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mimicmimikyuwrites · 11 months ago

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The Riddler (Edward Nashton) Dating Headcanons

Ask: "shakes ur hand. hope it's not too much, but could i req some headcanons on what'd it'd be like to date the riddler/edward nashton? i dont mind SFW or NSFW! :3"

Contents/Possible Warnings: Angst, Edward is slightly a little creep, fluff, GN!Reader/AMAB and AFAB inclusive, smut warnings in labeled section, SMUT, MDNI

Other Notes: I did both SFW and NSFW, but they're separated into labeled sections in case anybody wants to only read one or the other. I'm happy to be writing for Eddie again! Thank you, Anon. 💚

SFW Headcanons:

You're most likely to meet him somewhere he frequents heavily, such as his workplace or his favorite diner. You're probably his coworker in some way or someone who works/is a regular at the diner. He's not very social, so it'll take him a while before he greets you in any way. Expect a lot of glances or small smiles from him before he feels confident enough to strike up a conversation with you.

Alternatively, you could even be a follower of his. This would change the meeting dynamic a lot, as he'd be more confident in talking to you; he does have ways of knowing things about you if you attend his streams (you should probably invest in better security for your computer, y'know.)

Edward has never had any sort of long-term or serious/semi-serious relationship before you, which is something he's never been proud of. His relationships before you were short-lived and when he was much younger, and they typically came to be because someone pitied him or needed to use him for something. They were hardly really even relationships.

He doesn't form bonds easily with others on account of never really being given the chance, so his relationship with you cycles between him being distant and scared to interact with you out of fear of rejection or abandonment, all the way to him being very clingy and affectionate when he realizes you're not leaving.

Even when he's deep into his fears regarding rejection, he's still very loving. Not a day goes by without him telling you how much he appreciates and loves you. You're the first person in his eyes to truly give him a chance, and he'll never let that go.

Similar to how he sees Batman before meeting him face-to-face in Arkham, Edward thinks you're the only good thing in the city. You are his angel in every sense of the word, a beacon of light in his miserable life.

Going back to the topic of affection, he starts very awkwardly. He's touch-starved in every single way. He's rarely been hugged, kissed, cuddled, etc. He craves affection, but it scares him at first, because he's afraid of fucking it up and pushing you away.

His first kiss with you is something you initiate, and he freezes up when your lips touch his. With his heart pounding in his chest from pure adrenaline, he melts into it, letting out a desperate whine against your lips. He is pathetic in an endearing way.

You'll have to teach him how to kiss, but he's a quick, eager learner. Soon after, kisses will become a primary form of affection for him (giving and receiving).

He's the first one to say "I love you," albeit accidentally. It had slipped out one night while you were on a date, and while he meant it he worried it was too soon, or that he had even might've mistaken your relationship for something more serious than you had seen it.

You had to reassure him that everything was alright and that you did share his feelings. "I love you, Eddie." You had told him.

He had never heard those words before, and they felt exhilarating to hear. He almost started crying, but held it back because you were both in the middle of a restaurant and he didn't want to embarrass you. Once you two get home he hugs you tightly, crying into your shoulder as he does. He's just so happy.

Jumping to discuss his inevitable change into the Riddler, he's very secretive about it in the beginning. It's for three main reasons: he doesn't want to jeopardize his plans and work, he doesn't want to scare you, and lastly, he doesn't want to lose you.

You found out on your own, discovering his whole Riddler outfit hidden carefully in a mostly unused storage closet in your shared apartment. You do eventually accept him and what he's doing to some extent, but his hiding it from you does cause tension and a newfound distrust in your relationship.

Once things settle he's eager to show you off to his followers. He covers what features need to be covered, of course. With a mask of your own covering your face, he gleefully introduces you to his watchers, a myriad of giggles leaving him as he does.

You're met with a positive reception by his chat, with many asking to see you in future streams. You become a feature of his tamer ones, usually being in the background or chiming in occasionally.

Weirdly, his crazed giggles and little riddles are nice to hear. They mean he's happy, and that's what you want for him. He's lived a horrible, lonely life and you think he deserves something good for a change.

All in all, Edward is an awkward, but sweet man to be with. Even when he's dangerous and out for blood when donned in his Riddler persona, he'd still never hurt you. He's in love for the first time in his life, and every part of him cherishes you. Whether he's your Eddie or the infamous Riddler, a lot of love is to be expected from him. He'd happily kill for you, no questions asked.

Bonus: He gives you a lot of cards filled with cheesy, romantic riddles. "What flower is kissable? Tulips." Or "What did the paper clip say to the magnet? I find you very attractive!" The more it borders on being funnily cringe-worthy, the better it is to him.

NSFW Headcanons (Contains: Oral sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, sex on a live stream, semi-clothed sex, questionable use of duct tape):

He fucks like he's in heat. The first time you have sex with him he's rutting into you, trying to get as much of you as possible. He's whimpering, moaning, and whining. He's loud, too. He tries to speak, to let you know how fucking good it feels and how much he loves you, but he's unable to. He's overwhelmed by it all, but it feels too amazing for him to stop

He doesn't last long during your first time, spilling into you with barely a warning, a long whine of your name leaving his mouth as he cums. When he's done he has a dopey smile on his face, green eyes glazed over.

He cuddles after sex every single time. He may like feeling used during the act itself sometimes, but afterward, he wants to feel loved. Snuggle with him, give him little kisses, and clean up with him and he's good to go. Sex is very intimate for him, especially when he's being submissive to you during the earlier parts of your relationship.

This man loves to give oral. He's sloppy and makes a mess of you while he does it, but he is eager to please. He sucks dick/eats pussy like it's his calling and his life depends on it. Please tug on his hair while he's on his knees for you, he loves it.

Edward may give you control, but the Riddler is a different story. The mask gives him confidence and makes him feel fully in control. He feels unstoppable. He'll be a lot rougher and degrading, often demanding you beg for him to touch you. Even so, he's still your Eddie under that mask, and Eddie fucks like he's desperate.

If you're up for it, the Riddler will have sex with you on his stream, claiming it's a little treat for his loyal followers. It gets him off knowing that even though you're being viewed by hundreds all across Gotham City, you're still his and he's the only one touching you. He likes to show off what's his.

He's a fan of taking Polaroids of you during the aftermath of your sessions. Some of his favorites have you tied up with his cum in or on you.

Speaking of tying you up, he likes to use duct tape on your wrists for some extra, kinky control over you.

Edward Nashton is a horny, desperate little freak.

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miissgraysondrake · 9 months ago

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Edward: *kind of breathy* Are you tired?? Do your feet hurt???? I-I can give you a massage-

(Y/n): what?

Edward: *smiling, with his eyes kinda glossy* F-From walking so much! In my head! I hear your itty-bitty footsteps go around in my brain! The click clack of your heels!!! It's my preferred way to mesure time...by missing you *puppy eyes and smile*

(Y/n): *Speechless, kind of blushing too*

Joker: Damn!! MAKE WAY FOR THE RIZZLER, EVERYBODY!

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adhdnursegoat · 3 months ago

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In the Event of a Black Out

Word count: 6.3K

Content Warning: minors dni, explicit sexual content, PWP, accidental intimacy, touch starved Edward, vulnerability during sex

Pairing: Edward Nigma X gender neutral reader (let me know if i missed anything)

Setting: Arkham Knight

“What did you do?!”

“I didn’t do shit! What did you do?”

“I would not do anything this stupid.”

“Oh, right, cause you don’t make mistakes.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Would you just shut up and help me? I can’t see!”

“Well, unfortunately, the one thing I have been unable to do is to evolve the ability of night vision… yet.”

“Can you not just answer a simple question without being a smartass?”

“Can you not be an annoying twit and help yourself?”

“Jesus Christ—fine! Don’t help. I’ll just flounder around until I run into a project and break something.”

You could practically see the scowl on his face, even in pitch black. “...Where are you?”

“Over here.”

“That is not descriptive.”

“Follow my voice.”

He sighed, and then you heard the hesitant sound of footsteps. Then you heard a less-than-ideal scraping crash. “Fuck!” Better him than you—you’d never hear the end of breaking one of his precious Riddlerbots.

“Marco!”

“No!”

“You’re no fun.”

“What about this situation screams fun to you?”

“It’s fun because we are now on equal footing.” You could hear the scuff of his boots closer, so you reached out in front of you, absolutely unable to see your hands in front of your face.

“We are nothing of the sort. I assure you the blackout neither stole my IQ nor blessed you with more.”

“Ass.”

“Brat.”

Finally, your hand pressed, nearly shoved into something soft, solid, and warm. You reached further, drifting up higher to grip and grasp about, trying to sense your environment. You grabbed and touched what felt like a nose and cheek.

“Hey!” Edward quickly snapped up to grab your wrist and jerk it away. “Watch what you’re grabbing.”

“I can’t watch anything.”

“Don’t be smart.”

“Said the smart one.”

Edward’s grip on your wrist tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to ground you. There was a low growl behind it, that guttural sort of warning he saved for when he was two seconds from short-circuiting.

“Just—be careful.” His voice was closer than expected, brushing against your cheek like a whisper turned threat. You weren’t sure if it was the dark playing tricks or if he’d leaned in.

“I’m always careful,” you said flatly, rolling your eyes—pointlessly, since he couldn’t see it.

“Right,” he muttered, dry as dust and just as warm. Disbelieving. Definitely scowling. You could hear it in the angle of his voice, the tension coiled tight in the silence that followed. “Come on.”

He kept hold of your wrist, his fingers still curled firm around it—less of a guide, more of a leash, like he didn’t trust you not to break something or trip a secondary security system just by existing.

You felt him turn, the shift of air as his body pivoted. The slight tug on your arm followed.

“Where?”

“To find the breaker box,” he replied over his shoulder, like it should’ve been obvious. His steps were careful but brisk, the sound of his boots brushing the floor just ahead of you in the dark. “Need to find something to orient to—wall, doorway, anything.”

You followed, letting him lead, but your free hand lifted almost on instinct—searching for something more solid than the clammy air and your own stumbling steps. You found the back of his shirt and gripped it, fingers curling tight into the fabric like he was the only fixed point in this pitch-black labyrinth of wires, half-assembled death traps, and rising tension.

He jolted at the touch. Barely. A sharp inhale. A twitch in his back. But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t comment.

Edward moved again, deliberate and slow. You stayed close—so close you could feel the soft brush of air every time he shifted, the residual heat radiating off him in the dark.

You were just thinking that if he stopped too fast, you’d crash right into him—

Then he did. Dead halt. Your chest collided with his back, your momentum tangled with his legs.

The floor wasn’t under you anymore.

There was a chaotic scuffle of limbs, a clatter of boots, a muffled curse. The both of you hit the ground in a graceless, jumbled heap. The impact knocked the breath out of your lungs. Something sharp jabbed your hip. Something else—a knee? An elbow? Possibly pride—dug into your ribs.

And Edward? Edward groaned beneath you.

“Oh, for the love of— get off,” he barked, voice muffled, pinned somewhere beneath your shoulder. “You weigh a thousand pounds.”

“I do not!” you gasped, trying to push yourself up—only to realize that your arm was stuck between his chest and the floor, and your leg was looped awkwardly around something metal. A pipe? A bot limb? Maybe Edward’s endless collection of industrial cables.

You flailed. He groaned again, louder this time.

“You’re wallowing,” he hissed.

“Well, move, then!”

“I can’t move! You’re the one on top—get your elbow out of my liver!”

“I would if I could! I think I’m—ugh, I think I’m caught on something.”

A beat of heavy silence. Then an exhale, sharp and withering.

“Of course you are,” Edward muttered. “You know what? Fine. Stay there. Rot in the tangle you’ve created.”

“Oh my god—do something, Nigma.”

A pause. Then you felt him shift underneath you—slowly, resentfully. His hand slid along the floor until it found your thigh, then moved upward with practiced, clinical focus.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

His fingers skimmed the side of your leg, over your hip, then hesitated as they found the edge of something taut—a twisted strap or caught hem. You couldn’t see, but you could feel every inch of his touch through the fabric, every slight adjustment, every press of his palm as he followed the length of the snare.

You went still.

Completely, breathlessly still.

Because his hand didn’t stop at your hip. It kept going—slow, deliberate, dragging down the curve of your thigh like he wasn’t fully aware of what he was doing. Like he was searching for something and forgot to stop when he found it.

Then it slipped inward.

His fingers curled gently around the tender inside of your leg, resting there, motionless.

Heat pooled low in your belly.

Neither of you moved.

The dark pulsed around you like a second skin, pressing in on all sides, every sound sharp and loud in the silence. You could hear his breath catch. Could feel the tension coiled beneath your body, his hand still cradled against your thigh, not retreating.

"Umm… is that… better?"

His voice was quieter now. Rougher. A thread of something unfamiliar wound through it—like he wasn’t sure if he meant the question, or just needed to say something.

You didn’t answer. Not right away. Didn’t trust your voice. Didn’t trust your body.

So you shifted. Carefully. Slowly.

You meant to sit up. To put distance back where it belonged. But the space was tight, and your leg was still caught between his. When you pushed upward, your hips settled on one of his thighs, straddling it instinctively for balance. Your hands braced on his lower stomach. That was a mistake.

Edward’s muscles jumped beneath your palms. Sharp inhale.

You both froze again—idiots caught in your own trap.

Finally, you spoke quietly, “You know… this is a terrible way to fix a power outage.”

You felt him exhale through his nose. Not quite a laugh. Not quite a sigh.

“Well, excuse me for attempting to assist,” he muttered. “Next time, I’ll let you wander around and trip into the elevator shaft.”

“I tripped over your bot.”

“I tripped over your clumsiness.”

That earned a quiet scoff. Your fingers flexed slightly against his abdomen. The fabric was soft. His body, under it, was not.

He shifted to sit up. At least, you thought he meant to sit up. But the movement pulled you in closer. His thigh pressed snug between yours, and suddenly his chest was nearly against yours, his breath warm against your face. Close. Too close.

The words on your tongue scattered like loose screws.

You didn’t speak. Neither did he.

There was no quip. No snarl. No breathless complaint or cutting remark. Just this—this moment suspended in a blackout, where the heat wasn’t from faulty wiring but from something pulsing and slow and alive between your hips and his.

His hands were at your waist. You weren’t sure when that happened. You weren’t sure if he knew either. You felt him breathe—felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath your own, the minute tremor in his fingers where they gripped your sides like he’d only just realized he was holding on.

Still… Edward didn’t pull away.

You weren’t sure who moved first—if it was you leaning in for balance or him shifting to escape the awkwardness—but the result was the same. You ended up straddling his waist, knees braced on either side of him, your hands resting against the firm plane of his lower stomach. His breath hitched at the contact, and your fingers twitched in response, pressing more fully against him without meaning to. The darkness swallowed everything but sensation: the fabric of his shirt wrinkling beneath your palm, the heat of him bleeding through it, the unmistakable tension rippling beneath his skin.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did you. There were no quips, no insults, no snide remarks to fill the space—just breathing, shallow and uneven, caught somewhere between restraint and curiosity. His hand, still curled around your side, began to move with the kind of slowness that made it obvious he was second-guessing every inch. His palm slid from your waist to your lower back, fingers ghosting up along your spine as if tracing the ridges of some ancient secret. He stopped just beneath your shoulder blades, but didn’t pull away. If anything, his grip tightened slightly, as though he needed the anchor just as much as you did.

The heat between your bodies was impossible to ignore. Your hips were pressed against his, and every breath made your chest rise against his. Edward’s free hand had planted itself against the floor beside him, but you could feel the way it tensed—like he wasn’t sure whether to push himself up or stay exactly where he was. When he finally started to shift, you felt it first in the subtle lift of his torso, the slight withdrawal of him from beneath you, the way his breath broke against your cheek like a breeze trying to pull back from the storm.

And then—he began to pull away.

You moved before you thought. Your hand shot out, catching his wrist.

“Wait…”

It came out softer than you intended, but no less raw. A single word, stripped of its armor, small and human and trembling.

He froze. Mid-motion. Mid-exit. His body half-curled beneath you, one elbow braced, ready to shift away—but your hand wrapped around his wrist and held him there, tethered by something far more delicate than force. Not yet. Not like this. Not when the space between you was still viscous.

Edward didn’t speak. Didn’t move. But you could feel him watching—or at least, facing you in the dark. His presence was unmistakable, a pressure in the air, a heat just beneath your skin. The room may have been shrouded in black, but there was no mistaking him. You could’ve found him blind.

And you did.

With a tentative drift, your fingers eased from his wrist and began to creep upward, cautious at first, like you were crossing into sacred ground. You didn’t rush. Couldn’t. Each inch demanded attention. Your hand traced along the inside of his forearm, brushing over the coarse hairs and the grime of whatever work he’d been elbow-deep in before the power cut.

Higher, across the ridged tension of his bicep. You felt the shape of him there—lean and hard, the ever-present tautness of someone who never quite relaxed, never quite let go. Even still, even here, there was power waiting just beneath the surface. Coiled. Quiet. Unyielding.

Your palm followed the curve of his shoulder, pausing slightly as your fingers ghosted across the seam of muscle and bone. There was dust on him—grit clinging to his shirt, and probably beneath it. Your hand swept up further, seeking the sharp line of his collarbone, and when you found it—God—you let your thumb drag over it above his tanktop. It jutted just beneath his skin, elegant and severe, a perfect geometry of tension and restraint.

He still hadn’t moved. But you could feel him breathe. Not steady. Not calm. Shallow. Barely-there. Like the act of being touched was more than he’d bargained for.

You weren’t finished.

Your fingers skimmed up the side of his neck next, brushing over the tendons, the hollow of his throat where his swallow caught halfway down. His pulse was steady but elevated—a quiet rhythm bounding beneath the pads of your fingers like a secret he hadn’t meant to share. His skin was hot there, exposed, and you followed the blaze upward. You met the line of his jaw, the rasp of stubble prickling against your fingertips. And when your hand finally cupped his face—thumb brushing the edge of his cheekbone—he inhaled—sharp and sudden, a breath hitched in surprise as your palm settled against his face, cradling it.

Edward still didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

Everything you needed to know was there beneath your palm—tension wound tight, reverence fighting restraint, a quiet kind of hunger. Still, he let you touch him. Not like a man used to softness. But like someone who ached for it, belied by the subtle tilt of his head into your palm.

He exhaled, just beneath it, a sound: not a word, not a moan, but a sigh, quiet and shaken, like he didn’t know what to do with this kind of contact. The warmth of his breath wafted against your skin, and you could feel the heat rising beneath his skin, the stillness in his body. And when you leaned in, the distance vanished.

Your lips met his—carefully, uncertainly.

The kiss was nothing like a storm. It was soft. Fragile. The first brush of mouth to mouth tentative and reverent, like he was afraid it might break both of you open. There was no hunger, not yet. Just the dizzying stillness of the moment, the warmth of his breath across your skin, and the quiet quake of a man who didn’t know he could be wanted like this.

You stayed close, thighs still bracketing his waist, your balance forgotten somewhere back in the fall. When his hips shifted beneath you—barely a twitch, the ghost of motion—you adjusted instinctively. The press of your body aligned more snugly against his, not in invitation, but inevitability. It wasn’t overt. Wasn’t obscene. Just closeness. A firmer weight. A sharper breath. The hush between you trembling on a new frequency.

Edward made a sound against your mouth—low, involuntary. The kind of sound a man makes when something slips past the walls, when sensation outruns logic. But still, he didn’t move. His hands remained where they were—beneath you, beside you, nowhere they shouldn’t be. He didn’t pull you closer. Didn’t push you away. He just kissed you. Slowly. Carefully. Lips parting in small, reverent increments, learning your shape by feel, like each pass of his mouth over yours was a question he didn’t know how to ask. There was tension in him—always—but it had shifted. Less resistance. More surrender. He kissed you as if he didn’t know what would happen if he let it go further. And maybe didn’t care.

Your hand still cradled his face, thumb stroking gently along his cheekbone. And even in the dark, even with the faint hum of electricity still dead in the walls, you could feel how vulnerable this made him. Not the position. Not the kiss. The silence. The lack of mask. The absence of pretense.

And Edward—bitter, brilliant, impossible Edward—didn’t run.

Not yet.

When you finally pulled back, it wasn’t far. Just enough to breathe. Just enough to speak, if either of you dared. His breath was warm against your lips, shallow and quiet.. You swallowed. Let your thumb trace the sharp cut of his jaw.

“You’re… really not going to say anything?”

A pause. His voice was low, rough with the kind of restraint that wasn’t physical. “Do you want me to?”

You considered it. The silence was heavy again—but not cold. Not distant. It was the kind of quiet that wrapped around you like steam.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted softly. “I don’t think I want this to be clever.”

That made something in him twitch. A tiny breath of laughter. Bitter. Fond. “Then I’ll ruin it if I speak.”

“You won’t.”

You weren’t sure if he believed you. But he didn’t argue. And that silence was permission enough.

Not wanting to shatter whatever held so still between you, one of your hands drifted slowly down from his face to his chest, fingertips brushing over the collar of his open shirt, then flattening against the fabric of his tanktop. You felt the shape of him there—his ribs tight beneath your palms, the subtle tremble in his breath. And beneath all that, his heartbeat—wild, pounding, almost furious in its rhythm.

It wasn’t the beat of calm desire. It was something feral. Caged. Desperate. And that was the moment you realized: you could take this further. Right here. You had him—beneath you, under your hands, lips parted from that last kiss, body tense not with refusal but with restraint. He was saying nothing, but his body wasn’t still. His hips had shifted again, just enough that you were more keenly aware of the pressure where yours met. His jaw clenched under your touch.

He was open. He was wanting.

You leaned down, breath catching as you pressed your mouth to the corner of his again—slower this time, but not softer. Testing. Asking. And the moment he turned his head into it, meeting your kiss with equal force, it shifted. All of it.

Edward’s lips parted beneath yours, and the kiss turned sharp, breathless, teeth catching in the drag between mouths. It wasn’t gentle anymore. It was something pulled from the chest like a secret too long withheld. Something desperate. You gasped against him as his hips pushed upward into yours, the sudden press of friction making your spine arch. Still, he didn’t touch you with his hands—but his mouth spoke in movements. In the way he kissed you like he wanted to memorize every taste, every inhale, every sound you gave him.

Your fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, dragging it up, baring a strip of skin beneath your palm. His stomach was hot. Tense. You felt the twitch of muscle beneath your touch, felt his breath stutter as your hand slid lower.

Still no words. Just heat. Just breath. Just that storm blooming under your skin like something inevitable.

He broke the kiss first—not with retreat, but to catch his breath, forehead tipping to yours. You could feel the tremor in him, the war he was still waging with himself, even as his body betrayed him moment by moment.

You let your hand slide over his ribs, feeling every tense divot and line.

“You’re not stopping me,” you murmured.

A beat. Then, softly—harshly—he answered: “I can’t.”

The words left him like a confession. Rough, low, barely there. But you heard it. Felt it—in the way his breath hitched against your cheek, in the way his body arched beneath yours like he was no longer holding anything back. Not logic. Not resistance. Not fear. Just need.

It started slow—still restrained, still cautious. But when your lips found his again, when you rolled your hips just once, deliberately, against the pressure growing between you, that final thread snapped.

His hands moved. Fast.

They surged from the floor like they’d been yanked by gravity—one gripping your waist, the other sliding up your back and into your hair. His fingers threaded through it, not gently, not thoughtfully, but desperately, pulling you down into him as his mouth claimed yours with a heat that hadn’t been there before. This wasn’t soft anymore. This was hunger. Sharp, ragged, real.

You gasped into him as his hand at your waist shifted, dragging the fabric of your shirt up with it, bunching it around your ribs. The cool air against your skin barely registered before his palm found its way beneath the hem, splayed wide and possessive along your lower back, like he needed to anchor himself there or he’d lose what was left of his self-control.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips. It wasn’t just an expletive. It was surrender—guttural, breathless, wrecked.

You fisted your hands in the fabric of his open shirt, tugging at it with a kind of clumsy urgency, bunching it up as he shifted beneath you. He rose slightly, hips pressing upward under yours, his body caught in that liminal space between restraint and reckless want.

Edward’s hands were everywhere—raking up your back beneath your shirt, sliding around to grip your hips with a desperation that bordered on possessive. You could feel the tension in him, the way his fingers trembled just slightly with the effort not to go faster, harder, too much too soon. His shirt clung to one shoulder, tank top shoved haphazardly beneath his ribs—both useless now. You couldn’t see him. Couldn’t make out his eyes, his expression, the part of his mouth when he gasped—but you didn’t need to. Everything that mattered was beneath your hands. Your hands didn’t stop. You ran them up his chest, memorizing the cut of him by touch—the twitch of his ribs when you dragged your nails lightly, the quiet hiss when your thumbs brushed his nipples through the tank. His body answered you in small, urgent movements—hips lifting, stomach tightening, breath growing ragged against your cheek.

“You’re going to kill me,” he breathed.

Then, his mouth moved to your jaw, then lower, teeth grazing your throat as he kissed a trail down to the edge of your collarbone. You felt him groan against your skin, felt the tension in his jaw as he fought to pace himself—and lost. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, not quite going lower yet, just pressing firmly at your hip, his thumb stroking over bone like he was trying to memorize it through touch alone. He pulledback, breath hot and panting in the dark. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could feel the heat in his focus.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. The words were strained, wrecked. “Just say it, and I will.”

You didn’t. You couldn’t.

“Shut up.”

Instead, your hands slid down between you. His skin was burning under your palms, slick with the sweat clinging to both of you now—heady, hot, humid in the dark. Every inch you explored seemed wound tighter, more braced, like his whole body was caught in the space between restraint and collapse. You traced the line of his stomach, the slight hollow at his navel, the sharp ridge of his hips beneath fabric. Then lower. Your fingertips bumped his belt buckle—hot from his skin, metal biting against your touch. You fumbled for the clasp, working through the worn leather, the button, the zipper. He made a sound as you worked—low, wrecked, sharp. His hands dug into your hips, thumbs pressing hard enough to bruise. His breathing was ragged now, cut up into pieces between the kisses he dragged along the column of your throat.

You were almost there, but your shorts were in the way. You cursed softly under your breath and leaned back just enough to get your hands between you. You could barely think, barely breathe, tugging at the waistband and shimmying them down over your hips in the dark. You kicked them off blindly, one leg at a time, half-graceful, half-feral.

Edward’s hands never left you. He guided you back into his lap the second the fabric cleared your legs, like gravity was no longer strong enough and only he could keep you where you belonged.

You straddled his waist again, seated across him on the dusty, dirty floor, knees aching, chest pressed tight to his. The floor beneath was hard, uncomfortable—but you didn’t care. His tank top was still bunched beneath his ribs. His cargo pants were shoved low around his hips, everything open. You could feel him now—his cock pressed hot and thick between your thighs. Bare.

You both froze there for a moment. Just breathing.

Then you shifted. One hand braced behind his back, the other reaching down between your bodies, lining him up with the kind of instinct that wasn’t thought—it was need. He let out something sharp and high in the back of his throat, his hands tensing on your hips, trying—failing—not to pull.

At last, you sank down onto him—slow, deliberate, unstoppable. The stretch stole your breath. He filled you completely, the pressure dizzying: hot, hard, too much, perfect.

With your forehead pressed to his temple, the exhale left your lungs in one stunned, trembling rush. One hand gripped his shoulder like a lifeline, the other slid behind his neck, fingers tangling in the damp curls at his nape. Thighs shaking where they cradled his hips, you felt him shudder beneath you—a full-body tremor, raw and helpless. The sound that tore from his throat wasn’t a moan. It was a rupture.

“Jesus Christ…” His voice cracked, frayed to the edge of breaking—somewhere between awe and agony.

No answer came from your lips—only breath, ragged and caught. You leaned forward, lips brushing the shell of his ear, the tremor in your voice mirroring the one gripping your body. With a sharp inhale, he moved.

Those hands, once reverent, turned possessive—gripping your ass, holding you flush against him as he ground up into you, slow and brutal. The drag of him inside you was blinding. You gasped, your mouth falling open, a moan spilling from your throat before you could trap it behind your teeth.

Edward’s mouth found yours again—sloppy now, gasping, wet. Tongue and teeth and need. The kiss was frantic, fevered, and absolutely unforgiving. His hips drove upward with controlled force, tight thrusts that sent jolts through your spine. You met him, rolling your hips in tandem, body slick with sweat and sensation. Every grind, every drag was devastation. All around you, the dark amplified everything. The sound of skin against skin. The sharp slap of movement. The whimper of a man trying not to lose control—and failing. The lilting of your moans.

Breath tore from him in ragged bursts, caught somewhere between a moan and a curse, his hands locked around your waist like he was holding himself together by the feel of you. Each time you came down, you felt the strain in his muscles—the way his thighs tensed beneath yours, the way his stomach clenched as he thrust upward to meet you with a kind of restraint that was barely holding.

You rode him in the dark, the slick sound of your bodies meeting swallowed by the static of breath and heat. The floor beneath you was unforgiving—cold, biting at your knees—but it only made you move harder, made every grind, every bounce sharper in contrast. You chased the rhythm with single-minded hunger, moaning into his open mouth, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling, grounding.

“Fuck,” he rasped, the word tumbling from his throat like it hurt. “You’re—” He couldn’t finish.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, dragging down the damp fabric still clinging to him. “Say it,” you breathed, forehead pressed to his. “I want to hear you say it.”

He exhaled a sharp breath, one hand gripping your hip while the other slid beneath your tank top, palm splayed across your lower back, dragging you down harder. “You feel like sin,” he groaned, voice cracked and trembling. “Like I should never be allowed to touch you like this.”

You rolled your hips slower, more deliberate, your breath catching as he gasped into your neck. “You can,” you assured. “You already are.”

Your hips shifted, no longer rocking in that easy rhythm, but grinding down in slow, tightening circles—each pass dragging his cock along every sensitive ridge inside you. You rolled your pelvis forward at the top, then dropped down with a stuttering snap of motion that made him choke on a sound, hips jerking up in reflex.

It was intentional. Precise. Your movements weren’t rushed—they were devastating. Drawing his length through your slick, pulsing heat in a rhythm that was both merciless and teasing, calculated to make him fall apart and know you were the one doing it to him.

His breath stuttered out in fragments against your neck, jaw clenched, every muscle in his stomach tensing as he tried—tried—to hold on.

“Jesus—fuck, I’m not—” The words died in his throat, swallowed by a groan, hoarse and guttural as his forehead fell to your shoulder. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice a soft, wicked taunt against his temple. Your hands dragged up his back, nails grazing the damp fabric of his shirt, the heat between you scorching now, your thighs trembling from the effort, from the building pressure cresting behind your ribs. “Just don’t stop.”

His mouth was on your shoulder, open and desperate, moaning helplessly into your skin as you bounced again—sharper this time, faster, not enough to finish but enough to make his hips snap up with a raw, broken thrust.

He was close. So were you.

And then—

The lights flickered on.

Too bright. Too sudden.

Edward jolted like he’d been shot, his entire body seizing beneath yours. Hands froze at your hips. Chest heaving. Eyes wide, blinking against the harsh overhead fluorescents that illuminated everything.

You saw him. Finally, saw him.

His dark hair was a wild, sweat-damp mess, curls sticking to his forehead, to his flushed cheeks and throat. His glasses were nowhere in sight. His shirt hung half-off his shoulder, collar stretched, his tank top soaked and clinging to the lean cut of his torso. His mouth was parted in shock, lips kiss-bitten, his expression utterly wrecked.

His eyes—those brilliant, electric blue eyes—looked dazed, vulnerable, caught.

And for a moment, he stopped. Like the light made it real. Like he was about to disappear inside himself and take the moment with him.

But you didn’t let him.

You cupped his face in both hands, drawing him back to you, your forehead pressing to his, your breath shaking as you stared into him.

“Don’t stop,” you whined, voice trembling, your thumbs stroking over the flushed heat of his cheeks. You started moving again, hips rolling down slow and deep. His breath caught with a startled sound, mouth falling open. “Please. Don’t stop.”

Your voice pitched higher as the rhythm built again, as your hips met his in a seamless, hungry rhythm. You kissed him—sloppy, open-mouthed, desperate—riding him with effortless, aching momentum now, the sound of your bodies echoing in the room.

“Oh god, Edward,” you gasped. “Don’t—don’t stop—ah!”

Your head fell back, mouth open, hands sliding from his face to his shoulders just as the orgasm tore through you like a storm.

Heat coiled in your belly, then exploded—sharp and bright and deep, every muscle in your body seizing as your walls clenched around him, pulsing, dragging him with you. Your cry echoed off the walls, breath breaking, thighs shaking around his waist.

He watched you come apart in his lap—eyes wide, mouth parted, reverent.

And he was right there with you.

You rode out the shudders of your orgasm with his name on your tongue, your body pulsing around him in slow, clenching waves. Your thighs quivered against his hips, your hands curled into his shoulders for balance, grip faltering as the high twisted through you—but you didn’t stop.

Didn’t dare.

Instead, you kept moving. Kept grinding your hips down onto him with slow, aching precision, milking every drop of aftershock from your own body—and dragging him with you. His hands scrambled for purchase—first at your waist, then up your back, then into your hair as his body bucked beneath yours, the tension in him a live wire, a fuse burning fast.

“Fuck—fuck, I can’t—” He looked up at you, wild and panicked, his eyes locked to yours like he was falling and couldn’t find the ground.

You didn’t let go. You gripped his jaw, holding his face steady in your hands, lips barely brushing his. “Yes, you can,” you whispered, voice wrecked and breathless. “Let me see you. Let me have you.”

Edward moaned—high, wrecked, utterly gone—and that was it.

His hips surged up into you in one final, frantic thrust, then stilled. His head dropped back, mouth open in a soundless cry as his body arched beneath yours. The orgasm ripped through him—violent and full-body—his fingers clenching at your sides as he spilled into you, hips jerking with every pulse, every helpless wave.

You stayed with him, hips still moving gently, drawing it out, wringing every last flicker of pleasure from him with your body wrapped tight around his. Watching him shake. Watching him fall apart. His eyes never left yours. Not until they fluttered closed, lashes heavy, lips parted as he sagged beneath you—shuddering, breathless, undone. You kissed his cheek, soft and reverent, then his temple, then his mouth—slow and lingering, the kind of kiss meant to tell him he survived it.

He hadn’t spoken yet. Couldn’t. But the way his arms curled around you, holding you to his chest like you were the only thing keeping him in his body—that said everything.

Feeling everything catch up to you, you let your head all to his neck, resting there, tucked there.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

The cavernous lair was whirring, electronics coming alive with the backup system—it wasn’t quiet. But you were. You both were save for your panting, huffing breaths. You were both sticky with sweat, limbs tangled, your thighs aching, his hands still heavy on your back.

Edward sat beneath you, his chest rising and falling in slow, disbelieving waves. His shirt hung from one shoulder like an afterthought. His hair was a wild mess, curls clinging to the flushed shell of his ear. He looked like he’d survived a small war.

And you? You were still straddling him. Still buried together. Still reeling.

He blinked up at the ceiling, eyes dazed, voice hoarse. “Well… that was interesting.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Shut up.”

“Can’t,” he croaked. “Think I blew a fuse. Physically. Psychologically. Possibly spiritually.”

You snorted against his skin before raising up to shake your head and narrow your eyes playfully.

He only smirked softly in that way only he could.

Had it not been for the blackout, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe you would’ve kept circling each other for weeks. Months. Always brushing, never breaking.

Maybe the dark just gave you permission.

Compelled with this new breach in boundaries, you reached up and brushed your thumb along his cheekbone, slow and deliberate. “So…” you murmured, “that’s what it takes to get you to shut up for five minutes.”

A breath caught in his throat—half laugh, half indignation. “I was being respectfully stunned.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” You tilted your head.

He narrowed his eyes, still breathless. “Had the lights not come back on, I could’ve salvaged my dignity.”

“Mm. No, sweetheart.” You hummed, dragging your fingers through his hair, gently teasing out a knot. “That ship got railed and sunk about twenty minutes ago.”

Edward’s hair was damp beneath your fingers, sticking to his temple, his face still flushed and dazed. You could feel his pulse through every point of contact—under your hands, inside you, in you. He blinked up at you, like the world was just now catching up to him. His mouth parted slightly, like he might try to say something clever. But he didn’t. Not yet.

You stroked your hand back through his hair, quiet. “You look like you just got struck by lightning.”

He huffed a breathless laugh, voice raw. “I feel like I forgot my own name.”

“Should I remind you?” you asked, rolling your hips once—lazy, cruel.

He flinched. “Please don’t.”

You smiled, soft and sharp. “Well then,” you said, dragging your hand down his chest like you were mapping your way back to calm, “maybe next time, you’ll think twice before you leave a mess all over the floor.”

His hand flexed at your hip, still twitchy with the aftershocks. “I didn’t—”

“Edward.”

A beat.

“…Okay,” he grumbled.

Smiling, you leaned forward, pressed a kiss to his flushed cheek, then to the edge of his jaw, slow and reverent, like you weren’t just teasing—you were claiming the wreckage.

He didn’t move. Barely breathed. You felt the twitch of his fingers against your skin, the way his chest rose to meet yours without thinking, like his body was still answering to you, even as his brain tried to catch up. And for once, he didn’t try to be clever. He didn’t deflect. He just sat there, dazed and quiet, his arms loose around your waist like he wasn’t ready to let go.

You weren’t either.

So you stayed. Straddling him on the cold, grimy floor. Skin cooling. Muscles aching. The overhead fluorescents buzzed softly above you, flickering now and then like they were struggling to decide if they were staying on for good.

Eventually, you shifted just enough to rest your forehead to his. Your nose brushed his. He exhaled.

“…We’re gonna have to move eventually,” Edward murmured.

You nodded. But didn’t move.

Not yet.

#Please Do Not Feed The Riddler #Riddler x reader #Riddler x gender neutral reader #Edward Nigma #The Riddler #Riddler fanfiction #Riddler fanfic #Riddler #Arkham Knight #Arkhamverse #dc comics #smut #reader insert #gn reader #PWP #minors dni

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caesariawritesstuff · 23 days ago

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Arkham Riddler NSFW Headcanons

Favorite Position:

Doggystyle. Edward craves control, and this expands heavily into the bedroom. He needs to be 100% in control at all times. Any position where he’s in control is his favorite, particularly when it comes to taking his partner from behind. He likes how dominating it feels to control the pacing and thrusts, that he can grab his partner’s hips or ass or hair and force their face into the bed/nearby surface.

Really, any position where he can maintain eye contact, control the way he fucks his partner and keep them submissive, is what he gravitates towards.

Least Favorite Position:

Edward isn’t a huge fan of missionary. He finds it to be too intimate and too close. His chest pressed against his partner’s, with barely any space in between, makes him feel too vulnerable and like every part of him can be seen, and he hates that.

Edward may only engage in missionary with a partner who he feels deeply for, or when he’s trying to use the position to maintain more control over his partner. Essentially, anything where he’s physically close enough to touch noses is uncomfortable for him.

Oral – Giving or Receiving or Both:

Edward loves to both give and receive oral. He definitely enjoys burying his face in his partner’s cunt; he loves the taste, the smell, and the way he can bring his partner to tears through overstimulation with just the use of his tongue. He already has a Silver Tongue, and putting it to another use is a huge turn on for him.

Likewise, he enjoys receiving it as much as the next man. Having his partner’s lips wrapped around his length, pleasuring him while he looks down from above, is sure enough to make him mentally unravel.

Anal:

Edward is into it. He doesn’t mind getting in there and using his mouth, either. He quite enjoys the way his partner submits to him and allows him to have complete control and trust. He see’s it as a sign of his partner’s true submission.

Turn-Ons:

Anything where he’s in control is a turn on. His partner being actively submissive is enough to immediately make his cock hard. He won’t admit it out loud, but he’s also particualry a fan of a bratty partner – someone who will push his buttons and toe the line of his patience. Having a partner who flares him up is a turn on.

Of course, he also depends greatly on praise and ego-stroking. Mentioning how genius and amazing he is, how handsome and skilled – it’s all a recipe to get him going.

Intelligence is a must. Edward doesn’t have time for a partner he deems to be “stupid”. Which, unfortunately, is how he considers most people. However, if he were to find a partner who he found some value in, he’d be interested.

Someone who has the same interests as him, such as a knack for computers or anything mechanical, will catch his attention. It’s much easier for him to engage in conversation with someone who actually knows what he’s talking about rather than give him a deer in the headlights look.

A partner who knows what they want. Edward doesn’t have time for someone who’s indecisive or uncertain. He appreciates someone who takes charge, makes decision, and sticks to them.

Cleverness is also a big turn on. Someone who can match his wit, or engage in a verbal sparring match with him will catch his interest. He needs someone who can keep him on his toes and challenge him, not bore him.

Turn-Offs:

Humiliation is a huge no-no when it’s directed at him. While he doesn’t mind humiliating his partner, if it’s turned back on him in any way, he won’t be happy. He also hates feeling out of control, unless it’s calculated and a planned part of the intimate game, so to speak.

Disrespect and disloyalty. He doesn’t appreciate a partner who’s going to disrespect him, and any blow to his ego is going to make him crumble into pieces, even if he won’t show it. He also doesn’t have time for someone who doesn’t want to make time for him. If someone decides someone, or something else, is more important, he’s quick to lose patience and interest.

Stupidity. If a partner is too dimwitted or has what he deems is a low IQ, he’s going to quickly be turned off. Especially if this person has no willingness to learn, he’s not going to waste his time.

Anyone who’s overly pompous. Edward is allowed to have an ego, but if his partner acts too high and mighty with their nose up in the air, he’s going to be disgusted.

Kinks:

Praise Kink – he depends on his partner singing his praises. If his partner tells him how wonderful he is, especially while in the middle of the deed, he won’t be able to control himself.

Breeding Kink – while Edward has no interest in being a dad, he can’t help but feel like Gotham and the rest of the humanity would benefit from him passing on his outstanding genetics. He gets off on the idea of breeding his partner and having offspring.

Cane Play – Edward definitely enjoys using his cane in the bedroom. He likes to use the question-mark end for spanking, or the staff end to tilt his partner’s chin up or run it down his partner’s body.

Light Bondage/Spanking/Control - He’s into light bondage and spanking, including the use of cuffs or restraints, or using collars on his partner. He’ll never allow it on himself, but with his partner, he enjoys the control and seeing them vulnerable.

Speech Control – “Yes, sir. No, sir.” Edward greatly values respect, and having a partner who address him as such – or even as “Mr. Nigma, sir” is sure enough to turn him on and drive him wild.

Objectification – Treating his partner like a toy. Really, anything that allows him control is a big kink.

Experience Level:

Eddie doesn’t have too much physical experience. He’s quite picky and selective when choosing a partner, so his experience level is little to none. But you can be damn sure that this man has read every book, article, sex guide, and manual available to ensure he’s properly prepared to give and receive pleasure. His need for control masks his inexperience, but he’s a quick learner, and it doesn’t take him long to figure out what he’s doing.

His photographic memory also makes it easy for him to remember porn and techniques he’s seen that he can then utilize in the act. Once he gets started, he’s going to dedicate himself to being Edward Nigma, the Greatest Lover You’ve Ever Had.

Pace Preference:

Maintaining control, above all things, is his first priority. Edward greatly prefers to take things at his own pace. He loves to drag things out, to enjoy the game of back and forth with his partner. But when he loses himself in the moment, he’s prone to becoming intense, possessive, and dominating.

Anything too slow makes him uncomfortable. If the sex is too slow, almost on the verge of making love, than he feels too vulnerable, as if you’re looking at every part of him. He needs to maintain a moderate to rough pace to keep himself from feeling like he’s tipping over the edge into something more.

Aftercare:

Since Eddie resents vulnerability, his aftercare is very minimal. He’s quick to return to whatever he was doing and put on the mask of control, snark, and cockiness. He refuses anything from his partner – like water or a tissue to clean up and will get what he needs himself.

However, he is quick to get his partner a towel or some water if the session was particularly intense. He won’t show vulnerability during this time, but uses this a way to ensure his partner is still taken care of and depends on him.

Dirty Talk:

This man loves dirty talk. He playfully disguises it behind clever word play, superiority, riddles, and double meanings. He gets off on making his partner squirm. This man is not above talking filth, and enjoys watching his partner flush from his words. He’s quite a fan of degrading his partner, and anything that makes him feel like he’s “winning” is a plus.

Public vs Private:

While the thrill of getting caught is tempting, Edward would despise actually being caught in such a vulnerable position with his pants down. He also would refuse to allow his partner to be seen that way, either. Secret trysts where they could almost be caught still gives him the edge he wants without the actual danger.

Doing the deed behind closed doors where someone might hear you is a huge turn on. The knowledge that someone might walk in at any moment or one of his goons might hear it will thrill him.

Control Preference:

Control is a 100% a must. He only allows his partner to take perceived control. When he does, it’s a calculated move, and he never truly gives up total control. He refuses to budge an inch and show any ounce of vulnerability.

Clothing Preference:

Edward is quite insecure about his body. The act of fully undressing feels far too intimate for his liking. He’s usually willing to unbutton his shirt or shrug off a jacket, and usually just slips his cock out of his pants instead of taking them off fully.

He truly has to like his partner and trust them to feel vulnerable enough to undress fully, but that trust needs to be well-earned.

As for his partner, Edward doesn’t care what they wear or how they dress on a day-to-day basis. He doesn’t have time to notice such things – however, he is a bit of a fan of seeing his partner dress up for him. Whether it to be a nice dress or suit and tie, he’s going to notice if something is different.

However, he is desperate to see his partner in green. If you go out of your way to wear something green for him – green clothes, green lingerie, etc – he won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.

During the deed, he prefers his partner to be fully naked, or at least partially unclothed. He gets off on the power dynamic of being mostly dressed while his partner isn’t.

How to Fluster Them:

Genuine praise from his partner that isn’t part of the game is sure to fluster Edward. Anything that catches him off guard emotionally, such as a tender moment from his partner, can make Edward lose focus on the task at hand. Especially if his partner manages to surprise or outwit him.

Edward relies so heavily on control, and is so traumatized from years of abuse, that anything from his partner that feels real is sure enough to make him squirm. A random compliment that isn’t part of the game or is thrown his way will catch him off guard.

Actually engaging with him. Edward might not admit it out loud, but he’s used to people ignoring him because he talks so much. If you actually keep your attention on him and what he says, and engaged in conversation with him, he’s going to notice.

Favorite Time of the Day:

Late at night. Edward prefers the quiet solitude that night time brings. He loves the quiet sounds of the city, and how it feels he can be with his partner uninterrupted. Having a moment where he no longer has to put on a show and can somewhat relax is something he craves.

Favorite Place to Have Sex:

Edward isn’t particularly picky about the location – though he does quite enjoy bending his partner over his work bench or hoisting them on top of it. He likes the control of having his partner in his space.

Edward is hesitant to invite a partner into his bedroom. He’ll only do so if he truly cares about his partner and is willing to show that level of vulnerability with them.

Secret Soft Spot:

His scalp. Preferably if his partner has long nails and can scratch and massage through his hair. It’s enough to make him melt, even if he won’t show it.

Favorite Place to Be Touched:

His hands, wrists, and forearms. He works so much with his hands, and having them be touched and massaged is a huge relaxation for him.

Least Favorite Place to Be Touched:

Definitely his neck. He has far too much trauma from being choked out by Batman to ever let a partner touch or kiss him there. If he did eventually, it’d be a huge level of trust and commitment to his partner to let his guard down like that.

Jealousy/Possessive Level:

Extremely possessive, and easily jealous. Anyone who so much looks in his partner’s direction or shows them an ounce of affection, and he’s already plotting their demise in his head. He hates competition, and the thought of losing what he considers “his” is quick to make him angry and territorial.

Edward is a master planner, and he’ll be quick to rid himself of any competition. Whether it be murder, blackmail, or a bribe – he’s sure to eliminate anyone who gets in his way.

Favorite Compliments During Sex:

Anything that praises his ego – especially his intellect – but he’s not picky about his physical appearance being complimented, too. Really, this man’s praise kink and desperate need for attention is through the roof. He’s sure to soak up any compliment at all.

Stamina:

High. This man might not be the most physically capable, but he has spent years doing manual labor by working with machines and engineering traps. He can last quite long ad push himself far, but he’s not usually going to go multiple rounds without some time in between. If he does manage to get it up quickly soon after the first round, it’s usually do to him being very turned on or feeling the need to continue punishing (or rewarding) his partner. If it’s just a quickie, don’t count on him to get it up again so soon after, especially if he’s distracted or feels like he has too much work to do.

Marking Preference:

Edward absolutely loves marking his partner. Bruises, hickeys, a collar or jewelry with a hidden meaning – he wants the world to know who his partner belongs to, and he isn’t afraid to show it. Bites and scratches are a plus, too.

Edward desperately needs the world to know who you belong to. He’ll parade you around in all green, especially an outfit with his question mark motif on it, just for people to know he has a claim over you.

Tits, Ass, or Both:

Edward enjoys both, but he prefers the grip and hold a nice ass gives him. He’s particualry fond of spanking. Of course, he loves burying his face in a nice pair of tits and sucking and squeezing them to his content.

Length:

About 6 inches flaccid, 7 when erect. Bigger than people expect.

Circumcised, slightly angled upwards and a little to the left. Several noticeable veins running through the shaft.

Mess Preference:

This man is not above making a mess. Blood, Sweat, Saliva, Cum – it doesn’t bother him. In fact, he gets off on seeing how ruined his partner is. Seeing his partner lying there, sweaty or their eyes glassy as cum pools out of them – it’s definitely a sight he won’t forget anytime soon.

In fact, if his partner doesn’t look ruined afterwards, he’s going to consider that a failure. He needs you to look like you’ve just been thoroughly fucked or he won’t feel accomplished in the act.

Grooming Preference:

When he’s in a better mental state, he prefers to keep himself neat and tidy. But when Edward’s not in a good mental state, he lets himself go, since personal hygiene and grooming go out the window.

It’s not uncommon for Edward to be wearing dirty, oil-stained clothes and to have greasy hair or dirty fingernails if he’s been working long hours.

He prefers his partner to keep themselves neat and tidy, but he’s not too picky. He doesn’t care much if his partner is in the same state as him or immaculately groomed, as long as it doesn’t get in the way of sex.

Love Language (In Bed):

Words of Affirmation. This man is starved for attention. Worshipping his mind and moaning his name like he’s the last man on Earth is going to completely unravel him.

Acts of Service is secondary. He won’t say it out loud, but knowing you’re taking the extra effort to take care of him – feed him, remind him to rest, keep his workspace neat and tidy – are all things he’ll appreciate more than he’ll ever say aloud.

Sexual Insecurities:

As much as he masks it with arrogance, Edward has incredibly low self-esteem. He’ll hide it behind tricky words of grandeur, but deep down, he’s terrified that he’s not enough – not strong enough, not handsome enough, too loud, too annoying, too controlling and too desperate for your attention. He’s afraid that if he slips up, let’s the real him through, that you’ll realize he’s a waste of space and that you’ll leave him.

This ties into his ability to please you in bed. He won’t show it, but deep down, he’s worried he’s not man enough to please you, and that you’ll be so unsatisfied that you’ll look for someone else instead. His lack of experience makes him feel not worthy enough for your attention and like he’s not going to prove himself in bed.

Post-Sex Behavior:

Edward switches between two modes: overly talkative or unusually quiet. If he’s engaged in a quickie, he’ll usually go right back to what he was doing and dismiss you without saying much. If the sex was intense, he spends much of his time afterwards analyzing what the sex meant and what it means to him, and to you. He’ll fall quiet while he’s overanalyzing, but try to mask his concern by being talkative and putting back on his mask of arrogance. Edward hates to show vulnerability during sex, and unless he truly cares about his partner, he won’t cuddle with them. Cuddling is too intimate – and his partner truly needs to be special to show that side of himself.

Edward definitely pretends not to let the intimacy bother him, but deep down, it does. He refuses to show any ounce of vulnerability and tenderness if he can help it. Sex is not something he takes lightly. The very act of choosing a partner, being intimate, and allowing himself to be one with someone is not something he decides to do without much thought taken when it comes to the risks and rewards.

Edward is not the type of man to find a partner for a one-night stand. If he chooses someone, he expects them to be a long-term partner – and the closer he gets, the more terrified he is, and he’ll withdraw deep into his mind if things get too serious.

#caesariawrites #caesariatalks #the riddler #edward nigma #arkham riddler #arkhamverse riddler #edward nygma #arkhamverse #the riddler x reader #the riddler headcanons #the riddler x you #the riddler x y/n

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acapelladitty · 8 months ago

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`♡° kinktober 2024! ---

☆ kink: massage (dubious consent)

☆ pairing: riddler/reader

☆ summary: With the Riddler restrained to a gurney, you test out a new way to get your favourite 'patient' to calm down.

kinktober '24 ☆ main masterlist ☆ ao3

Restrained to the bed with several thick straps digging into his limbs, Edward Nygma was every inch the picture of indignation as he struggled against his bonds. Abandoned to your personal care due to a myriad of reasons which ranged from other staff finding him unbearable to a lack of available personnel, he had only been strapped down to the gurney for around ten minutes but it was ten minutes of a relentless verbal barrage.

“Fools! Cretins! You are all so weak in the presence of such genius that you must keep me held like this? Your stupidity is baffling and the world will not miss your presence when my revenge is had. How dare any of you put your hands on me?”

Spitting the final question with vitriol, the sheer level of irritation in his voice sparks an idea within your mind – one which is bolstered by just how absolutely fed up you are with his goddamn attitude.

“Mr Nygma,” interrupting his rant as you came to stand beside his torso, “I am going to have to ask you to relax.”

“Relax?” Snarling the response, Edward’s green eyes are narrowed at you in such a way that you immediately understand that if his hands were not restrained then they would be wrapped around your neck in a heartbeat. “Untie me now, wench.”

“It’s my job to keep you settled as a patient,” meeting his anger with forced patience, you put your plan into action as you drop your hands to his thin shoulders. Your thumbs instantly go to work, rubbing circles into his tensed muscles as his body goes stock-still at the unexpected sensation.

"What are you- unhand me at once you sour-faced bitch."

"That's not very kind, Mr Nygma. Your muscles are in knots and it would be better to let me rub you down."

Gripping his shoulders, you dig your fingers into the skin there and admire the way his entire body jerks at the touch as he pulls at the restraints with renewed energy. Trapped, he is utterly helpless beneath your hands and the power you hold over him in this instant is heady – your fingers trembling slightly at the smooth out across his shoulder before returning to rub along the base of his neck.

“Stop. Touching. Me.”

Anger giving way to something almost like panic, the shift is what you expected and you take it in stride as you move to stand behind his head, gazing down as his emerald eyes with resolution.

“No.”

Dragging your fingers higher, you rub your digits across his scalp. His auburn hair looks redder than usual against the stark whiteness of the gurney as you disturb the strands. They feel almost damp against your fingers, a mixed result of his sweat-laced struggles and also the natural oils which have built up there between his showers.

You roll your nails against the area just to the side of his ears and you both freeze in place at the low moan which slips free of his lips at the sensation. His eyes, which until now have been stubbornly facing away from your position, tilt up to meet your own and you can see the shame burning fiercely at his own reaction. And yet, his head can’t seem to help itself as it presses firmly into your hands – silently asking for what his pride could never stomach to demand.

Glancing down at his body, a thrill of wickedness lances through your gut as you take in the visible tent which pokes free of the fabric which covers his groin. It catches you by surprise but your plans switch in an instant as arousal joins the cruel delight which is powering your movements and you decide to push your fun to its extremes.

“Mr Nygma!” Feigning shock at the obvious tent, you place your hand on his upper thigh and enjoy the way that the muscles tense beneath your fingers. “I see that you’re feeling more relaxed than I thought.”

His cheeks a wild shade of pink, you can see the shame which is making his features tight as he refuses to look down and meet your eye. All of that earlier bravado is gone, replaced by a woeful embarrassment as his own body betrayed him at your soft touches.

“I’m not cruel like the rest of them, Edward. Can I call you Edward? Eddie?”

Taking it into your palm, a move which draws a sharp inhale from Edward as his fingers visibly scrape against the fabric of the gurney, you stroke along his length with a soft jerking motion. He’s not overly huge but his cock has a slight thickness which feels nice in your hand, as you gently work along his velvety skin.

He says nothing but you can see the twitch in his jaw at the question.

Pulling the waistband of his pants down a few inches, you slowly reveal a healthy patch of auburn pubic hair which curls all the way down to the base of his cock and you unleash a feigned gasp of surprise as his cock springs free – jutting proudly towards his stomach.

Despite the situation, he remains stubbornly silent and you enjoy the peace for what its worth. That said, he can’t hide how much your actions are affecting him. Every stroke of your hand forces a soft gasp from his lips, his mouth forming into a slight ‘o’ as you focus your attention on his strained cockhead – the tip jerking into your palm as it begs for more in a way that its owner cannot.

“You shouldn’t be- this isn’t right.” Panting out the broken words, there is a cuteness to how determined Edward is to continue to try and deny that he is enjoying himself – his throbbing cock making his arousal utterly undeniable as his hips buck into your hand with what little purchase they can manage. “Why are y-”

“I’m giving you what you need, Eddie. You’re too uptight when they try to lock you up in these restraints, so I think a little positive encouragement might help you,” crooning the words, you tighten your hand around the base of his cock and use the fingers of your other hand to polish the head of his cock, spreading his leaking pre-cum to make the movements even smoother.

“No, no,” he pleads, unable to pull away and having to endure every wicked touch you subject him to as he whines, “please, I’m close.” His hair is a mess, the thrashing of his skull against the gurney having knocked most of the coiffed locks free, and you take pity and drop your fingers from his cockhead.

“If you ask me to finish you off I will,” you offer, using your free hand to stroke along his jaw and feel the slight sweat which had developed there. “I’m not that cruel.”

Overworked and overstimulated, Edward can barely wrap his mouth around the words as he shudders against the gurney and cants his hips like a desperate schoolboy.

“Please, nurse. Please let me- let me come.”

Pleased with the request, you glance at him with a smirk, “Okay.”

True to your word, you pick up the pace on your hand and quickly pull him over the edge he’s been dangling on for the last minute. His orgasm hits with surprising violence, his release spurting across your hand hard enough to break free of his cock and splash across the fabric which covers his lower stomach. Unable to control his breathing, the whine which pairs with his release sends a shiver of arousal through your cunt and you can feel the dampness of your panties as they press against your drenched slit.

Knowing that you’ll be replaying that sound in your mind later as you fuck yourself silly on your bed, you settle for rubbing your thighs together gently as you drop his cock from your fingers.

“Now,” wiping your come stained hand off on the inside of your nurse scrubs with a placating smile, you take a moment to pull his pants back up, “are you going to be a good patient for me, Eddie?”

Still attempting to hide how harshly he was breathing; his head moves slowly in an agreeing nod – his gaze refusing to meet your own. You can feel the embarrassment radiating off him, the shame at how easily his own body had betrayed him, how easily he had came with just a little attention to his aching length.

Ruffling his hair with your other hand, a delayed feeling of shock settles in your skin as you realise exactly what just happened, what you just did, but you play it off with a soft exhale and focus on the task of getting Edward back to his cell without incident.

#riddler #edward nygma #edward nigma #riddler x reader #edward nigma x reader #edward nygma x reader #riddler smut #riddler fic

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libidinee · 15 days ago

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pre! riddler ed nygma dating hcs <3

tws. none! requests open!

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who's just the sweet guy you work with. Wide smile and squinted eyes that popped up every couple of minutes to make convenient small talk with you. Either he forgot some evidence- or he would tell you that your hair looks wonderful today, or of course a riddle.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who actually gets to talk! Instead of being rudely interrupted or heavily discouraged by the eyeballs of his co-workers. You actually.. listen. You nodded along and asked questions, your remembered!! Sometimes he gets too excited and he stutters and stumbles over his quick words. And god, that sweet smile that made him fall in love with you.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who knows he's in love with you the moment he sees you. Actually he knows when he lays down in bed that night. Hes actually giggling in bed thinking about you. He's so eager to go to sleep, when tomorrow comes quicker he can see you.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who brings you your lunch, grabs papers for you, open the doors for you and even sometimes ties your shoes.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who kissed you for the first time after you both stay late one day. No one.. but maybe captain is here, your just staying back doing some extra filing, and he's having a lab clean out, its gotten really messy and he just couldn't focus today. You popped in to say goodnight, and you give him that sweet smile. It felt.. natural. You leaned over, kissed his cheek goodnight, before wishing him goodbye. And he liked it.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who stands there stunned for like 10 minutes, his cheeks burning to the point he's gotten sick and has a terrible fever. But no hesitation just.. flustered.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who's immediately by your side the next day. Its a crime scene today, your standing by, and he's bagging evidence and biohazards material (really just some flesh), and as soon as he's done he's talking to you. Its open, he spends his lunch break with you, no matter if your on yours, he'll just stand by your desk.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who asks you out the next day. A bouquet of flowers, a dorky card with what each flower means, and he says it's all for you. He'll get you a little card and everything, and he'll invite you over for dinner.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma whose nervous to get into the relationship, not that he doesn't trust you! Hes just.. he never thought he'd really do this. I mean everyone in the Department looked at him like he was a freak, but here you are.. willingly hanging out with him, WILLINGLY DATING HIM!!

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who immediately has pictures of you up in his apartment. You come by one day and he has you two framed on his nightstand, it's sweet. Its is a nice frame and clean as a whistle, like he just wiped it off.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who spends late nights with you, rewatching old tv and chatting about the world. You provide such.. wonderful insight. He loved looking into your mind, it was like glimpsing into you in your raw form.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who makes you breakfast every morning!!! You stayed the night, and you woke up to his goofy little muppet smile and an excited 'I made you an omelette! And toast, and a little bit of eggs but I ran out halfway so like barely half an egg-'

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who does anything you ask him. He'd move the heaven and earth to make you happy. He goes to every event with you, constantly is giving you gifts and taking you out on dates, sometimes it's like the honeymoon phase never ended.

pre! riddler Ed Nygma who remembers every little thing you say. He knows your order from the coffee shop you guys go too, your mothers birthday, your favorite species of cat and exactly where that mole on your back was that he saw the other day while you were changing.

#cas.txt #x reader #gotham x reader #gotham fox #gotham #gotham tv #edward nygma #edward nigma #edward nygma x reader #gotham edward nygma #ed nygma #ed nygma x reader #dc x reader

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nxtaliaistyping · 10 months ago

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Batrogues | p links part two

(gotta be logged into twitter for links to work)

NSFW 18+. some new faces, some returning ones, part one here.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

The Riddler:

If you beg for his attention while he’s working in his workshop, then he’ll leave you like this.

Secretly has a soft spot for bigger girls <3

He’s a classy guy, he loves lingerie

How he eats it after you stroke his ego

He likes you dripping and desperate for him

Honestly this is how I need him to fuck me

The Scarecrow:

What, you thought just because he used to be a professor, he’d be turned on by you dressing so crude? He’ll show you what he thinks

Edward is the closest thing he has to a friend, it would be rude for him not to share you with the riddler.

As a thank you for letting him have you, Edward gave you a present. Now you use it and send videos to Jonathan when he’s working <3

You help him get to sleep

Likes making you ride him

This but he’s wearing the scarecrow mask

Catwoman:

She gets a sick sense of pleasure when she seduces a woman whose in a relationship with a man

Takes you to expensive hotels just the fuck you in them

You told her and Harley that you wanted to be part of the Gotham City Sirens, but they said there was an entrance exam

Yeah, it doesn’t matter where you both are, she’ll just knock out anyone who stumbles upon you both

Breaks in to your house with her strap on under her suit so she can fuck you

Thank her for all the expensive gifts by getting on your knees

The Mad Hatter:

Once he found the toy under your bed, he knew he had to have you use it

Loves seeing you in such cute underwear

He also loves when you act all innocent, so he can feel like he’s corrupting you

How he treats his sweet Alice when you do what he says

And it helps when his Alice loves it as much as him

Though he likes when you take matters into your own hands

Deathstroke:

He owns plenty of handcuffs

If you try and ride him, this is how you’ll end up

Oh you’re wearing fishnets? Good luck

Where else should he cum, if not deep inside?

Yeah, he’s rough

But if it’s been a long day, he can be intimate too

Black Mask:

Makes you send videos like this all the time, the more embarrassing the dildo the better

What’s that? You don’t wanna do anal? Well then obviously you don’t want to be his best girl, do you?

You still have to look pretty, even when being punished

After coming back from a meeting

Unlike Scarecrow, he definitely isn’t shy about being into the whole schoolgirl outfit

As in incentive to his men, the lucky guy who earns him the most money that month gets front row seats to see this

Harley Quinn:

Harls doesn’t like to wait till you’re back from the club

She’s a threesome kinda girl

She loves your tits

Fuck her with the strap, so she can fuck you with the same one tomorrow <3

When you put her panties in her mouth, she came so quick

What happens when she invites you for a sleepover

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨

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finniestoncrane · 8 months ago

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Arkham!Riddler x GN!Reader, word count: 1.2k it's SHAVING AS A SIGN OF INTIMACY TIME listen this might be the beginning of several on this theme it's a kink i've loved for a while!! anyway, eddie has requested some assistance with shaving from reader, who he has decided he trusts enough to hold a razor to his tender skin *drool* also i'm not sorry for how autistic eddie is about his question mark shirt, he is literally me 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: little bit of humorous threats, shaving, flirting, suggestive towards the end

"Must be painful for you, having to ask for help."

"And it might be painful for you to suffer the consequences of your insolent tone."

You lifted your hand up, holding the handle of the very old fashioned razor blade between your fingers and dangling it in front of him.

"And it might be even more painful for you to suffer the consequences of your own shitty attitude if you don't behave."

With a playful smile, you pressed a finger below his chin, lifting it up, noting the smile that curled slightly on his lips, one he was trying to suppress in favour of remaining stoic in your presence.

"You know, Eddie, if you would take proper rests between working on your projects you wouldn't make so many mistakes."

The blade was close to him, not close enough that it made contact with him, but enough that he was lucky you pulled it back quickly enough when he lifted his head once more.

"I don't make mistakes! I have suffered a minor injury to three of my fingers, a consequence of poor tools. It's difficult to source higher quality material when you're a known and wanted entity."

You gently tilted his head back once more, nodding along to his rants, knowing by now when it would be a futile effort to argue with him. And by the time he had finished rambling, you were ready with the blade and the shaving cream, both in hand as you stared him down, patiently waiting for him to be quiet.

"Well? Are you going to get on with it?"

He barked the question at you, and you prepared yourself to begin, stopping short as he raised a hand.

"Hold on. I don't want you to make a mess of my shirt."

He shrugged the green, paint stained, short-sleeved shirt from his slender torso, leaving him in just a low cut, torn vest.

"You're very clumsy."

"Eddie. Clumsy enough that you're worried I'll ruin your already disgusting shirt, but not so clumsy that you'll trust me with a sharpened blade against your throat?"

For a moment, you had him stuck. He didn't have an argument, any words, you seemed to have caught him. But instead of replying, he simply sighed and waved you off.

"The texture of these fresh hairs on my face is far more annoying than any potential nicks, life-threatening or otherwise. This shirt is the only one I own, and it's to the exact fit I like it after the years of wear."

"Your priorities are interesting."

"I'm interesting."

That was his rebuttal, and he was satisfied with it. So you began your work, carefully placing your palm against his cheek. A soft touch, a careful carress, a gesture of reassurance. You cared for him, despite the playful teasing, the insistence on his part that you were only a disposable assitant. You went above and beyond, in awe of him, unable to resist the urge to worship him. You wouldn't let harm come to him by your hands, that's what the touch meant.

And the fact that he seemed to trust you, regardless of whether that was pushed onto him by the circumstances, meant the world in return.

As the razor made it's first pass over his skin, he seemed to raise himself up slightly, a natural reaction to the cool of the metal. So you laid your hand on his chest, pressing him back down and keeping it there. His heartbeat was steady, skin clammy against yours, a brush of soft hair coating his chest.

While you were't able to detect any change in Eddie's demeanour, he was worrying that you could. The moment you touched him he had felt his blood run cold. The threat, the imminent danger, the possibility that you could, at any moment, take his life. But the odd certainty that you wouldn't. It was all swirling through his mind, picking up flecks of the ill-timed arousal as it went.

Each teasing touch felt like it made his heart beat just a little bit faster, and he could feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and under the foam on his upper lip. His body grew warmer, worked up in response to the intimacy, the delicate, tender way you handled both him and the potential weapon. And then it happened.

He squirmed slightly, hoping to adjust himself in a way that prevented his growing erection from becoming obvious. If he could keep your focus on his face, on the job at hand, then he might be able to calm himself down before he embarrassed himself. But the more you touched, the more aroused he became, hard against the front of his pants, and then, disaster occurring as his precum leaked out, staining a tiny mark on the front at his crotch.

Eddie's mind quickly flitted through the catalogue of quick excuses he could think of. He could play this off as a natural reaction. An expected response to someone touching him and being this close to him. Nothing to do with you or his deep attraction to you.

He could admit that the intimacy was exciting, allow a sliver of vulnerability to show as he confessed that it was one area that he wasn't all that experienced in.

Throw a curveball? Tell you that the danger was far more arousing that he imagined? That could backfire though, as he was well aware of how irritating he was, and inciting, or inviting, violence might not go as well for him as he hoped it might.

And finally, the ridiculous notion of proudly displaying the effect of your touch flashed through and was quickly stomped out. There was no way he would be able to play it off with any amount of confidence or charisma, and it would take a considerable amount indeed. But now it was in his head, the idea that you might be encouraged, enticed, by his arousal. Enough that it would strike a chord within you, making you as hot and needy as he was. That you might letyour hand trail down the front of his shirt, fingers skimming over the growing, throbbing bulge, offering, perhaps, to shave there too. To finish him off with a flourish. To hold him, touch him, until he-

"Edward?"

He snapped his head towards you, cheeks flushed and pupils wide as he came bck down to earth from his flight of fantasy.

"Edward, are you alright? You didn't answer..."

"I'm fine. my mind was elsewhere. You know how it is being a genius, or... you don't actually. But if you did, you'd know it was difficult to stop your brain from rattling through equations and plans and world changing ideas. So forgive me if I automatically reverted to paying attention to that instead of you."

Deciding to meet him with his own attitude, you tossed a towel towards him as you walked towards the sink, dropping the razor in as you spoke.

"Well, if that's a close enough shave you can wipe the foam off now. And maybe use the towel to clean yourself up further down too."

You had noticed. And you were teasing him.

And worse than that, the insolence, the cruel taunt that suggested you considered yourself good enough to stand toe to toe with him, he found that it only made him harder.

#YEAH I NAMED IT AFTER WALLACE AND GROMIT WHAT OF IT #finnie writes #arkham riddler #arkham edward nigma #riddler x reader #arkhamverse riddler #the riddler #arkhamverse #riddler #the riddler imagine #riddler smut #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x you #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma #arkham!riddler #the riddler fanfiction #arkham!verse

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styluswritesdc · 24 days ago

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Hi, I've read all your posts and I loved them all. Now, we could have the DC villains with their love, who is a vigilante (female reader), find a child and, as a result, they begin to raise him together. ❤️

thank you so much that's so sweet :(

this is fun considering another child related request I received recently! luckily for this child they have you here to influence the rogues! if there's any specific character you'd like and/or anything fleshed out Lemme know!

Riddler/Edward Nygma

oh no. nonono we're not keeping it.

nono! he's not gonna hear it! he doesn't care how much you want it!

...well okay.. you've worn him down.. but don't expect him to "hang out" with "it"

okay he deserved that smack but seriously why are you doing this to yourself! he's enough of a child as is!

Don't let it get its narstie child hands on his stuff! its not a toy >:(

Despite all of that, it is quite sweet when they start warming up to each other.. he's showing them how to solve basic puzzles and trying not to be too critical (extremely hard for him so please be patient).

he will be getting them a tiny green suit tailored along with a matching bowler and cane. so cute.

imagine this asshole showing up for parent teacher meetings and being the poor teacher who "had the nerve" to give his kid less than an A+

he's a bit emotionally unavailable but tries to make up with it through quality time. be this teaching them programming, computer science, and playing board games.

Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane

ugh you really want it?? fine. but you have to take care of it, feed it and walk it.

I've always imagined him being that odd uncle who's off-putting because he's literally insane but other than that he's cool..

he will teach them reading, writing, spelling and basics like that.

this child will have half the house off limits as Jon's paranoid they'll touch/break some of his lab tech or worst case scenario come in contact with some of his toxins.

he understood terror at an early age and will not want to inflict that on his own child.

with his background, he also studied child psychology so he understands the importance of his presence in their life.. despite how reluctant he may feel about it.

will read them bedtime stories. he's surprisingly good at the voices!

imagine how much fun Halloween will be for this kid! despite how many schemes he might have for the bat and Gotham, this kid will have a whole day dedicated to them. trick or treating and age appropriate films will ensue!

TwoFace/Harvey Dent

okay I can see this going one or two (haha) ways. either this guy is like "no absolutely not" or they decide to try turn over a new leaf.

They will not be their father. end of.

they will be present, loving and kind. no voices will ever be raised towards this kid.

he would, for the first time in awhile, be conscious of his scarring. its a brilliant tool for crime, he looks scary and intimidating.

but as a father? they don't want to be stared at in public, scare other children in the park or at their child's school... and most of all, they don't want their child to be embarrassed or ashamed of them.

they want to be an actual family.

Harvey is doing most of the talking and fronting now. Harv is still present, as he always was, watching over Harvey as alters do.

Harv's fond of the child. believe me, if any harm came to them from either rogue, thug or GCPD, Big Bad Harv will make his comeback.

Black Mask/Roman Sionis

Oh okay you want it? sure doll... just like, keep it away from his office, yeah?

Honestly he's kind of chill about the whole thing, almost indifferent.

at first he's lowkey expecting you to get bored and that'll be the end of it.. but when you don't, suddenly he's kind of freaking out.

its like when dads are calm during the pregnancy but when the baby's coming its actually happening and they panic.

He's worried about safety even more now. this is an extremely paranoid man. now its increased tenfold.

this child is going to have bodyguards galore. to and from school, when they're outside, hell- they sneeze and they'll have a tissue handed to them by one!

No matter how much you protest he's going to spoil this kid. no matter what they want. oh? they're six and want a pink elephant? done. they want a fully functional crane for their sandbox? already in the post.

kind of emotionally unavailable because he's so connected to crime he wants you and your child to not miss him too much if he dies.

Bane

Oh hell yeah he's down. excellent lineage! this kid will be powerful and strong! but still, they will have a childhood.

he's such a good dad :( it actually makes me sad.

he's nurturing. both within the ring and outside of it.

this child will be strong physically, mentally and emotionally.

this massive man has a humungous heart. yes, to others he's calculating, stoic and reserved.

but he will be going to the park with this kid and getting on the fucking seesaw. that's such a funny image oh my god. could you imagine being another parent and seeing that??

he raises this child to be a protector from bullies and an advocate for themself too.

despite all this he is TOTALLY that dad who loses his mind when doing Math homework. MATH IS MATH why did they suddenly change it?? when did long division get so convoluted??

the child will cry, as did we all. but they'll go and get ice cream after to cheer them up :)

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ilovetheriddler · 1 year ago

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The Different Riddlers on a date at an amusement Park. Mini fic Scenarios.

Oh boy! That's a lot of riddle loving menaces! These are all short little mini fic scenarios centered around the idea of an amusement park date!

Word Count: 2,160.

Contents: Kissing, mentions of puking briefly, highly suggestive themes but nothing too explicit.

Gotham.

Just where had Ed wandered off to? You weren't quite sure, and it was honestly making you a bit worried. You knew how much he had been looking forward to this date, planning it months in advance to be just perfect, so the idea that he'd just leave without a word confused you.

You attempted to call his phone a few times, only to be met with his voice mail, where on earth had he run off to? You tried looking through the crowd for him and were starting to lose hope of finding him until you felt a hand grab your wrist and pull you along with them. By the time your mind fully registered that it was Edward, you were already sitting down, with a bar being lowered in front of you.

"E-Edward?! Where were you?"

"Huh? Oh! I was looking for the ferris wheel! I couldn't find anything about where it would be located on their website, so I wanted to find it as soon as we got here."

You let out a slightly surprised yelp as you felt yourself moving. As you saw the ground getting further and further away from your feet, you realized that you were on the ferris wheel. He had wandered off, found it, and dragged you to it after that. You couldn't help but chuckle.

"Ed, you could have just told me that when we first got here! Why were you so excited for the ferris wheel anyway?"

"Well... I thought it would be a pleasant experience! You know? I find the circular motion to be the perfect mixture of soothing and exciting, plus I get to be close to you... so there's that as well..."

He threw one of his arms around your shoulders and pulled you slightly closer before his lips met yours in a sweet and prolonged kiss.

Batman: The Animated Series.

Edward had been extremely pleased when he found out that there was a small arcade within the amusement park, nothing super fancy, just some older arcade cabinet games, but he was thrilled and you thought it was really sweet how clearly overjoyed he was.

He was currently on his third game, having already acquired the top scores on the previous two. They were puzzle games, which explained why the small little acarde section was practically a ghost town. Not too many people going to an amusement park were really going to play older puzzle games. But these were exactly the type of things that Edward loved.

"My dear! Look at that, I've bested yet another person's score. My skills at this are truly unrivaled."

"I can see that, I'm glad that you're having fun... I was honestly a bit worried that you might not enjoy coming here..."

"Nonsense! This is the most amusement that I've had outside of my own riddles in a long time!"

You couldn't stop yourself from giggling as he pulled you to sit on his lap as he continued playing away on the acarde games. You felt your face heat up slightly as he started kissing your neck gently.

"E-Edward! We're in public!"

"Don't worry, my dear, I'm not going to go too far, just a few kisses here and there.... and besides, there's not exactly anyone else in this specific section. Now, is there?"

His soft and just slightly mischievous laugh rang out right next to your ear as he continued his kisses on your neck and trailed them down to your shoulder.

Arkhamverse.

You had honestly thought that Edward would turn down your idea for an amusement park date, so when he did actually agree to go, you were incredibly excited..... Keyword being were... You genuinely loved Edward so much, but being slung around in a bumper car as he repeatedly slammed into other cars with enough force to almost give you whiplash wasn't exactly what you had in mind!

But you couldn't lie, seeing Eddie with that Grin on his face, cackling to the point where several people were onlooking with deep concern, was truly all it took to make it worth it. At least he was enjoying himself.

"Ahaha! These Imbecilic fools are no match for my excellent driving skills!!"

"....Eddie, your license has been revoked on several different occasions...."

"Only because of the fact that the people of Gotham city can't handle my superiority, so they try to restrict me!"

You continued to be swung around like a rag doll for another thirty minutes until the staff had received enough complaints and forcefully removed the two of you from the park. Going as far as to Ban Edward for life as a precaution. He wasn't pleased about it, not at all.

A few days later, you'd walked into his lair and found him frantically constructing his own version of the bumper cars, specifically to use in one of his traps for the caped crusader. You noticed a man tied to a chair on the other side of the room, the same man that had thrown you both out and banned him.

"Eddie...? Why exactly do you have that guy tied up?"

"It's very simple, I needed a guinea pig to test out my latest project!"

You knew that it was better to pick and choose your battles with Edward, so while you did feel sorry for the poor amusement park worker, it was late and you didn't want to argue over it, so you just went back to bed.

Telltale.

Edward had been on the fence about whether he actually wanted to join you on your trip to the amusement park. He wasn't exactly a young fellow anymore, so walking around all day didn't sound too pleasant. However, he did suppose that he should spend some time with you doing something that you wanted since you've been such a good assistant when it came to his plans.

So despite this being meant as a sort of reward for you, he didn't miss a single opportunity to complain about his joint pain and about how hot out it was, as if he hadn't willingly chosen to wear an outfit with a lot of layers. Luckily, though you didn't mind, you were used to Edward's complaints and were just glad that he was spending time with you.

Much to both your and his own surprise, he genuinely enjoyed the log flume of all rides, He could sit down and relax, and occasionally being splashed by the water made the heat slightly more bearable. He ended up going on that same ride a few times in a row before the two of you decided to take a small break on a bench nearby.

"So um... Thank you so much, Edward. I honestly didn't think that you'd even want to come here with me..."

".... I didn't originally intend to. However, I decided that you deserved a bit of my presence... as a reward for your recent work...."

You leaned against his shoulder, which seemed to throw him off slightly, before he quickly regained his composure and chuckled at the sight. He threw his arm around your shoulders and pulled you to lean in a bit closer before pressing a quick kiss onto your forehead.

2022 Batman.

Edward could hardly believe it when you told him that you wanted to take him out on a date to an amusement park. He'd never been to one before, so he was extremely excited! Not only because of the fact that he always wanted to do things like this as a child but couldn't, but because he'd be doing it with you, it'd be an actual date!

He was originally fairly nervous about the idea of how some of the rides would be, but once you both got there, he found himself having quite a pleasant time! Until you got to the Rollercoasters, then it went from a pleasant time to an amazing time! You were both screaming quite loudly while on them, but it was different for both of you. Edward had this look in his eyes, a look of unbridled gleefulness. He looked ecstatic as you both rode the Rollercoaster. In fact, he insisted on riding it another ten times!

You couldn't help but wonder if the reason why he was enjoying it so much had anything to do with the adrenaline his brain was producing as a result? Perhaps it was giving him a feeling that was somewhat similar to how his actions as the riddler made him feel? There was no way to be sure. He was overjoyed as you both got off the ride again. Unfortunately, you had to run over to the nearest trash can, feeling horribly queasy after being forced to endure a rollercoaster eleven times in a row. Edward looked extremely concerned as he approached you and started rubbing your back, attempting to help you through your nausea.

"A-are you alright, my dear? W-was that too many times? I'm so sorry if I overdid it...."

"...It's fine, Eddie. I'm just happy to see that you're enjoying yourself.... but yeah, after the seventh time, it might have been a bit much...."

Zero Year.

You were extremely skeptical and a bit cautious of wherever Edward was dragging you off to, He hadn't seemed all that interested in the amusement park a few minutes ago... what could he have possibly seen or stumbled upon to suddenly shift his mood so drastically?

You were even more confused when he stopped in front of a currently shut down maze of mirrors. You felt chills run down your spine as you glanced over at him to question what exactly he was planning, only to see that mischievous look in his eyes... whatever it was wasn't good if he had that look in his eyes, you could at least say that for certain.

He wandered inside, and you followed behind him. Just what was he planning? After walking for a few minutes, you started to grow frustrated. Perhaps he simply did this to annoy and inconvenience you. You turned around to say something but stopped dead in your tracks as you saw him unbuttoning his suit jacket before tossing it on the ground.

"E-Edward? W-what on earth are you doing?!"

He slowly stepped closer to you, a sly grin plastered on his face as he leaned in closer to you.

"Oh, come on.... there's no one around, and I'd truly be a fool not to take advantage of all of these... mirrors, wouldn't I, my dear?"

"Excuse me?! I bring you to an amusement park, and your first idea is to have sex in a shutdown maze of mirrors?!"

He disregarded his shirt on top of his suit jacket before moving on to unbuckle his belt. His breath drifted across your ear as he lowered his voice to sultry whisper.

"Precisely.... Don't lie to me and say that you aren't the least bit aroused by the idea...?"

The bad thing is that he wasn't wrong.... and that bothered you more than anything else.

Unfortunately, the two of you ended up being banned for life once a worker who was cleaning up the area stumbled upon you two in the throes of passion. Edward seemed unbearably smug, though. Even as you were both thrown out.

Young Justice.

Edward was overjoyed by your invitation to go to the amusement park together, it would be your and his first ever official date, and he was confident that it would be perfect... alright, maybe not fully confident, somewhat confident... he wasn't actually confident, that was a lie, he was deeply worried about something screwing up the entire date.

So he kept his eyes open, watching the area with a keen eye, he'd let this date be ruined over his dead body! As the date contained on there seemingly wasn't any major issues... Until he realized that there was a tunnel of love here and that you really wanted to go on it with him.

He was ultimately unable to say no, so the two of you got on the ride, sat down in those stupid little boats, and started floating along the long, dimly lit corridor. Actually.... the atmosphere would be absolutely perfect for stealing a few kisses from you. Yes, it'd be perfect!

He put his previous concerns behind him as he grabbed you suddenly and slammed his lips against yours, an intense passion behind the kiss. It lasted a few seconds before he pulled away to catch his breath, only to then reconnect them again and again. It was everything he had hoped that it would be. However, then the ride stopped suddenly, and he was sent falling off the boat and into the water, soaking his clothes.

"Damn it!! C-can't those idiots run a ride correctly?!"

"Are you alright, Eddie? That was quite a sudden fall...."

You helped him back onto the boat, but now he felt that his pride was damaged slightly, so he just sat there and sulked in his drenched suit, his favorite suit!

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mimicmimikyuwrites · 1 year ago

Text

There's A First For Everything - Edward Nashton (The Riddler) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You've been dating Edward for a few months now, and you're finally ready to take a more intimate step in your relationship with him. His lack of experience, as well as yours, leads to a clumsy, yet enjoyable night neither of you will forget. (Alternatively: two virgins have sex for the first time.)

Contents/Possible Warnings: P in V sex, Loss of virginity, Reader is a virgin, Edward is also a virgin, unprotected sex, creampie, handjob, singular mention of alcohol consumption (no one is drunk/tipsy), soft sex, slight praise kink, fluff, SMUT, MDNI

Other Notes: I haven't written anything in months, so my apologies if this isn't too good. Trying to get back into the swing of things. Enjoy!! 💚

It had only been a little under half a year since you had met and befriended Edward after meeting him through a friend of yours who worked with him, and about three months since you started dating him, but you had never fallen for someone so strong and quickly before. He was timid, and at times a bit awkward, but past that he held an intelligence and sweetness that made your heart fill to the brim and swell with a wonderful feeling of pure admiration and love that made you wonder how you previously lived without it.

As much as it pained you to admit, you've never been good at relationships. Whether it be your own fears or a lack of genuine connection between you and your partner at the time, something always left things ending sooner than you'd have liked them to. For the first time in what felt like ages, though, you were finally seeing a glimmer of hope in your love life.

You loved him, and that made you believe the concept of there being "the one" truly existed. You wanted to love him in every way you possibly could, and you wanted him to do the same to you. Your newfound love made you a lot more bolder, too.

"Do you want to stay the night at my place?" You blurted out one night after a particularly successful dinner date, feeling a lot more confident in yourself than you usually did. Maybe the small glass of wine you had earlier also helped you along.

"Oh?" Is all he could respond with, mesmerizing emerald green eyes widening a tiny bit in shock that he quickly tried to hide behind a more casual look. Despite his attempted change in expression, you had caught on quick to the sudden apprehension that overtook him, as well as the way he tried to keep his calm. For a split second, you thought you had fucked up and made him uncomfortable. Then he smiled, a light blush covering his cheeks.

A smile. That's a good sign. God, I hope it's a good sign.

"Are you sure?—" He questioned, quickly cutting himself off and averting his gaze as he seemed to regret what he just said. "That was—I'm– I didn't mean to be rude—" He stammered out, stumbling over his words. "Im not good at these things, I'm sorry." He apologized with a nervous laugh, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'm not good at them, either," You reassured, smiling sheepishly as it was your turn to blush. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to." You looked away, trying to suppress your growing anxiety.

Fuckfuckfuck, what If I tried to move too fast and—

"I want to." He said, trying to act casual, excitement given away only by the way he grinned at you, blush on his face now worsened in the best way possible. "Lead the way."

You were lucky your apartment was only a short walk away from the restaurant, or else you may have died on the walk home from the eager, nervous racing of your heart. There was a first for everything in life, and you were tired of waiting for this first to come to you on its own. You were determined to make it happen; no backing out when you wanted it so much, especially with him.

Everything moved quickly once you had unlocked your door and closed it behind you, leaving only the two of you. You took full advantage of your sudden burst of confidence, even if it was steadily decreasing as you entered further into new territory. You kissed him with passion which he eagerly reciprocated, the kiss only deepening as you led him further into your apartment and into your bedroom.

It was when your back was to the bed and your shirt was thrown somewhere to the ground along with his own that you hesitated. It was new, and it was as scary as it was amazing. You broke the kiss, holding his face gently in your hands as you both paused, looking into each other's eyes with a shared apprehension and desire for the other.

"I've never done this before," You told him with a soft smile. "Be gentle, but not too gentle." He took a deep breath upon hearing the information that he'd be your first. You'd be his, something he craved since the day he met you, but it was also something he didn't believe he deserved. You thought he was perfect? He thought you were an angel, the only light in the whole of Gotham, and the whole of his life. To him, he was beyond repulsive. Some type of vermin born from the depths of Gotham's filth.

You saw the way he sunk into his thoughts, and you were fast to pull him out of them before he fell in too deep. "Hey," You mumbled, voice gentle, pulling him in closer. "What's wrong? We can stop if you don't want to go—" The pressing of his lips to yours cut you off.

"I don't deserve you," He smiled down at you, almost sadly. "Are you sure you want me to be your first? I'm...." He trailed off, looking for the right words. "I'm inexperienced, too." He carefully pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "You deserve to be given the best, I don't want to ruin such an important moment for you."

You kissed him lovingly in reply. "You won't ruin it," You comforted. "I want you more than anything or anyone else, even if we're both a bit clumsy or awkward." Your once reassuring smile then turned into a more seductive look as you helped move his slightly shaky hands to the clasp of your bra, helping him undo it and letting the garment slip off. "Don't be afraid, Eddie. You can touch as much as you want, honey."

'Honey.' That single word made his heart warm. He'd do anything to hear you say that again. Anything to hear that makes him feel just as loved and just as wanted. You were an angel. His angel.

He reached out a hand, touching your breast experimentally, enjoying your light moan as his thumb brushed over your nipple. You were soft and warm he realized at that moment, and the closeness of you both felt like bliss. He wanted to be even closer, and you felt the same.

You tugged off each other's pants, the clothing joining the growing pile on the floor of your bedroom. It was just two pairs of thin fabric separating the two of you now, and you were equally as ready to close the gap.

You were the first to make the move, pulling his boxers down and letting his hardened cock spring out. It wasn't overly large by any means, but it was certainly above average. It almost intimidated you, but fuck did you want it inside of you. You were growing wetter by the second.

You looked up at him for permission, which he granted, before wrapping your hand around the base of his cock and slowly stroking it, being as experimental with your touches as he was with his. He groaned, head leaning back and his eyes screwing shut as you continued your movements, steadily increasing your pace.

"Does that feel good, Eddie?" You purred into his ear, taking pleasure in the myriad of noises slipping from his mouth. He let out a whiny 'Mhmm' in response, head beginning to cloud with ecstasy. He was a smart man, smarter than anyone else you knew, but you were turning him ditsy with your touch.

"S-Stop—" He stuttered out, bringing you to a halt. "D-Dont wanna cum yet–" He said hurriedly, watching your hand leave him. He took a small moment to reign himself back in, bringing himself further away from the edge. Once he was calm enough, he began to pull down your panties, soaked from your arousal. It ignited a sort of pride in him to see just how much of an effect he had on your body.

You helped him line up with your waiting entrance. It was now or never. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, a long moan muffled against you as he finally sunk into your pussy. You gasped at the feeling, the stretch unusual but causing pleasure to shoot through you.

"Fuck!" You cursed, nails instinctively digging into his back in an attempt to ground yourself. "How are you so big?" You moaned out, whimpering in pleasure as you felt him begin to move slowly. "E-Eddie—"

"Does it feel good for you, too?" He asked in a voice shaky from pleasure, hips slowly rocking against yours. "A-Am I doing this right?"

You pulled him into a kiss, moaning into it along with him as you pulled him in close, bodies melding into each other in a yearning for as much intimacy as possible. It was just the two of you in this moment, and neither of you ever wanted it to end. It wasn't just sex, it never was, you were showing each other just how much love was felt between you, even if it was still relatively new.

"You're so tight," He whimpered, body shaking as he struggled to not become entirely overwhelmed by the experience. "Feel so good. I love you. Love you so much." He began to speed up, a mixture of desperate noises leaving him as he tried to get more and more of you. "C-Close— 'm gonna cum soon–"

His finish was speeding towards him faster with each thrust into you, and you weren't far behind. Still, you weren't as close as he was. You needed just a little bit more to push you over that edge you needed so badly to cross. You found one of his hands, bringing it to your clit. "Slowly," You instructed, letting him rub at the sensitive bud. "Just like that, Eddie." You praised, back arching as a new layer of sensation was added to the experience.

It took less than a minute before he came with a whine of your name, the feeling of his thick cum spilling deep into your pussy triggering your own orgasm. The feeling coursed through your body, consuming you in never had before. He continued to move against you until both of your climaxes subsided, leaving you both pleasantly exhausted as you came down from your highs.

He pulled out, snuggling up beside you as you sat in a comfortable silence. Your eyes fluttered shut as you smiled to yourself. You had finally done it, and it was even more rewarding than you expected it to be. You were satisfied and in love, and nothing felt better.

"Don't fall asleep on me," Edward mumbled softly, a small smile on his face as he pressed a light kiss to your shoulder. "I want to cuddle a bit longer." You leaned into him, face nuzzling into his chest.

You wouldn't trade this moment for the world.

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