mind. He likes keeping his hand on your waist, or the small of your back.

The first time he gave you a gift, you cried. It was only a thick jacket, he said he was tired of seeing you shiver in 'that poor excuse of a coat'. When he picked you up from your class the next day, and he saw you coming down the stairs; bundled up in the gift — he knew he wanted to give you more things.

You're an expensive obsession, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even flinch. He's practically rolling in money. Crime happens to be profitable.

He can see you coming to life more and more each time he sees you. The fire is brighter. You are brighter.

Monday, Wednesday, and Friday you have class. Yunho picks you up then and takes you to his club, saying he should know if his money is well spent when you ask him why he's so curious about your lecture. All he does is nod and hum softly in response while you ramble and rub his head.

Today is Wednesday, and it's freezing cold as you exit the building. You check your phone. One message from 'J' which reads 'Five minutes.' You bounce on your feet while you wait, chewing on a piece of gum to distract yourself from the bone chilling cold seeping into your legs.

Yunho likes when you wear skirts, and you like when he's happy.

"Hey, kid."

You whip your head to the side quickly at the unfamiliar voice, holding your purse tighter. You look the man up and down. "Can I help you?" He reaches in his suit jacket pocket, and you're immediately doing the same.

He holds out a police ID, you brandish a pocket knife with a diamond carved in the metal. Another gift from Yunho.

"Oh, shit," you flip it closed quickly, "sorry. You should know better than to spook someone, though." He waves it off, but he keeps his eyes on the small knife until it's back in your coat pocket.

"Are you Kim (Y/n)?"

You suck in a breath, debating on lying to the man — who clearly knows who you are by the way he asked. Not inquiring, more like letting you know. You shove your hands into your jacket, nodding, "one and only."

"I remember you from when your parents-" Your glare stops his words. Touchy subject, of course. "Sorry, a bit blunt of me." He holds out his hand. "Detective Bullock." You don't shake it.

"Is there some new evidence or something? I told you all to leave me alone years ago."

"No, sorry. I'm not cold case, i'm major crimes." He reaches into his back pocket, slower this time. He turns a photo towards you, the one on the top of the stack. "You know this man?" It's Yunho outside of The Riddle Room.

"Ehhhh," you scratch your head, "never seen him."

"Don't play games, kid." He takes the top picture away and reveals one of you and the man. "Want to try again?"

"Wow," you sigh, looking away and popping your bubblegum, "photoshop is getting crazy these days." Where the fuck is the clown when you need him? You search the street for his car, finding nothing.

"Is your cousin pimping you out to him?" You freeze in your spot, jaw tightening. "How much does he pay to have you be his eye candy?"

"I dunno what you mean, Bollocks."

"Bullock-" He groans, flipping to the next picture and looking down at it. "This is a personal favorite." You look in your peripheral, and then you do a double take, snatching the stack from his fingers to get a better look.

It's a photo of you and Yunho again. Outside of the hotel after you slept together — only slept. The man's large hand cupping your cheek, the metal over his index and middle finger catching the morning light. You'd never seen how he looks at you from an outside perspective. It's like he has stars in his eyes as he looks down at you.

"You following me everywhere?" You ask shakily, despite the way you try to steady your voice.

"The Riddlers number one lady suddenly starts spending time with The Joker, we want to keep an eye. So," he takes the pictures back, save for the one that you still look down at, "did they make some sort of deal? You as a barging chip?"

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"So tell me. I can get you immunity. I know what you do, if you give me something incriminating on Joker — I'll let you off scot free."

A car door slams. Yunho's voice booms. "Hey!" You immediately run to him, shoving the picture into your pocket. You jump off the last two steps and hug his neck.

"Mister J!" You'd taken up the nickname when he said how it was unfair he has so many for you, and he only has one. He was only joking, and so were you when you came up with it off the top of your head. But it stuck.

He wraps his arms around you tightly for a moment, glaring at the man over your shoulder. His hands slide to your waist and he pulls back, looking down at you. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm-"

"Go wait in the car for me, princess. You're gonna catch a cold." He squeezes your sides softly before sending you on your way. You hesitate for only a moment, looking over your shoulder at him as he stalks towards the detective. He's practically steaming with anger. Whatever he's about to say, it's probably better you don't hear. You don't want to be held liable. You get in the car quickly.

"How are you, Joker?" The man leans against the wall, raising an eyebrow.

"Fucking pissed, how about yourself?" Yunho gets right up on the man, only a mere few inches between them. "Are you that desperate?"

"Are you? Paying for a girl," Bullock whistles, "I didn't peg you for that t-"

"A man can't have a girlfriend? Huh? This is a new low, even for you." He spits with venom, the metal on his fingers digging into his palm. "She hasn't done anything, so stay the fuck away from her."

"Do you think I'm stupid? She's a prostitute-"

"I will cut out your tongue and gift it to her in a ribbon soaked with your blood."

His eyes widen a bit. He curses himself for not wearing a wire, but then — Joker hasn't been so quick to jump to verbal threats before.

They've been in a game of cat and mouse for some years now. The Joker always just slipping away. Never leaving enough evidence or paper trails to be solid in court. He's smart.

"Even you should know when a line has been crossed, right? This is the line. Cross it again and you will regret it."

Yunho looks the man up and down with disgust evident on his face as he turns away. "If I catch even a whiff of you around her again, I'll will make you pay."

Bullock can only watch, perhaps in state of shock, as the man makes his way down the stairs.

"What did you say to him?" You ask as Yunho slides into the car, slamming the door after him.

"Told him I'd appreciate if he stayed away from you." He says through gritted teeth, turning the vent towards you as he turns on the heat. His hands then immediately find his carton of cigarettes, an irritated sigh leaving his lips as he glances out the window towards the detective.

"You said that?"

"That's the PG version, yeah."

The sound of your soft laugh makes his racing mind calm down, and he watches in the corner of his eye as you buckle your seat belt. He doesn't bother, though. "Thanks, Daddy," you lean across and kiss his cheek.

It's chaste and quick, but it makes his heart jump into his throat. He's still thinking about it as he starts to drive away, and then for a good few minutes afterwards.

"Man, that fucking creep," you groan as you lean against the car window, "who sneaks up on a lady in Gotham of all places? I pulled my knife on him."

Yunho looks over from the driver side, his anger slowly fading in your presence. "You did?"

"Yeah, I thought he was going to rob me. I thought, 'fuck that'!"

He laughs, reaching over and resting his hand on your inner thigh; stroking your skin softly. "That's my girl."

ꕥ

"So," you hum softly as you rake your fingers through his hair later that day. You're straddled over his lap, his hand placed on your thighs; appreciating the softness of your skin. "You going to tell me what your deal is what that cop?"

"Mh, I don't like him." His bluntness makes you chuckle. He peeks his eyes open from their blissful close, looking up at you. "Why so curious?"

"He was trying to get me to turn you in-"

He sits up quickly, hands tightening on your legs, "what did you say?" He tilts his head, eyes flicking all over your face.

"I didn't say anything. Why would I?"

His eyes lock on yours. You seem to be truthful. "You didn't?"

"No," you continue combing through his tousled hair with your fingers, "I don't want my Mister J thrown in jail."

He laughs, relieved, as he leans into your touch again. "Atta girl~" He finds his hands sliding further up your thighs without thinking about it; and he even notices it before you do — too busy putting a small braid in his hair. He keeps them there. It's comforting as he decides to open up and give you a bit more information. "His name is Harvey Bullock. The detective."

"Mhm?" You nod, urging him to continue while you settle in his lap. The heat of your cunt almost makes him gasp. You don't even notice what you're doing to him.

He clears his throat, refocusing his brain, "I knew him when I was a boy. He tried to steer me away from crime, but it's what I'm good at, y'know? He's on some self redemption mission cause he thinks he's responsible for what I do, the self righteous fuck-face. He's been trying to get me for years, now. I'm always smarter though~" He slides his hands further up, and he can tell you notice now by the way you stiffen ever so slightly when he gives your ass a squeeze. "If you see him around, you let me know. Got it?"

"Of course, J," you swipe his fallen hair from his forehead gently. "Oh-" you lean and grab your jacket from the back of the chair you both sit on. "He had," you pull out the photo, "bunch of these. At least a few weeks worth."

He keeps one hand on your ass, the other pinching the photo to take it. "Hm," he smirks as he looks down at it, "cute. He should have gone into photography rather than police work. Maybe then he'd get somewhere." You chuckle a bit, shaking your head as you go to take the picture. "Put that on my desk, doll."

You look around it for a second, the flat surface doesn't provide many places to put it. You decide on propping it up against the bowl of lollipops. "Here?"

"Perfect. C'mere," he pulls you closer in his lap again. "I'm gonna ask you to do something now," he strokes your cheek with his knuckles, "and you can say no. It's past six, you can just go home. Remember that, princess." Whether it's from the stress of seeing you with the detective earlier or he's just finally getting plain impatient — he has to ask.

He looking at you so softly, so hopefully. You can't help but ask, "what is it?"

"Kiss me."

Your heart skips a beat before it starts thudding wildly. From the way he's groping your ass through your panties, you expected something more... vulgar. "Kiss?"

He nods, "just some kisses, baby. All of our clothes can stay right where they are." He can tell you're still a bit hesitant, but it fades as you lean forward and softly press your lips to his.

Both of your eyes fall shut, a blissed out hum in his throat. Your lips are just as soft as the rest of you. Your lipgloss smells like his favorite flavor lollipop as it smears against his lips with your slow movements. And it fills his gut with tingles at the fact that you're doing this. You aren't on the clock. You're kissing him because you want to.

You open up your mouth the second his tongue flicks against your lips. You lick at him, albeit a bit more held back than how he licks at you. He tastes like smoke and sugar and you never want to pull away.

When he takes your tongue into his mouth and sucks — you let out a soft whimper, hips grinding against his lap slowly. He moans softly into you, both hands gripping your ass and beginning to guide you along his growing bulge in a way that makes you melt. You grab onto his shoulders, panting softly as he pulls back.

"Fuck-" He groans, "you're so fucking hot." Whether he means in general or the way your heat seeps through your panties and rubs against his clothed cock — probably both. Your hips stutter, eyebrows twitching as you keep your eyes closed. "Are you needy, baby?"

You're used to so much more sex than you've been having. He's been hogging your schedule almost completely and this is the most he's ever touched you. "Y-yes."

"You want to cum on Daddy's lap?"

"Yes!" Comes your response as soon as he's done speaking, making him chuckle. "Just- just like this, please?"

"Just like this, pretty girl~ You can make us both cum like this, can't ya'?"

The thought of making him cum in his pants has you a little more excited than you thought it would. Nodding quickly, you spread your knees further and earn yourself a deep groan from his throat as you grind onto him deeper. "My eager girl," he moans while his head tilts back, basking in the pleasure and letting you set your own pace, "doing so good~"

His praise makes the dams in your eyes break, now crying freely into his neck while you grind against him. He smirks at the feeling of your tears wetting his skin, pulling your head back to look at you. "Why you cryin', baby?" He hums, leaning his hips up into you and making you gasp.

"Feels-" You try to sniff back your tears, "feels so good..."

"Aww, doll~ Humping my lap got you this worked up? So good you're crying for me?"

"Mhm," you reply with a pout, leaning into his palm as he uses his thumb to wipe your cheek.

"So precious," he grins as you try to use his palm to hide your tears, his member twitching underneath you. He pulls your head to his neck, leaning his head to the side, "mark me up, princess."

You don't hesitate to start leaving open mouthed kisses down his throat, grabbing onto the ends of his hair to steady yourself as you get closer and closer to your peak. You start sucking softly, your hips swirling when he groans; his fingers twitching on your ass, wanting to smack.

"Shit- just like that, baby..." A whine breaks off in his throat as he holds himself back, sliding his hands up your back instead and pulling you close. "Ah~" He lets out a particularly loud moan as you suck below his ear. "Mmh, you're gonna make me cum, princess~ So good, so perfect," he starts mumbling nonsense as he holds back his orgasm, desperate to wait for you.

"Fuckin' can't wait to ruin your pretty pussy. Gonna make you sob on my dick, baby~ Pound you so hard you can't talk, can't fucking walk the next day. Won't even be able to run away when I try to fuck you again, will you~? No~" His pleasure drunken rambling is making you soak your panties, whimpering into his heated skin with your jaw agape.

"T- tell me more." You pant, and he starts grinding up into you harder — like he's trying to fuck you through the layers of fabric while he hugs you to his chest tightly.

"Ha~" He laughs breathlessly, panting just as much as you, "you like that idea, doll? You wanna be fucking helpless beneath me while I have my way? Maybe I'll drag you to the bar and make everyone watch while I make you cum on my cock like a good girl-"

"Ah! C-cumming~!" You squeal as his filthy fantasies send you tumbling off the edge, hands searching for purchase and finding it by fisting his vest tightly.

"Fuck, fuck!" He grits his teeth, grinding into you roughly as he finally lets go and cums with you; his eyes rolling straight back into his head and his metal nail rings digging into your back to keep you as close as possible.

You breathe heavily as you hold onto his suit vest for dear life, body wracked with sobs from the emotional release that came with your orgasm. You've never felt that before — and you'd probably be frightened or confused if not for Yunho's rumbling hum of ecstasy providing you a sense of steadiness as you both float back down to Earth.

"Damn," he moans simply, easing his grip on you until you scramble and hug him tightly; wrapping your arms around his neck as you keep your face buried in his shoulder. "Shhh," he quickly wraps his arms back around you, cradling you to him, "don't worry, princess. I'm not going anywhere."

The soft strokes of his fingers while he holds you eases your worries. Not a thought in your head other than how nice he feels against you.

ꕥ

"Hiya, baby~" He greets as you enter his office, the slow music in his club briefly flooding the room before you shut the door behind you with a smile.

It's been a few more weeks. He's been a little more open with his touches, he's asked for more kisses; but other than that, things have remained the same.

"Hey, Daddy." You quit thinking it was weird to call him that pretty quickly. Just like his infatuation with you wearing skirts or sending him photos of your outfits. Because it makes him happy and happy means you're treated well. You're spoiled even. "How has your day been?"

He points to the liquor on his shelf, and that answers your question. You giggle lightly as you grab the bottle and two glasses. "You want me to play with your hair?" You ask softly as you pour his glass first, nearly filling it before sliding it to him across his desk. You only pour a few sips for yourself. You happen to be a lightweight, and he's the opposite. But he still insists on sharing with you when he drinks; even if you only have just a sip, it appeases him.

He rolls his chair back and stands, downing his drink and sliding it back to you. He taps his metal nail on the table and nods as he heads to the couch on the wall that he put in specifically for you. It didn't get much use from you alone, you were almost always in his lap.

You pour him another glass and carry it over, handing it to him with a smile as you straddle his spread legs. "Thank you, baby," he smiles back as he takes it with one hand, the other immediately finding your waist. "Tell me about your day."

"Same old," you shrug, tracing over a fresh bruise on the side of his head, "what happened?"

"Some asshole decided to slam my head on a wall when I came for payment." Your eyes widen, a pout on your lips. "Oh, don't pout," he coos as he brings his thumb to your lips, tracing them softly. He's never practiced self restraint so much as he does with you. There's been a million and one times where he's wanted to say 'fuck it' and do everything he can think of with your mouth. "Smile for me."

"You could have gotten hurt-" Why do you care? It's not like you're dating. But... it kind of feels like it. Especially in times like this where he looks at you like you're the Goddess who hung the stars in the sky. You put a smile on your lips; or maybe it comes naturally as he cups your face.

"Worried about me, doll?"

"In your dreams, Mister J."

"I must be dreaming, then."

ꕥ

You're more tipsy than you would like to admit. The world sways a bit as you get off of Yunho's lap to pour him another drink. "Easy steady, princess," he laughs softly as he places his hands on your hips.

He's just as bad as you are, even though it took him admittedly much more alcohol to get there. His ears are flushed pink and it's spreading down his neck, his tie hanging loosely from his tugging at it.

"I got it," you giggle as you shove his hands away gently. He watches you closely as you pour the drink, all the way until you come back to him and seamlessly climb back into his lap like it's your rightful throne. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

His gaze is always so intense, but there's something else in it right now. "What are you into?" He asks bluntly, blinking up at you while he sips.

"Like what?" He knows most, if not all, your hobbies and interests by now. What can he possibly me-

"During sex."

Your eyes widen to saucers for a moment, your mouth agape. "Uh-" Your years of experience take over, "whatever you want me to be."

He tuts his tongue, a sigh that smells like cinnamon coming from his lips. "No," he shakes his head, "you. What do you like?" He's held himself back from asking more intimate questions, anything to do with sex really, because even just thinking about it has the image of you in the little white babydoll dress popping up in his head or the sounds you made while you came on his lap replaying in his mind and his cock twitching to life.

But the alcohol is winning over his self control. He's really getting impatient.

"I like..." You look down, look at the walls, look at anything but his dilated eyes. You seem to be struggling to comprehend that he's asking what pleases you. You start with what you know he's into as well. "Being manhandled."

He set his glass to the side, both of his hands resting innocently on your waist; but his words are anything but. "More. I want to know what gets your pussy dripping."

You meet his gaze for a fraction of a second, and not a moment longer because it makes your heart beat even more wildly — the pure lust in his eyes. The carnal want he has just from thinking about what you're into.

"I like... being choked." You say it almost as if it's a question, like you aren't sure if he'll like the answer. His hands twitch on your sides.

"Yeah? What else?"

You feel like your heart is going to crack a rib with the ferocity with which it's beating. "Rough sex."

"How rough?" He asks quickly, his heart matching your owns rapid pace. He can already see you spread out beneath him, crying from pleasure while he chokes you.

You yelp softly as he pulls you up in his lap, landing your jean clad heat above the bulge in his slacks. "Do feel how hard you make me? Over simple fucking things. God —" He curses under his breath, letting his head loll back onto the couch. "Tell me. How rough?"

You falter for a moment before you place your hands on his shoulders, making yourself comfortable in the new position. "Really rough," you whisper, "I like to be thrown around. I like- well, I've never done it before but... I have fantasies about it-"

"Tell me." He has to squeeze your sides so he doesn't go feral and bend you over right here and now.

For some reason, his desperation for you has you all hot; you think the alcohol is definitely adding to it but you aren't stupid enough to blame it all on that. You have feelings for The Joker. And you know it's not right, it's not healthy. But you want more. You want to explore every part of yourself with him.

"I think I'd like it if you spanked me, or... slapped me maybe? You have such big hands..."

You bring one of his hands from your waist, and he holds it up for you as you trace his fingers with a ghostly touch. His pupils are blown wide, his cock straining against his pants. The cold metal of his sharp rings sends goosebumps up your arm. "They're so big and pretty." He believes he might lose the rest of his sanity as you praise something as simple as his hands. "They could do so much to me," you mumble, not even meaning to say it out loud but not caring once you have.

You spread your hand out to mirror his, and his breath hitches in his throat as he sees just how small your hands are compared to his own. "Fuck..." He lets out in a pant, lacing his fingers with yours and looking at you a bit frantically. "You're so damn perfect, doll. I can't wait to ruin you."

The corners of your lips twitch, "don't. Don't wait anymore. I want you, Daddy."

He has never believed in divine intervention more than when he looks at the close and sees it turn 6:01. You're off the clock and you finally want him.

"Fucking finally," he sighs with relief, going on to quickly grab the back of your neck and pull your face down to his, "quit your job. Be all mine, princess. I will give you the goddamn world if you want it. You know all you have to say i-"

"Please, Daddy," you have a light smirk as you roll your hips ontop of his, rough denim of your jeans grinding on his suit.

His eyes are flicking to every part of your face, always landing back in your lips. "Is that a yes?"

"Yes." His lips feel like heaven all over again as you press yours to them. His hand slides from the back of your neck to the front, resting against the column of your throat.

You blink your eyes open slowly, meeting his. His lips split into the largest grin you've ever seen, unadulterated manic glee evident as he looks up at you. "Tell me more," he hums as his hand traces down slowly, the metal on his fingers scraping your neck lightly. Not even enough to draw blood or leave marks, but it has you dizzy. "Tell me what you want me to do to you now that you're all mine."

"Fuck-" You whimper as he cups your breast through your thick sweater. "Every- everything, Daddy."

"Everything~?" He leans forward and gets his first real taste of your skin, leaving opened mouth kisses on your neck as his hands slide across your torso. "You want me to rough you up, pretty girl?"

"Yes," you pant softly as you wrap your fingers up in his hair, instinctively grinding down on him to lessen the pressure building in your lower gut.

He grips the bottom of your sweater and pushes it up with a groan of annoyance, "take this off. Let me see you." He leans back, spreading his legs and guiding your hips at a more intense angle as you pull it off quickly. "Lose the bra, too, doll~"

As soon as you unclasp your bra, a sudden wave of shyness overtakes you. You don't know how it's even possible to be shy anymore, but you are as his eyes flick from yours to your chest repeatedly. Maybe you're afraid to disappoint him. Maybe it's because this is the first time in a long time that you've been with someone you have an actual relationship with, no matter how strange it might be.

"Don't be shy, princess," he traces on your side with his metal nail — his name. Over and over again. But you're too flustered to tell. "Let Daddy see."

You gulp past the small lump in your throat and let the fabric fall, your nipples peaked from the way he grinds you against his bulge; the cold air making you whine a bit.

"Damn..." He licks his lips, staring unabashed. "Look at you~" He whistles as takes you in from every angle, tilting his head this way and that.

"Would you-" You waver, a moan breaking your voice, "kiss them?"

He doesn't have to be asked twice, he dives right in. Kissing every inch of skin on your chest: smooching, licking, nipping, sucking. When he reaches your nipples, he brings one of his hands up and rolls his thumb over the pebbled flesh while sucking the other; gently, at first. Then he hears the most delicious little whimper as his teeth graze your flesh.

He starts a steady suction over your nipple, flicking his tongue quickly and circling the other with his thumb. "Oh-" You gasp, holding onto his shoulders tightly for leverage as you roll your hips quicker, "oh god, Yunho~"

His hips act with a mind of their own, bucking into you as soon as his name leaves your mouth. He pulls away from your chest with a lewd pop. "Say my name again," he moans lowly before leaving a pointed lick to your wet nipple.

"Yunho!" You mewl as your head tilts back, hips stuttering and legs beginning to tremble on either side of him.

"Are you about to cum, princess~?" You let out a high pitched moan as he wraps his large hand around your neck and yanks you down, making you bend over him as you grind. "Are you? Tell Daddy."

"Y-yes! Please! I'm so close," you whine into his lips, eyes fluttering shut as he squeezes your throat for the first time. The noise you make is burned into his brain. Like you just came then and there because of the pressure of his hand on your neck. Like you're about to float away.

"Go ahead, baby," he hums deeply, his cock twitching under you; leaking so much pre-cum that there's a little wet patch forming on his slacks. "Make yourself cum on my lap again. Make yourself feel good~"

"Fuck!!" You shout as you come undone over him, your hips trembling and your fists grabbing his vest so roughly that he swears he hears a seam rip over your sweet sounds. He drinks in every twitch of your face, committing it to memory as he grips your hips tightly and guides you through it.

"There ya' go, that's it, pretty girl," he holds back a chuckle as you slump against him, hiding your face in your bundled up fists on his chest. "Catch your breath, doll. I got you. Daddy's got you~"

You shiver atop of him in the after shocks, sniffling quietly.

"You good, baby?" He asks softly as he tilts your head up, his eyebrows creasing together as he takes in your teary eyes.

"Very." You nod with a small, dopey smile. "Thank you, Daddy~" You lean and give him a kiss, hands sliding up his chest as loosening his tie enough to pull it over his head when you pull back.

He lifts you up off his lap, standing up and helping you get steady on your own two feet. "Take your clothes off." He says quickly as he starts removing his own, "everything but your panties."

You work fast, both of you watching and scanning each new inch of skin that gets exposed with burning lust. "You want me to fuck you, baby?" He leans to your level as he unbuttons his shirt, "want me to be rough?"

"Fuck, yes," you grin wildly, cupping his cheek and kissing him rougher than before. It's fleeting, but it makes him smirk when you pull back — that fire in your eyes is brighter than ever.

"C'mere," he grabs you by the neck, smirking as you lean into his grasp. "I'm going to fucking wreck you, I hope you know that."

"Do it-" The yelp you let out morphs into a moan as his palm makes contact with your ass. "S- damn!"

"You like that, baby?"

You nod quickly, rewarded with another smack to your ass. You jump a bit, a large smile on your face all the while. "Come on, Daddy," you yank him closer by his belt loop and expertly undo his buckle, sliding the belt off of his hips in one fluid motion. "Let me treat you for a change."

"Another day, baby-" You pout at him as he pulls you back up when you try to kneel, "I want to eat you out."

You pause, feeling a whole new wave of heat in your body. "W-what?"

"I want to eat you o-"

"Oh my god, please-" You grab at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and dragging him down to peck his lips repeatedly. "Please, Yunho, don't say that unless you mean it. It's been so long-"

"I mean it." He nods sincerely, "I've fantasized about making out with your cunt more times than I can count." He backs you up with his hands on your hips until your thighs hit his desk. "I want to spoil your pussy, make you soak my face~"

He looks down at you with dark eyes, chewing on his lip as he guides you to sit on the edge of the desk. "Yeah?" You breathe shakily as he spreads your knees, your throat suddenly dry despite the pools of saliva you keep swallowing.

"Yeah." He nods again, leaning down to kiss across your neck while he removes his rings. "You ever squirted before, baby?" His breath tickles your skin, his hands are hot while he caress down your thighs.

"No," you whisper, slightly hesitant but still letting him maneuver you however he likes; spreading your legs across his desk and tracing teasingly soft patterns in your inner thighs.

"Don't worry, pretty girl," he smirks as he pulls back, going on to kneel in front of you, "I can make it happen~"

"You can?" You swallow again, your heart in your throat as you take in the sight of The Joker on his knees for you.

"I bet so," he nips your thigh softly, making you jolt. "Ask me nicely, princess. You know what to say~"

You lift your hips towards him, and he quickly pulls down your panties — shoving them in his pocket before he slides you closer to the edge. "Please, Daddy, I want you to eat my pussy until I squirt- g-ah!!"

His mouth is so hot. He wraps his lips around your entire cunt and sucks. Slurping and drinking up all the arousal that's pooled up from his teasing; letting his tongue dive into you and twirl around to gather up your previous orgasm.

"Oh, good hell!" You cry, hands immediately wrapped up in his hair roughly to ground yourself. "Don't- don't fucking stop," you groan as you pull him closer, hips bucking into the sensations, "I swear- I'll kill you if you stop."

He moans into your cunt, lapping up and down your slit faster. He can feel the fire inside of you, he can see it as you look down at him. This is exactly what he wanted from the very beginning. To stoke your hidden flame until it burns so brightly that it consumes him.

He's making out with your cunt like his life depends on it — because with the way you're gripping his head, it might. You might keep true to your threat and kill him if he dares to pull away. He doesn't mind, because he wouldn't be stopping anyway.

He closes his mouth around your clit, making you wail at the sudden focused suction. You fall back on his desk, papers scattering. He presses closer, humming with amusement as your thighs close around his head — nearly smothering him in your precautions to make sure he doesn't pull back.

"J- oh, yes! Yes!" You nod frantically as you feel two of his fingers teasing your entrance, eyes closed to bask in the flood of pleasure that keeps coming.

His fingers are so long; they press right against your g-spot as he fucks them into you knuckle deep, immediately starting a punishing pace in the way he curls them. "Ha~" You pant out, laughing in shock at just how skilled he is, tears falling from your closed eyes as your peak grows closer quickly. "You fucker," he moans again at the way your frazzled brain lets things slip, his eyes threatening to roll back into his head, "you're gonna make me cum..."

The way you're absolutely gushing on his tongue and fingers; he doesn't doubt it. "You're — oh, god — you're gonna make me cum!" You yell as the realization dawns on you through the mind-numbing ecstasy of his hot tongue and his deeply curling fingers. He's about to be the first person to make you cum from giving you head. And it's going to be big, you can both tell by the way you sweat and tremble while grinding into his mouth. "Please, please, oh please- Daddy!!"

Your back arches off the wood, jaw slack and knuckles losing their color from how tightly you grip his tousled hair. He did make you squirt. And it's an entirely different type of euphoria washing over you as you soak his chin, his hand, his forearm, his chest even gets splashed as his roughly curling fingers send your release sloshing around lewdly.

Your thighs shake around his head violently as he continues to thrust and curl his fingers as your peak passes; working you right back up to another one. "Nghhh~" You moan unintelligible as you slump on his desk, bringing one of your arms up to cover your eyes as you sob from the overwhelming pleasure. But, you don't want him to stop even as your body starts aching from the intense sensation of another orgasm building up.

Much to his dismay, Yunho has to pull back to breathe. But his disappointment while filling his lungs is overshadowed by the sight of your pussy leaking and twitching around his fingers and the view of you lying across his desk in an absolute mess of tears. "Fuck-" he pants, the hot puff of air meeting your clit and making you jolt. "I could eat your pussy all damn night, pretty girl~"

The nickname makes you clench around him, wordlessly begging. You swallow with a fair amount of trouble, your lungs burning from the soft moans that just won't stop spilling from your lips and the sobs wracking your ribs. "D-Daddy!"

"Mh~ Yes, baby?" He reaches his free hand down, palming his neglected member with a deep groan.

"P-uh!" You gasp as he spits right onto your throbbing clit. "Please, Daddy, fu- fuck my pussy~" You moan through your tears, eyes still covered with your arm.

"Are you ready for that? I'm pretty big, doll, and I've only stretched you on t-"

"Yes! Stretch me on your cock, pleaseeee! Make me fucking feel it-" He's yanking you up in the next second, holding your dizzy body to his chest and letting your feet drag across the ground as he pulls you towards the couch.

"Oh, you're gonna feel it~" He grins as he tosses you to lay across the length of the sofa. "I'm going to reshape your cunt so it only knows me. Rearrange your fucking guts while I'm at it — would you like that, princess? I bet you would, you're just as much a freak as me~"

You nod dizzily as he crawls over you, not even bothering to take his pants off all the way, only pulling his stiff and leaking member out. "I would." You have fuzzy hearts in your eyes while he spreads your legs for himself again, letting one of them dangle off the couch.

"Mh? Tell me. Wanna hear you say it." A shiver runs down his spine as he grabs the base of his length, sliding his tip up and down your messy slit.

You wipe the tears from your face roughly, looking up at him with a sniff, "Daddy..." You trail off, too distracted by his warm cock head rubbing against your clit.

"Say it. Tell me how much you want me, you can do it~" His free hand slides up your stomach, through the valley of your breasts, and lands on your throat. "Fucking beg." Something in your brain snaps into place. Realizing this is what you've always wanted, how you've always wanted to be treated. Stern and rough but so sweet and spoiled.

"Ffffuck-" You shudder, completely lax underneath him and tilting your head back to expose more of your throat as you start doing what he asked.

You start begging. Like your fucking soul is at stake. And he watches close. Eyes dark and filled with lust, smirk planted firmly on his slick lips and ears burning as he takes in your downright filthy words.

"Daddy, please! Oh, god, please- give it to me! Fuck me~ Fuck me rough, I- I need you! Ruin my pussy! Make it yours! I need you to pound me until I can't think, for the love of- ahh!" You moan out, elated, as he sinks his fat tip into you; fluttering around him so nicely that he has to dig his fingers into your neck to control himself. You let out a choked sigh, your eyes flickering shut as he slides into you. Slowly. Savoring every inch as he stretches your gooey walls, carving you out to fit his thick girth. "S'good~"

Your slurred hum makes him crazy. His brain short circuits as he bottoms out inside of you, relishing the feeling of your cunt hugging him. "Fuck me..." He groans lowly, "you feel fucking perfect~"

"Thank you~" You mumble, lost so deep in your pleasure that you don't even know what you're saying thank you for.

He laughs breathlessly, leaning over and kissing you gently for a moment while he starts a slow, experimental thrust. "You're so wet, baby~" He breathes in your soft gasp as he bottoms out again, taking your breath as his own. "Have a listen," he put his thumb over your lips and quiets your moans; giving another painstakingly slow thrust.

Your slick walls are squelching as they work to accommodate his girth, filling the office with lewd, wet sounds.

"Open your eyes, doll," he whispers, leaning over you, "look at me." Your eyes are filling back up with tears already — it makes him throb inside of you. You try to blink them away, but they aren't going anywhere. "Fuck, you're so gorgeous... You can cry all you want, princess, I don't mind." He rubs your cheek bone softly with his knuckle, "makes me hard."

You start letting your tears free fall, relieved that he's not going to call you a cry baby or flip you over so he doesn't have to see. You always cry when things feel good. You've tried to train yourself not to, but it's something you can't help.

His brows push together, a moan breaking off in his throat. "Mm- I'm going to fuck you for real now, no more playing around." He cups your heated face, resting his forehead on yours as he looks deep into your eyes. "I'm gonna make sure your pussy remembers who it belongs to."

You don't even have the wits about you to scream or moan or do anything other than cry and look up at him in awe as he starts a brutal pace; your eyes soft with passion behind your tears and you jaw slack as he pounds into you.

Before you even know what's what, your back arches towards him and you let out a shaking yelp of, "c-cumming!"

"Fu- Goddamn, baby!" He hisses, gritting his teeth as you clamp down on him. Your cunt trembles around him, convulsing in waves with your orgasm as your eyes roll. He pins you to the couch with his body, hugging your head to his chest as he continues to fuck you through and past your peak.

It's then that you start making those noises that make him go even harder; as he overstimulates your poor pussy and glides against your g-spot. He can hardly hear your skin slapping against one another over your pornographic moans. Each of his thrusts pushes another up your throat, and you get some of your own from him as you shakily wrap your arms around him; scratching his back.

"Shhh," he grins as his hushing does nothing to slow the lewd flow of your moans. "Mhmm~ So good, doll- like you were made to take me. Don't you agree?" You nod into his chest furiously fast, grounding yourself with your nails in his back.

"Hm? My little pretty baby likes getting her pussy pounded?" You clench around him tightly again, his words going straight to your cunt. He pulls your head back to look down at you, slowing his thrusts; but they're still just as harsh. Snapping into you hard enough to knock the wind from your burning lungs. "You like it when I fuck your brains out?"

"Uh-huh!" You whine, your piteous voice wracked with pleasured sobs. He leans down and licks up a stripe on your cheek, moaning deeply as the saltiness of your tears meets his tongue. You slap at his back as his hips still, begging him to keep going even though you're a trembling mess.

"Uh-huh," he mimics you, "use your words, baby." He smiles darkly as he leans to lick at your other cheek as well.

"I li- I like it," you sniffle, trying to grind your hips under his.

"You like what? C'mon, doll, tell me exactly what's got your cunt soaking wet~"

His soft teasing has you pouting, crying fat tears that he licks right up. "When- ahhh," you whimper, "please... I love it when you pound me~ You feel s'good, Yunie."

His heart skips a beat. Then, another. Then, he's back to trying to fuck your soul out of your body and claim it as his own. You don't even register that you've given him a new nickname in your fucked out bliss, it came so naturally while praising him.

"F-uck," he stutters, his hands all over you before they grip your legs and pull them up over his shoulders, making you groan quietly at the stretch in your muscles as he folds you in half underneath him. But the discomfort is quickly aided by the fact that he's prodding your g-spot as he starts slamming into you again and making you see stars. "Say it again. Call me Yunie."

His tone leaves no room for argument, and you don't have any anyways. "Yunie!" You sob out, grabbing at anything you can reach to steady yourself. One of your hands lands back in his hair, the other reaching and grabbing the armrest.

"M- ah, ah!" Your eyes screw shut tightly, shaking your head as you squeak in a single quick breath, "Yunie, please! Daddy!" His entire body is tingling. He can't tear his eyes away from you for even a split second — he curses himself for even having to blink.

He cups your face roughly, keeping your legs folded up and squishing them to you with his torso, "look at me when I fuck you." His voice waivers slightly as he approaches his peak, plunging into you deep and slow and hard as he locks his eyes with yours; your hips ache from the force of his slamming into you and fucking you into the couch. "Whose girl are you?" He hums as he wipes some of your tears, reveling your fucked out expression.

"M'your girl!"

"You are~" He coos, his cock painful hard and begging for release but he wants more. "My pretty girl. All mine. If anyone else even thinks about touching you, I will fucking gut them."

You gasp sharply, gushing around him and shouting his name as you cum unexpectedly. His words, his unhinged possessiveness reaching an all time high as he ruins you has your head rolling dizzily in his hands, feeling like it's filled with nothing but cotton candy. "Y- P- please, Daddy..." You stutter and snivel, wrapping your arms around him tightly as your entire body shakes.

"Mhm~?" He moans in response, not even trusting his voice anymore as your overworked walls pulse around him; letting him feel your heartbeat. He wraps his arms around your head, cradling you to his chest softly again as he ruts into you roughly.

"Cum," you whimper, officially toeing the line between pleasure and pain with the amount of overstimulation he's putting you through. "Pr- pretty please? Cum inside of me-"

You yell in shock as he suddenly sits up and drags you with him, not an ounce of hesitation in him as he rolls off the couch and lands on his back — immediately thrusting up into you. "F-fuck! What the f — oh, shit~" You only have yourself together enough to chastise him for half a moment before your brain catches up to the new position and realize how he's deeper.

"You want my cum? Huh? Fucking take it then~" He grins up at you wildly, one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, keeping you bent over him while he plows into you from below. Pressing your forehead against his.

The millisecond that one of your hot, overstimulated tears falls and lands on his cheek; he cums. And he cums hard. Letting out a guttural moan and letting his jaw fall open as he pumps all of his release into you. Keeping you still on top of him with a tight grip as he wraps his arms around you.

"Fuuuck~" He pants as his hips finally still, his brain flooded with dopamine as he cradles you. "How the hell a-are you so damn perfect?" His warm hands softly rub your trembling back, a dopey smile on his lips as you sniffle and press your face into his neck. "Hey," he lifts your head softly, "don't hide, baby."

You look down at him with eyes full of stars and hope and tears. "Yunie..."

He wipes your puffy eyes with a tenderness that he didn't even know he had in him. "Yeah, princess?"

"Will you hold me for a while?"

"Of course I will."

ꕥ

The floor of Yunho's office is shockingly comfortable, but maybe that's because you're mostly laid on top of him.

You're on your side, snuggling into his as he lays on his back; menthol cigarette between his fingers in one hand and the other arm wrapped around your shoulder. He switched brands when you kept complaining about the smell. The menthol was cooling, calming. You didn't mind it nearly as much.

You're laid with your leg over his hips, tracing patterns on his chest as you watch the smoke billow into the air. The silence is comfortable. It feels safe. You feel safe.

Of all the places in the world, you feel the most content you've ever been right here. Body sore and eyes dry from the way you exhausted all of your tears, laid on the shag carpet of The Jokers office with his cum wiped off your inner thighs with his silk vest.

He hums of soft melody between puffs of his cigarette, copying the patterns you make on his chest back onto your shoulder to tell you that he's paying attention to you even as you're both quiet. You close your eyes, moaning softly as they rejoice in the well deserved break. "I like that song." You say softly, sighing blissfully before you hum; picking up where he leaves off.

He looks at you with a small smile, reaching up to the table to put his cigarette out before rubbing your arm that's draped over his torso. "Maybe tonight, I'll call ya' after my blood is drowning in alcohol, mm-mm," he whispers the song as he laces your fingers together.

He can't believe he's finally got you all to himself. He doesn't remember a time when he's been this happy in the presence of another person. "All I want, is the taste that your lips allow..."

"My- my, give me love," you giggle before peeking your eyes open and looking up at him, "who'd have thought that you like love songs, Mister J?"

"What? I have taste," he shrugs playfully, giving you a smile as he rubs up and down your back. "Aren't you getting cold, princess?"

"Mmh, a little, but I'm not ready to leave you yet. Is- is that okay?"

"Hm? You don't have to leave," he reassures you softly, planting a kiss to your head, "you can get dressed and stay, baby."

"Thank you, Yunie."

It was almost a mission to get off the floor, even with Yunho doing most of the work for you. He still had your panties in his pocket, and he wasn't giving them over. You're thankful you still keep your pajamas in your bag out of habit, because they're much more comfortable than your day clothes would have been in your fragile state.

He helps you into them, giving you another tender kiss to your head and pinching your cheek with an affectionate smile before you slap his hand away. "Couldn't help myself~" He laughs, finally zipping his slacks up before kicking up his shirt off the floor and catching it. "You feel okay?" He, in all honesty, has no idea what he's doing.

The only experience he has is a good handful of one night stands. He's never been with someone he actually wanted to keep around and therefore; doesn't know how to go about making you comfortable enough to do so.

"I'm more than okay." But you don't notice it. Because all of the experience you have is through your job — your ex-job. You were used to getting the job done and going on your way, taking care of yourself with the help of Hongjoong; who would bandage any bruises while telling you how proud he was. It made you cry a great handful of times. Like now.

"Princess," Yunho pouts, immediately kneeling on the floor infront of you and cupping your hands gently. He thinks you're so pretty when you cry — but only when he's the cause. "What's- what's wrong? What can I do?"

"I d- I don't know." You look down, holding his hands tightly, "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me-"

"Yes, you do." He can see it. He can tell. He can tell so much by your eyes, they give everything away. "You can tell me."

He gives you the time you need to breathe, and you're thankful for the moment to gather your thoughts. "I... hated my job. Not- not the actual doing it. But after, and the people..." He rubs his thumbs over your hands, his eyes soft and urging. "People who just got up and left. I wanted to strangle them. Leaving me alone after I did everything in my power to please them."

He waits for a moment to be sure you're done speaking before he does. "You don't have to go back. Ever. And I will never leave you, I promise you now. I will do anything you want." He cups your cheeks gently and makes you meet his gaze, intense as ever. "I will take care of you. In any and every way you need me to."

You swallow your tears, leaning into his touch, "but why?"

"Because I want to. I want to take care of you. I want to watch you thrive. I love the fire in your eyes, it makes me crazy." He doesn't think he's ever been so straightforward with anyone like this before. He might have felt vulnerable exposing his true feelings if you were anyone else. "You're mine now, right?" You nod into his hands, cradled like a fine china doll. "I take care of what's mine. So tell me; what will make you happy? What will set you free from that place?"

You think for a long moment, eyes drifting away from him. "Do you remember... when you asked if I ever fantasize about getting revenge on people who have wronged me?"

"Mhm?" You had said no, but you had hesitated. And he had noticed.

"I lied. I do think about it. I think about it a lot. There's a man..."

"And?"

"I want him to suffer like I have."

"Who?" He has zero hesitation. If you want someone gone, he'll make sure they can never show their face in Gotham again. If you want someone to suffer, he'll make them beg for death to just come already.

"Earnest Holmes." Your lip trembles. "He's the reason I was working at The Riddle Room."

Oh, he's going to die slow. That's what Yunho decides. In a split second, he's coming up with a million different ways to torture the man. He doesn't press you for the reasoning. All he needs to know is that you want him to hurt like you do.

"Give me two days, baby. And you will have his heart in a gift basket."

ꕥ

[ofbatsandballads]

as the heavens set fire

jason todd x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut MDNI, virgin!Jason and virgin!reader, grinding, thigh riding, non-penetrative fingering, implications of Jason being demisexual.

a/n: I wrote this ages ago and just now found it in my drafts. I love the idea that in between being brought back from the dead and his revenge plot and dealing with the trauma of both that Jay never had the time to find his hopeless romantic love for the ages. I also hc him as demisexual, so both of these things combined make him a virgin in my head. Also inspired by @sanguineterrain and @sunnie-angel and their magnificent writings of virgin!jason. This is directly related to my other two fics, and it’s all quickly becoming a little universe that I’m affectionately labeling as “Jason gets the girl”. so yes, please enjoy some very soft, sweet smut of two blushing virgins!

divider credit: saradika

Jason Todd has never felt desire before. Not really. Sure, he had his fair share of kisses and frenzied touches when he first came back to Gotham, but it had never gone farther than that. Not with Rose, not with Artemis. Any time it started to go further, a harsh flinch and the recoil of his body would cut off any hope of more. And before? In his first life? He was a child, and then his teenage years were absolutely consumed with Robin. So, yeah, Jason was a little inexperienced. A virgin, if you wanted to get definitive about things. At first he thought maybe he couldn’t feel that way at all. The idea of letting someone he doesn’t trust touch him like that is unfathomable. And the idea of trusting someone enough to allow them access to his body isn’t even a thought in his mind. So all of his pleasure comes from harsh, slick strokes just to get the job done and the vague notions of the classic romance novels he loves so much.

Until now. Until you. It’s been two months since he came to you bruised and beaten worse than he’d ever been. Two months since you had tended to him, bathed him, clothed him, told him you loved him. Two months since he’d finally steeled his nerve and kissed you as both thanks and confession. You’ve been delicately together ever since. He’s dropped by your apartment every night, and he’s kissed you on more of those nights than he hasn’t. He’s felt an unfamiliar warmth stir in his belly on most of those occasions but he’s kept it in check. Well, he’s kept it in check until he gets home and throws himself into the shower, fist tight around his cock as he thinks of your sweet face smiling at him, your pretty mouth telling him you love him. But he’s got impeccable self control around you. Or he thought he did.

Tonight he dropped in injured for the first time in a while. One of Riddler’s goons had smashed a bottle against his forehead, the shattered glass leaving him with a cut and a blossoming headache. Jason is starting to regret his style change from helmet to domino mask and muzzle. His first instinct was to come to you. He figured it would be the same old song and dance you two had done for over a year now, except maybe with some kisses included. It fails to be the same song and dance the second he sees you in the tiny satin pajama shorts and cropped spaghetti strap pajama top. The set is a deep wine red color that looks so pretty against your skin. His head starts to feel a little fuzzy, but he thinks maybe that’s from the hit. He lets himself in through your window, loud and obvious so as not to startle you.

And, oh, you’re so kind to him. Always so kind to him. You guide him to your sofa and push him down onto the soft cushions (and his mind goes fuzzier). You kneel next to him, leaning slightly into his body while trying to reach the jagged cut on his head. But all Jason can see is red, red, red against your plush exposed skin. A groan of frustration pulls him from his trance.

“I can’t reach you like this, Jay,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“Can I sit on your lap?” you ask, and your face has so much concern on it.

Jason ceases to think. Maybe the hit has concussed him, made him stupid. He doesn’t even think he heard you right. But as you go to apologize for suggesting it, for pushing him into uncomfortable territory, he knows he did hear you correctly. And somehow your concern over his boundaries just makes his body burn hotter. He’d laid out ground rules when you two started this. He wasn’t familiar with physical contact without the intention to cause harm, so he needed time to adjust. And you’ve so diligently allowed him that time. You always ask if it’s okay to hold his hand, to rest against him, to kiss him. Even now you’re asking if he’s okay with you getting closer. He can’t bring himself to tell you just how much closer he wants you. So he simply raises his hand to cut off your apologies and nods.

The warm weight of you on his lap is heavenly. He’s keyed up, acutely aware of your body resting atop his. He tries to reign in his thoughts. The sensitivity of his body, however, can’t be controlled. You lean forward to apply the dermabond to his cut and he has to grip the sofa cushions as he feels your body press flush against his. He hopes you think it’s from the pain. You let out a soft sigh as you soothingly stroke his hair while the surgical glue cures.

“I’m so sorry, Jason. You’re doing so well, angel,” you coo at him.

Jason forces a harsh exhale through his nose. You’re killing him. He’s half hard in his pants now and the prospect of hiding his desire behind pain is dwindling by the second. He’s taking controlled breaths, willing himself to just get through this so he can go home and take care of his growing problem. But then a series of things all happen at once: you shift in his lap as you lean back to grab bandages, your eyes go wide as you feel him against you, and Jason whimpers at the feeling of you accidentally grinding on him.

His seafoam eyes shoot open, face red as his muzzle.

“S-sorry, ‘m sorry. You’re just really warm and so nice to me and I didn’t mean to–” Jason stutters, tripping over his own tongue.

He’s embarrassed. Humiliated even. One, he got hard when you were just trying to fix his head wound. Two, he’s been reduced to a bumbling fucking idiot over it. He’s about to pick you up off of him and go before he has to see the disgust on your face. But then he feels the press of your hands on his chest pushing him back into your sofa. He could easily stop you, but you’re looking at him in a way you never have before and Jason feels himself crumbling like a house of cards.

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize for wanting anything, not with me,” you tell him, hands back in his hair.

“How do you want to go about this?” you ask him gently.

Jason should say he wants to stop. Should tell you to get off him so he can cool down and you can pass the remainder of your time together peacefully. Maybe he should even tell you he wants to leave, that he’ll see you tomorrow. But your hands are playing with his hair so softly and your body is so warm and you’re looking at him like he’s something worth looking at.

“Kiss me,” he begs. “Please.”

So you do. You slot your soft lips against his and kiss him with everything you’re worth. Jason moans into it, the sound falling from his mouth to yours. He wraps both of his strong arms around you, pulling you tight against his body. He wrestles all of his self control to not rut up into you when doing so drags your hips against his. He’s licking at your plush bottom lip before he can stop himself and he groans when you immediately open your mouth for him. The slick slide of your tongues clashing makes you sigh against him. Your fingers tighten in his hair and your hips grind down of their own accord, eliciting whines from both of you.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Jay,” you gasp as you pull back from him.

“No. You got nothin’ to be sorry for. It’s fine. It’s good,” he reassures you.

Just in case you don’t believe him, he brings his hands to your hips and squeezes as he finds the confidence to rock up into you. You moan as your eyes flutter shut and Jason swears this may be the closest to heaven he’s ever gotten.

“I’ve never–” you choke on your own gasp as he rocks his hips at a steady pace against you. “Never done anything like this before.”

“Me either,” Jason pants through strained inhales.

“I want this. I want you. Can we…can we keep doing this?” you ask against his mouth as you start to follow his rhythm.

Any worries or doubts that Jason had about your willingness in this fly out the window. He’s rambling mindlessly in response. Yes, yes, we can keep doing this, that sounds perfect, please don’t stop. His grip is hard on your hips, bunching the waistband of your shorts and pulling them tighter against you. The moan you let out fucking levels him. He never thought it could be this good. It seems to happen all too soon, that white hot coil curling in his belly. He’s just so sensitive and you feel so good grinding on his covered cock. You’re so kind to him and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. He babbles it like a broken record as he cums harder than he ever has in his life, soaking his boxers and leaving his tactical pants damp.

He’s whimpering from overstimulation at the hot, wet drag of fabric against his sensitive tip as your hips slow to a stop. He can feel tears of relief and humiliation pooling in the corners of his eyes. He came fast. Embarrassingly fast from such little stimulation. And he may be a virgin but he damn well knows women’s anatomy, so he knows you haven’t gotten off yet. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and you can feel the hot tears that fall from his pretty seafoam eyes.

“Oh, Jason, you did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you,” you breathe out.

Jason lets out a choked noise. You’re proud of him. Proud of him for cumming in his pants like a horny teenager. But there’s such sincerity to your voice that even his self loathing can’t overpower it. He feels your praise in his chest, warm and bright like a healing light. He wants to make you proud. It’s a feeling he hasn’t felt in so long–the desire for someone else to be happy because of him, proud because of him. It’s what gives him the nerve to manhandle you onto one of his muscular thighs. He starts guiding your hips back and forth, smiles when your head tips back and you grip his shoulders.

“Jay, ah, angel, we can stop,” you protest weakly.

He shakes his head fiercely. There’s a determined glint in his green eyes that leaves no room for argument.

“Keep goin’. I want you—need you to feel good too,” he insists.

You nod your head and let your body fall against his. He guides your hips over his thigh again and again and again. Each pass rewards him with little mewls and sighs that Jason thinks he could get addicted to. Your hands are gripping his biceps hard, your face buried in the crook of his neck. He notices you getting antsy, whinier than before and a lightbulb clicks on above his head.

“Wanna take these off?” he asks you, tugging at the waistband of your pretty red shorts.

You mutter a weak uh huh and Jason’s standing you up to drag the slippery satin down your legs. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your black panties. They sit high just above your hip bones and the thin mesh leaves very little to the imagination. He can’t take his eyes off you as he pulls you back down on his thigh. He angles your hips forward and the high pitched moan that spills from your mouth assures him that he’s positioned you just right to grind your clit against him.

“There we go. Just like that, doll,” Jason says as you start to rock your hips at your own pace.

“Oh God, Jason,” you keen, the pet name going straight to your cunt.

Jason catalogs the knowledge of just how much you like him calling you doll. If his brain weren’t so hazy and fucked out, he might be embarrassed by just how much he likes calling you doll. But he can’t be bothered to care, not when you look so pretty riding his thigh.

“More. I want more, angel,” you whine, grabbing at his hand and slowly guiding it up your thigh.

You don’t push him further than the waistband of your panties. Even in your own desperate pursuit of pleasure, you’re still worried about his boundaries. Jason’s never wanted anything in his life as much as he wants to make you cum for him. He dips his hand under the black mesh, fingers brushing against soft hair before landing home on your cunt.

And, fuck, you’re so wet it makes him dizzy. The idea that he’s caused this, that all of this is for him? It doesn’t compute in his brain. It goes against everything he’s ever thought about himself. But the proof is slick and warm on his fingertips. He can be a source of pleasure, of desire, of something good. So he drags his fingers up and down your slit, reveling in the high pitched keens you let out. When he starts to draw circles around your clit, he’s rewarded with you calling his name in the prettiest whimper he could possibly imagine.

“‘S this good? Tell me what you need,” he rasps out, looking for your reassurance, your approval.

You frantically nod your head, quiet whines slipping from your mouth.

“Mmmf, it’s so good, Jay. Please don’t stop,” you moan.

Jason, ever the quick learner, does just as you ask. He keeps rubbing your clit with the exact pace and direction that has you crying out above him. Every now and then he’ll dip his fingers down to collect more of the slick that drips from you, bring it back up to your aching clit and shudder at the noises you make from the stimulation. He’s taking in your body language, studying you like you’re the finest piece of art he’s ever laid his eyes on. Your hips start to jerk erratically under his free hand and your moans turn to breathy whimpers, and he knows before you even tell him.

“Jason–ah–s’too much. I can’t I can’t I can’t,” you babble.

“Don’t fight it, sweetheart. Just let go f’me. I’m right here with you,” he encourages you gently.

And maybe it’s how sweet he’s being, or maybe it’s the way his free hand starts comfortingly stroking along your spine, or most likely it’s the unrelenting swirls he’s making on your swollen clit, but you’re tumbling over the edge before you even realize what’s happening. It’s burning, white hot and alive. It’s new and it’s consuming and it’s all Jason. You don’t think you’ll be able to live without him after this. You know you won’t want to.

You’re both breathing heavily as you come down, your body limp against his. All that surrounds you is each other. Touch, scent, sight–only the two of you exist in the warmth of the afterglow.

“I love you,” you whisper, face buried in his neck.

He holds you tight, nuzzles into your mussed up hair.

“I love you too.”

Jason realizes that’s all that was missing. Love. That love and want are inextricably tied up for him, that the latter can’t exist without the former. Because he loves you, and for the first time ever, he knows what that aching hunger feels like, knows what it’s like to have fire lick across his veins. And he’s so grateful to you, so grateful for yet another gift you’ve given him. Kindness, tenderness, love, desire. He’d known none of it before you dragged him through your window. And maybe he doesn’t really believe in God anymore, but he’s positive that you’re nothing short of a miracle he’ll spend the rest of his life trying to deserve.