#edward nigma x reader

[finniestoncrane]

Can you do a oneshot of Arkham Knight Riddler eating reader out? He needs to eat. And I need a dirty, greasy, disgusting man to violate me with his tongue. I want his to have to wipe the cum and drool as it dribbles down his chin. Absolutely NASTY!

Snack

Arkham!Riddler x Fem!Reader, word count: 450 just a lil oneshot, just a lil snack u-u listen i've done it before and i'll do it again lmao if there's one thin i won't get tired of it's eddie eating pussy!! also it's fem!reader but there's no gendered language, so anyone with a vagina who doesn't mind the word pussy should be all good request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: oral sex, a bit of fingering, mentions of overstim

Eddie rolled his tongue, almost wave like, making the muscle pulse and curve from the back to the tip against your dripping cunt. Each lap made you wail, your fingers curled into his hair, tugging at the root as you pushed him to you and pulled him away when you could feel yourself getting too close to your inevitable orgasm.

From the moment he'd fallen to his knees in front of you, you had been close. Desperate. Wet. You could feel your clit twitching as he pulled off your pants, then your underwear. Feel your inside aching as he lifted your legs up and placed them on his deceptively strong shoulders. Let your jaw drop, a howling wail coming out of your open mouth as he used his thumbs to spread your lips apart.

Now, you were soaking, your entire body throbbing, muscles tensing as they waited for your release. Eddie worked at it, his thin lips circling your clit as he inserted a finger inside of you, another joining it quickly after. The way he spread you open, devouring you as though he were actually starving made your heart pound, your stomach flip, your vision going blurry as you got closer to the edge of the intense climax that felt as though it choked you.

You were clouded by your orgasm, brain fogged with only the notion of seeking pleasure coming into focus, but you still stole a look down towards Eddie. As though he sensed you watching him, he looked up towards you, steely blue eyes glinting with his malicious glee. He removed his fingers from you, using the back of the same hand to wipe his chin which was slick with your cum, dripping with his own drool.

Every second he spent away from you was agonising, threatening to dull the release that had been building up. But you felt his sharp nose come into contact with your once again, his stubbled cheeks between your thighs, dark brown hair tickling your skin as he dove back in, pressing his tongue in and out of you, moaning as he fucked you with his mouth.

With a sharp squeal you came, quivering under his continued touch, overstimulated almost immediately after your body settled back down. But Eddie kept going, chuckling to himself, not quite satisfied and certain you had more to give him. He pulled away briefly, only long enough to reassure you in a cruel, teasing tone that felt like he was purposefully mocking your pathetic desperation.

"If you want me to stop, you only have to ask. 'Please, Mister Nigma, Sir. I've had enough.' Say it loud and clear."

He only offered you the out as he was confident you wouldn't take it, smiling smugly to himself as you grabbed him by his hair and pushed him back into you.

[acapelladitty]

Edward Nygma/Reader - Beating

Summary - Beaten and in pain, Edward comes to you to be taken care of.

Her weight in his lap is welcomed despite the way in which it makes the ache which sits at the base of his spine feel much more pronounced.

“Poor baby.”

A soft comment, one which seemed at odds with the pure arousal which dripped free of her features as she cradled his face in her hands. Never one to hide her true feelings, her excitement at seeing how battered he was wasn’t wholly unexpected. He had even held himself back from presenting himself more favourably before arriving at her door, knowing that it would garner more of an earnest reaction.

Her hands had been quick to pull him to her plush sofa, his body screaming its protest at the quick movement as he sat; quickly finding himself enveloped by her warmth and the familiar scent of coffee and pine which seemed to pulse in the air around her.

Sinking into the comfort of her presence, he exhaled a shaky breath which masked a collection of woes as her ass pressed against his half-hard cock.

“I don’t think Dent and I will be on speaking terms for a while after this.” He muttered and his arms wrapped themselves around her waist, pulling her as close as he dared without adding the pressure of her weight to his numerous developing bruises.

“I’m sure he looks worse than you do.” She commented wryly, the palms of her hands massaging his chest through the torn shirt. “I bet he’s home alone right now, flipping that coin like a right sad bastard.”

Humming, Edward enjoyed the mental image for a moment. “Others may have me, but I cannot be shared.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded nasally and he wondered if his nose was truly broken by the wretched elbow which had collided with it.

“Loneliness.” She replied in a heartbeat, having heard it before, and he smiled at her – the slight movement opening up the cut which lay on his lower lip.

A fools errand as she pulled at his face in a swift movement and the pressure on his nose as she mashed her lips against his own made him see stars as the pain radiated in such a way that his breath caught in his lungs and his body went stiff.

Her thumb moved quickly, swiping away the droplet of blood which gathered in the corner of his mouth and he sighed as his cock twitched at the gentle contact.

At her request, he tilted his head to the side, allowing her to run the soft pad of her finger along the raised welt which decorated his cheek. The coolness of her fingers was welcome against the throbbing flesh and he adjusted her in his lap, attempting to subtly shift his cock so that it lay behind her ass and wouldn’t encourage her to too much foolishness.

“Oops.” She whispered the apology into his ear, her teeth worrying at the lobe to let him know that she wasn’t very sorry at all. Rather, her hand snaked down his body until she readjusted enough to tug as his belt. “Want me to kiss it better?”

Heat lancing through his groin at the thought of her kissing all his injuries better, Edward allowed common sense to prevail even as her hand dropped to cup at his aching cock - her unfettered interest making his length twitch with interest despite his pains.

“I don’t think I’ll survive you having your way with me, dear.” He mumbled into her neck, taking great care to only touch her skin with bleeding lips and not his throbbing nose. “But if a bath were on the cards then I would allow you to play nurse and see to my many grievous injuries.”

“Nurse Ratched more like.”

In a bolt of movement, she was off him and the suddenness of her departure caused his aching shoulder to creak dangerously and the open wound on his leg, which had paused in its bleeding, to start up once again.

Holding back a groan, he watched her disappear into the bathroom with a determined smile playing on her full lips as his own stretched into a fond grimace and he sighed.

[yaztheangel]

‘Riddle me this, riddle me that, who says I can’t defeat the big bad bat?’ —>

Most Wanted

[hxney-lemcn]

would you ever do a gotham [pre-riddler] ed nygma x a gn reader oneshot?? like the readers an assistant M.E. to dr. thompkins and they let ed come and help them examine bodies or something like that idk

btw i love ur fics ur writing styles rlly nice <333‼️

Gotham! Edward Nygma Befriending gn! M.E. assistant! reader

tw: mentions of death and dead bodies.

a/n: ok, so my requests aren't open but since I'm in a riddler mood I decided to write this anyways lol. Also, ik you said one shot but headcanons worked out better for me. I'm glad you like my fics sm! This can be seen as platonic or romantic

wc: 0.4k

Master List

❥When you were first hired as an assistant M.E., you hadn’t expected to stumble upon the forensic scientist examining the body you were supposed to. It was your first assignment on your own, given to you by Dr. Leslie Thompkins. He stood there, hands inside the body, his hair slightly falling into his face. You weren’t sure how to proceed as you both just stared at each other awkwardly. 

❥That’s how you met Edward Nygma. The lovely dork of the precinct. He was surprised when you didn’t raise your voice. You didn’t give him a dirty look and you didn’t ask him to leave. No, in fact, he couldn’t believe his ears when you asked him to help. It was your first time being unsupervised after all, so it was comforting that someone who also seemed knowledgeable in your field was there. 

❥What you thought was a one time thing ended up happening more often than you thought. Ed would join you, help you inspect the body, then take anything he needed to analyze as the forensic scientist. It became routine. The times he wasn’t there felt off, though he did have his own job to do. You enjoyed his presence. Being surrounded by death on the daily, his odd mannerisms and riddles brought some life into the environment. 

❥The first time Dr. Thompkins, or Lee as she insisted, walked in on you two hovering over a body, she wasn’t surprised in the slightest. She didn’t even pause to process. Why would she? She had put two and two together forever ago. At first you were mortified. It was your duty to make sure policies and protocols were being followed so that any evidence found couldn’t be thrown out. You and Ed were definitely breaking protocol. He wasn’t trained after all.

❥She just continued on like it was the norm. In fact, it was the norm. Ed had been doing this since before she was hired after all. Best to just let him. He knew what he was doing after all. It got to the point that if anyone needed Ed, they’d just go to the M.E. lab. He was there 9/10 times after all.

❥It didn’t help that Ed found himself liking your presence. You never judged him, you weren’t afraid to ask him for help, and most of all, you didn’t push him away for his ‘unusual’ mannerisms. You genuinely tried to answer his riddles. You never got short with him, and if you couldn’t handle them you would tell him upfront. He thought of you as his safe space. Before, the M.E. lab was a safe space solely due to the bodies being like riddles. He found solace in trying to piece together the puzzle of how and why someone was killed. Now, you were a part of that.

[lonleydweller]

Could I have hcs for BTAS!Riddler falling in love with a reader who is a huge fan of his game, Riddle of the Minotaur? The Reader is famous for being the greatest player in the world at it, no one has even come close to their level, ever. They even said that they would love to meet the creator someday, they think whoever made all the puzzles and riddles in that game must have been some kind of godly genius!!

🌹BTAS Riddler falling in love with the top player of Riddle of the Minotaur🌹

This took me a bit to write, but I love this idea!

!Warnings!: none

-----------------------------------------------------

●After Mockridge took the rights of the game from Edward, he didn't check the top scores of the game as often. Too busy with revenge, however- every few months he'd check the scoreboard. He always saw the same name at the top, second place still far behind.

●He was curious as to who the person could be, but he was a busy man. With fighting the bat, going after mockridge, and scheming he simply didn't have enough motivation to waste his time. At first.

●That was until you started getting in the papers, getting interviews, and gaining traction. That's when his intrest was fully piqued. There was finally a name, a face, and a person to the username that always stood high on the leader boards.

●He tunes into the interview. He's almost immediately enamored by your words and flattery. He hears you mention how you'd just love to meet the creator of Riddle of the Minotaur.. well he can arrange the can't he?

●The next morning you'll be greeted by a message when you open Riddle of the Minotaur, a pop up displaying a series of riddles. Decode them and you get a personal invite to meet the creator of the game- Edward Nygma himself!

●When you inevitably show up, he welcomes you- he'll most likely meet you in the Riddle of the Minotaur Maze he originally made for mockridge. All with the dangerous parts deactivated, he'd hate for his guest to accidentally set off one of the traps.

●He'll question you about how you got into the game, what drew you to it? Anything you want to tell him? Once he let's you ramble for a bit, he'll question you with some riddles. In return he expects you to ask him questions, good ones, and to listen as he did for you.

●He'll ramble on about the creation of the game, the various puzzles, scrapped content, the betrayal of mockridge, and run ins with the bat and his bird brained sidekick- oh, what's this, you want to ask him a riddle? Well go ahead.

●He solves it within a matter of seconds as expected with a smug smile. As the night drones on, the conversation slowly drifts from the game and your skills to more personal things. Such as jobs, hobbies, pets, likes, and dislikes. Time flies when you're having fun sadly, soon enough you two will haft to depart for the night.

●The next morning you'll find an update for Riddle of the Minotaur. You look online, how strange, no one else got the update. Only you. The update includes harder riddles, less lives, less time. Some of the riddles also seem oddly flirty.. how interesting. Lucky you! It appears this may just be the start of something more.

-----------------------------------------------------

[candied-heartss]

𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

(ᵗʰᵉ ʳⁱᵈᵈˡᵉʳ ˣ ᶠᵉᵐ! ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ)

𝖽𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇: 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗅, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋..

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ (𝗠𝗗𝗡𝗜), 𝗸𝗶𝗱𝗻𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗮 𝘁𝗮𝗱 𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗱𝘂𝗯𝗰𝗼𝗻, 𝗸𝗻𝗶𝗳𝗲𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆, 𝗱𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝘀𝗹𝘂𝘁𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗯𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵 𝗽𝗲𝗻𝗲𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗼𝗿𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅 (𝗺 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗲𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴), 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴

You slowly regained consciousness, eyes blinking once, twice, three times before finally opening up fully to look around your area. You were in an unknown person's room, laying on a grimy mattress on the even dirtier floor with your hands bound behind your back with duct tape, with your mouth being restrained with more of the silver adhesive.

"Oh good," a deep voice crooned, "you're awake. I thought I would have to slap you awake myself, but you made my job so much easier for me."

Your eyes widen in terror and shock as you scramble to sit up, using your legs as guidance. Beneath the makeshift gag, you whimper anxiously as the man clad in a green army jacket with a question mark crudely painted onto its surface, heavy trousers with even heavier boots, and a mask that covered his whole face, save for his eyes, which were protected by clear-framed glasses.

You whine again in fear, looking up at the man, trying to back away, but he comes closer, bending down to look at you. Only then, did it dawn on you how tall he was and how it made you feel small yourself, even though you were of average height.

"Oh, look at you. You're scared, aren't you?" He observed, reaching out a gloved hand and brushing your hair away from your face. You attempted to move away from his touch only for him to harshly grip your jaw.

"Eyes up here, baby." He ordered, making you look up at him with the fear still lingering in your eyes.

He smiled at your almost instant submission, "There we go. That's a good girl. We can't have you misbehaving now, can we?"

You slowly nodded, deciding the best way not to make this man snap is to just play along.

"You're probably wondering why you're here, don't you?" he asked, stroking your cheek and looking into your eyes deeply, almost penetrating your soul with his gaze alone. You nod again and he chuckles as if this whole ordeal was highly amusing to him.

"Well, it all starts with your dear father, the one who works for the city council. It was he and his other lackeys that have been a part of the reason why this city remains the cesspool of corruption that it always has been. They've been accepting bribes from Carmine Falcone's men, all so they could fill their appetite for greed."

Your eyes widen at the man's words. No, no. This couldn't be true. Your father, your honest, caring father, collecting money from Falcone's operation? It just didn't seem right. You let out a shocked cry at his words, only to quickly shush you, cooing in your ear.

"Oh, I know, sweetheart. This must be so hard for your dumb, little brain to comprehend, but your father is not the man that you believe him to be. Your father is just like every other politician in this hellhole of a city. They all promise that change will come, a ploy to get the masses to flock to them like a herd of sheep, only to break them down, and strip them of their faith in them, all so that they can feed into the corrupt system that they created."

You shake your head, tears beginning to form in your eyes. "Please, please don't let that be true. My father is a good man... he would never do this." you thought to yourself as you looked back at him.

The man then chuckled, "But that's alright, because now that I have you..." His gloved hand went to caress your cheek, "they'll be sure to listen to the people and change their ways of exerting their power over the people."

You flinch when he comes closer to you, practically grazing your lips with his mask as he seemingly gets an idea.

"In fact, I think that I'll just keep you for now. Maybe, I'll even use you for something very special..."

You shivered at his words, wondering what he meant when he finally ripped the tape off from your lips, making you hiss in pain from the adhesive sticking to the sensitive skin. He then flips you over, so that you're in a kneeling position on your arms and legs before swiftly pulling out a thin pocket knife and dragging along the bare skin that was not covered up by the soft, cottin fabric of your underwear.

Before you can react, he swiftly swipes the knife across the fabric and seamlessly cutting it from your body, leaving you completely bare. You gasp at the cold air meeting the your hot skin and instinctively clenching your thighs together, only for him to push them back open and letting your bare cunt be exposed to him.

You cannot see him, but you can hear as he sighs in contentment, slowly reaching out and swiping a finger through your soaked folds, making you choke on your breath, before he pulls away and examines it as it glistens and drips down the padding of his gloves.

"God... Just look at that... I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already dripping. What a needy little whore you are." He chided, letting his fingers go back to your slit, but this time instead of collecting your juices, he sinks his thick fingers inside of you, making you whine at the burning stretch, having never taken anything larger than your own two fingers.

"Aww, what's the matter, sweetie? Does it hurt?" He asked her, his tone dripping with callous condescension as he speaks. When you nod, telling him how uncomfortable it feels, he simply laughs and continues to thrust his fingers in and out of you, enjoying the obscenely wet, sticky sound your juices make as it echoes through the room as your whines and moans grow louder.

He laughed again, pressing his fingers deeper inside of you and hitting that nerve within you that has you nearly screaming, keening into the mattress and bucking your hips wildly into his hand.

He sighs as his fingers to thrust harder inside of you, "C'mon baby, you've got this. You're doing so well, taking it like such a good girl for me. I think you deserve to come, don't you?" You nod frantically and whine, pushing your hips back into his hand.

You were so close, teetering on the edge of your orgasm when he pulled his fingers out of your sopping cunt, making you cry out in frustration. He merely smiles and begins to unzip his pants far enough to bring his cock out, running the head along your folds, soaking it in your juices.

"I'm going to have my way with you now, and if you struggle, I'll take my knife and cut you, piece by piece." He threatened before finally sliding inside of you in one, swift motion.

You hang your head low and sharply cried out at the feeling of his cock entering you, your walls immediately clenching around him and making him groan in pleasure. He doesn't give enough time to adjust before he begins thrusting into you, his pace wild and erratic.

"Fuck," he groans, grabbing you by the hair and pulling you up, so that your back touches his chest before he wraps a gloved hand around your throat and begins to squeeze, making you gasp for air and your walls to clench around his cock, his impending release starting to build up.

"Please," you whined, panting heavily as he continued to fuck you, "I think 'm gonna come... please let me come, sir."

He smiles underneath the masks and speaks, stroking your cheek again, "Why should I? Have you earned it?" You nod in desperation, practically begging him to let you come.

"Please, please, please, sir... 've been such a good girl for you, please lemme come for you." you practically sob as your walls continue to clench around him, your orgasm impending fast.

He then laughs and reaches down to rub your sensitive clit with his thumb, the latex of his gloves brushing up deliciously against your bundle of nerves, making you sob harder, "It's okay, baby... You've been so good for me, go on, let it go.."

At his words, you finally fall over the edge and your body tenses up as you let out a strained cry, your walls gripping his cock tightly, like a vice. He hisses at the feeling and quickly pulls out and flipping you over and situating you on your knees, gripping at his cock before forcing your mouth open and sliding it down your throat.

"Now, be a good little whore and suck my cock." He instructs, throwing his head back in ecstasy and groaning when he feels you begin to suck on him, taking him as far as your mouth would let him.

As he continues to thrust harshly into your mouth, he groans and grips your hair tightly, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

"Fuck, I'm going to come down your slutty little throat, sweetheart." He speaks to you mindlessly, before his abdomen tenses, his eyes roll back and he lets out a loud groan as he comes down your throat. He then looks down and slowly pulls out, letting some of his cum drip down your lips and onto your bare chest.

He then pulls away and grabs his Polaroid camera from a nearby table, looking down and pointing the lense at you, "Stick out your tongue, whore."

You obliged and slowly stick extend your tongue out for the camera before it goes off with a flash, capturing your face, dripping with his cum.

"God, you're the prettiest little slut in all of Gotham, baby."

[caesariawritesstuff]

Jealousy

(Arkham!Riddler x Fem!Reader)

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ●

Jealous? Edward Nigma, jealous?

Of course not. The idea is absurd. What does he have to be jealous over? He's only the World's Greatest Everything. Of all the Rogues, he’s certainly the most good-looking. His intellect is unmatched. There’s nothing he, Edward Nigma, has to be jealous over—

Until he sees the way Oswald Cobblepot is ogling you.

Edward would see red. He doesn’t like that Oswald is eyeing you up like a delicious piece of meat. But his narcissism, and his pride, won’t let him admit he’s jealous. No, of course it’s nothing. Your eyes won’t stray, will they?

But when Two-Face takes a second glance in your direction, introduces himself and calls you “doll”, Edward would see red again. His hands would start to shake, but he’d hook his thumbs around his toolbelt to keep it from showing.

Because his pride is still there. Yes, of course – why is he jealous? He, Edward Nigma, has your attention and only yours.

But when you turn to talk to Harley and Ivy, watches you laugh at something Harley said, he’d grit his teeth. His insecurities would start to set in. You weren’t laughing at him, were you? Finally, he’d step in between the three you and make some excuse to whisk you farther away from everyone else.

Then, just when he thinks your eyes are on him again, Scarecrow would step in. Cold eyes would stare you from head to toe, but he wouldn’t say anything other than, “I wonder what you fear most, my dear?”

Edward would know right away. The small implication that Johnathon Crane has taken an interest in you. “Enough, Crane,” he’d bark out.

His voice would carry across the room, get everyone else’s attention.

Oswald would laugh. “Jealous that pretty little thing is getting more attention than you, Nigma?” he’d ask.

No, no – of course that wasn’t it. Edward knew he was the greatest. But the thought of your eyes drifting from his to someone else, to that someone else pulling you away from him instead…

“Of course not, Cobblepot,” he’d snicker, wrapping one arm around your waist. Letting his gloved hand rest tightly on your hip.

The movement wouldn’t go unnoticed. The others would know exactly what his small gesture meant – that you were his and his alone. And when all eyes were on you and him, he’d turn and kiss you, soft and intimate. Just to get his point across.

After all, what does he have to be jealous for, anyways?

You’re kissing him, aren’t you?

[decaying-words]

Lapdog

All chapters Edward Nigma x Reader • 18+ Explicit • 4.4k words TW & tags: Pet play, spit play, oral sex, leg humping AO3 • All my stories

"You are still here", he notes in quasi disbelief, an unreadable expression on his face. He must have been expecting that I had left hours ago, I am sure, and yet I have no explanation to give, not even to myself. Why did I stay here, I wonder, waiting patiently for him to come back home and comfort my raw nerves, like a lover would; yet a lover I am not. Not quite anyway.

Lapdog

Painted hands of a similarly stained clock move painfully slowly, the face glaring at me mockingly. The night is cruel in its loneliness, progressing at an agonizing pace and taunting my uninteresting tasks; collecting the misplaced tools with unnecessary care and caution, gathering the wandering paper notes and organizing them in a neat pile that I know will be thoroughly demolished in an infantile desire to illustrate my incompetence and ignorance, and, finally, removing the comical amount of empty coffee mugs abandoned on various and, at times, frankly bizarre and unexpected places. 

Ever since my last fruitless experiment that ended in a copious string of creative insults resembling a degrading rosary in his ridiculing tone, the Riddler does not let me forge new projects, not until I “find the required brain cells to not waste his most precious time”, as he said. What little frustration and heartache I felt in my demotion died in a strangled whimper under his uninterested gaze, interrupting any protest I might have by demanding to leave the premises immediately. That time, I spent my sleepless night crying heavy tears, fingers grabbing my hair and tugging until my scalp felt sore.

The Riddler is absent tonight, and there is only so much to do once my mediocre tasks done. Pacing around the warehouse, my light footsteps echo in the green inferno; hand crafted machineries engulfed in a toxic hue stare at me with profound limpness, buzzing ominously in the otherwise aphonic place. Crudely painted symbols, equations and riddles adorn the fatigued floors and, more curiously, the impossibly tall walls. My interested gaze following the cryptic logorrhea ornamenting the area, my mind wanders in places I do not belong to. 

I have always wondered what Edward felt during one of these manic episodes, of which I’ve witnessed quite a few times before, always quietly and with empathy, furiously writing incomprehensible thoughts, mysterious threats and other obscure formulas; did it feel like a lifeline at the time, cautiously grounding him when his mind grew foggy ? 

I have never doubted for an instant that underneath the intricate layers of his great intelligence was a gravely sick man; beyond the burning pride and arrogance in his demeanor is hiding the weak ghost of a deeply confused man, a man profoundly afraid of the glacial emptiness of neglect, who at times struggles to recognize even himself. It is cathartic for him, I believe, when he frantically scribbles his thoughts, face perverted in anguish, eyes wide open akin to an animal, skin glistening in sweat; entire body aquiver as if terrified of forgetting who he is beyond the Riddler. Of course, he never notices my balmy gaze on him when I catch a glimpse of his broken soul; nor does he know of my intimate desire to heal him. He would find it inappropriate, I am sure, grotesque even. Foolish girl.

He did catch my gaze tonight, however, sharply dressed up for an important meeting with his peers, one I am not invited to, obviously –why would I be? He looks like a different man entirely when he abandons his filth covered shirt, sweat caked beater and stained cargo pants; his demeanor metamorphosed also, standing straight like a bow, chest swelling proudly, his gloved hands flattening his decorated tie. His tailored suit fits him beautifully, the color matching the green bowler hat that is tucked underneath his arm. 

Edward is handsome, the most handsome man I have ever seen, and while his sunken cheeks and fatigued eyes are the only remainders of his declining mental state, he conceals his insecurities with a renewed, and perhaps slightly fabricated, confidence. The crimson tip of his tongue darts past his lips in the way it always does when he’s lost in his thoughts, and my heart opens and sings inappropriate songs that flush my cheeks a ruby tint. 

This is when his eyes lay on me, cocking an amused brow at my flustered face, silently expecting a flattering comment, though he would never voice it. My mouth opens and closes, carefully picking my words so as to not upset him. You look magnificent, I confess; he seems pleased, a toothy grin spreading on his glowing face. Naively, I wish I could come with him, the insinuation of proximity, emotional or otherwise, public and absurd; the childish dream of being introduced as his assistant – his lover, a little voice in my head whispers.

You know, you remind me of a dog, is what he says; the words are meant to humiliate, a demeaning inflection in his voice, though there is no bite to them. I do not mind them; in fact, I find myself agreeing with him, smiling at him tenderly, face flushed. Edward cocks a surprised brow, as if not expecting this reaction, honest and quasi vulgar . He exhales a chuckle, a subtle twinkle in his eyes, pupils dilating slightly. I recognize this gaze, filled with a still unfamiliar arousal; he looked at me in a similar manner the last time we were intimate, when I lapped his body with a burning hunger until he came undone on my face, eventually fleeing the scene as if ashamed of his own desires. We haven’t talked about this event since, nor the one preceding it, a painful habit of his I’m afraid.

Edward shakes his head, the tip of his tongue licking his chapped lips, thinking of something indecent, I believe. To my great dismay, he will not act on these thoughts, instead putting on his bowler hat and smirking at me, bidding me goodnight, leaving me to my menial tasks.

Hours pass and undesired thoughts pile and overflow in my bored mind, cruel and anxiety inducing. I wonder, wholeheartedly embarrassed, if someone else will collect the fruits of his short-lived desire, if this will mark the end, then, of what did not even have the time to mature in this closed space. Inappropriate jealousy turns to dread and sorrow as I curl in an emotional ball, slumped in the worn-out couch, tears growing in front of my glassy eyes. 

Despite the light tremor of my bottom lip and the cruel knot building in my closed throat, I remain still with the perfect inertia of a corpse, mind turning absolutely blank, drained and hopeless, as if I ceased to exist the moment Edward left; and perhaps it is the case, the grandiose emptiness inside of me begging for him to come back. 

Suddenly, the mechanical noises reverberating in the metallic Hell become inescapable, spiteful and intolerable; the aggressive lights turn caustic, loud and vicious; all I can hear are the agonizing thoughts, the barbarous internal monologue, chest heaving as my breathing turns erratic, broken sobs strangling in my throat, body aquiver with what seems like a fatal panic attack. This place, once perceived as an embracing and loving cocoon morphs grotesquely into a diabolic pit for which I feel only hatred and disgust. My tortured mind screams in horror, heart beating furiously in my chest, and as I feel the crushing weight of time passing, I wonder when will Edward come back, and why did he leave me alone in the first place.

My body jolts in a whimper when I hear the colossal metal doors of the elevator creak, spitting a dusty cloud on the ground as it lands heavily. My weak frame contorts, alert and hopeful, craning my head to stare at the iron cage; I imagine my face being twisted in desperate relief, brow knitted tightly, eyes wide open like a traumatized animal, panting as I emerge laboriously from my panicked state. Edward quirks a brow, a perplexed frown on his closed face, considering me for a minute; he must find me disgraceful, I suppose, viciously gripping the leathery arms of the couch, the flayed expression on my face morphing into one of profound happiness.

Edward reeks of cigarette smoke, a filthy habit that conceals his natural scent. He seems surprised to see me, glancing at the watch on his wrist then at me with a questioning look, yet I offer him no answer. You are still here , he notes in quasi disbelief, an unreadable expression on his face. He must have been expecting that I had left hours ago, I am sure, and yet I have no explanation to give, not even to myself. Why did I stay here, I wonder, waiting patiently for him to come back home and comfort my raw nerves, like a lover would; yet a lover I am not. Not quite anyway.

I swallow meekly, and answer the only way I know how; with a smile, genuine and kind, happiness glowing on my face, while a dumbfounded expression shadows his. Through his round glasses, his eyes contemplate me for an instant, an impossibly green ocean licking the shores of my mind. There is a storm hiding in the horizon, even I can tell, and so I offer him an excuse, sheepishly. I missed you . It is the truth.

His reaction is immediate and what I sense nervous, barking a laugh; not quite cruel, not quite amused, but instead coming from a place of insecurity, disdain and indecision. His expression contorts, pupils dilating enough to obscure the emerald of his irises, and I feel my guts twisting. Carefully putting his bowler hat on the nearest surface, revealing his now slightly sweaty hair, Edward turns his back at me, looking in the distance, gears grinding in his mind. He reaches for his leather gloves next, long fingers fiddling with the pressure buttons, and then stops. He does not remove his gloves. 

“You truly are a dog, aren’t you?”

My entire body shivers, a burning pit gnawing at my stomach with confusing feelings, all of them caustic, perverted and exquisite. I mouth aphonic words of which I ignore the intent. There was a playful element in the inflection of his voice, and when he turns his proud silhouette to face me, there is an indecent smile on his face; one that reeks of contempt and desire. I stare at his grandiose form, lips parted and cheeks flushed from a somewhat familiar hunger; he appreciates seeing me so submissive and needy, I am sure, for he tilts his head on the side and grins wider, the question, unanswered, floating in the air still. “Well?”

There is so much left unsaid, so much left for him to create and define as he sees fit, when I realize that he looks at me expecting an answer that comes quickly, as if foolishly obvious, and yet one that sounds like a permission. “Maybe I am.”

Edward bites his bottom lip frankly, doing a particularly poor job at suppressing his wolfish smile; his gaze holds the power of a storm, breathing heavily through his flared nostrils. When he walks in my direction, each one of his steps sends a spasm to my cunt, shamefully awake and interested, until he stands in front of me, my eyes at the level of his stomach, the memory of the coarse hair hidden under his neatly tucked shirt making me salivate.

“Oh, I know you are. With how easily and quickly you were to drop on your knees, indulging in rather vulgar activities with this obscene tongue of yours.”

His voice is low and dark, the tone dripping with disdain and arousal, his words carefully crafted and picked; he takes great pleasure in seeing me squirm on the couch, muffling soft gasps when his eyes look down on me with a carnal appetite. My expression is one of false shame bordering on inappropriate satisfaction, silently confirming my crude desires. Edward’s voice is husky, shivering with an unconcealed, unmistakable thrill when he asks a question laced with all the neglected lust he once buried deeply in the graveyard of his humanity.

“And what does that make me, then?”

He wants to hear it from me . He wants to feel powerful, wants to dominate me. Taking immense pleasure in my submissive nature, breath hitching even more as his darkened gaze drills burning holes in the back of my skull, a delicate vein on his neck throbbing expectantly. Under his perfectly cut suit pants, I am certain he is hard. I hardly recognize the man who ran away from me after his uncontrolled orgasm; I wonder how much of him is still treading carefully, inexperienced and hesitant, discovering his limits, toying with mines. There is nothing less than adoration in my eyes, hoping to give him the silent reassurance and comfort he seems to seek, heart beating frantically in my chest when I mouth the desired words.

The master.

His shoulders twitch in response, a delicate flush tinting his cheeks, flustered, uncomfortable but positively euphoric . Long seconds pass before he emerges from his enchanted inertia, contemplating the possibilities, evaluating his desires; he looks beautiful in this bemused state, getting acquainted with his most intimate cravings. A part of me wants to guide him, encourage him, reassure him that I will not break easily, though I know how quickly his ego can get bruised; instead, I watch him intently, obediently, lips slightly parted. I believe he needs to be treated with patience and care, more than he needs the control; although it might be wishful thinking from a lovesick deviant.

I follow the gesture of his hand immediately as he snaps his finger and points to the ground. Of course. A dog doesn’t sit on the couch. I cannot help but notice the light tremor in his thighs when he takes my place, spreading his legs wide enough that I can crawl and kneel in between them, hands folded on my lap devotedly. 

The profound exhalation is probably louder than he expected; as if releasing an unknown tension, his body slumps in the couch, contemplating my weaker position. It takes him a few most necessary seconds to collect himself, towering his frame above mine with the glory and poise of a panther. Flexing his still gloved hands a couple of times, visibly debating his next move, he decides to lay his elbows on his thighs, bringing his hands towards and cupping my face, the tender touch eliciting a needy whimper. Under his delicate and short chuckle, I lean my face against the warm leather, embracing his hold with closed eyes, focusing on the complex sensations, all of them delicious and dripping with liquid desire. His thumb draws circles on my cheek, fingers experimenting with the softness of my flesh for a blissful instant in a quasi silence. Elbows securely laying on his thighs, body slightly lurched, his voice is a whisper, a caress against my face.

“Will you be a good dog for me?”

I nod.

“Will you be loyal to me, will you wag your tail for me?”

I nod more frankly, a rush of blood pumping in my system, tinting my cheeks a delicate shade of rose and making my core throb; my hips jerk once, reflexively, as if every single atom constituting my being was yearning for him. Then, said so softly I almost didn’t hear it despite our close proximity. Good girl.

The strangled sob in my throat comes immediately, a built-up feeling that makes my heart ache and swell as I sink my half-lidded eyes in his, desperately searching for approval, squirming on the ground uncomfortably. His thumb brushes against my parted lips gingerly, the intent clear as I open my mouth wider to invite his gloved digit in the warm cavity. A stifled groan shakes in his throat when he caresses my fleshy gums, teasing my crimson appendage. Greedily, I close my mouth around his thumb and suck crudely, bobbing my head along the length of his digit under his mesmerized and lustful gaze. His languorous hums are quasi pornographic, hissing through his teeth when he forcefully removes his thumb in a wet noise, brutally shoving instead his index and middle fingers inside my welcoming mouth.

The sucking noises I make are obscene and vulgar, licking the trembling leather digits, penetrating eagerly and hungrily the space between them with my appendage. His moans are low and choked, a single strand of hair dropping on his forehead, glasses slightly askew, and oh does he look beautiful with his face distorted with a shameful lust that he is just now allowing himself to discover and explore. I feel his fingers thrust inside my throat in wet gagging noises, a foamy pool of saliva accumulating on my pink lips; I do not miss how his hips buck involuntarily, my hands then reaching for his clothed thighs, muscles tense like a bow. When my fingers brush against the outlines of his hardened bulge, Edward removes his fingers from my mouth in a drenched noise and grabs my face with a renewed vigor, the both of us panting in unison, a lewd blend of labored effort and burning arousal.

“You’re so eager, so… hungry . You would take anything from me.”

His voice is low and coarse, akin to a groan, dangerous and feral, and shooting tremors in my thighs, my sex pulsating as I whimper and nod positively, face flushed and beaming. He chuckles nervously, beautifully , looking down at me before working the inside of his mouth with a clear intent, one that makes me sob and weep, opening my mouth wide and sticking my tongue out expectantly, obediently.

Edward spits a big, heavy glob of saliva on my welcoming tongue, watching me with bewildered eyes when I swallow it greedily before opening my mouth again, excitedly presenting him the glistening cushion of my tongue, eager and prepared. He chokes a flustered chuckle, face flushed with quasi embarrassment, his voice trembling and laced with lust. “Incredible.”

His fingers release the soft skin of my face and migrate to my hair, grabbing it enough to feel held in place but not enough to hurt. His flush spreads from his cheeks to his neck giving him an almost bashful look; I see him work his throat again, collecting as much saliva as he can produce, while I pant under him, squirming on the ground like a starving animal. 

When he releases another generous glob of spit that lands perfectly on my tongue, the offering promptly and greedily swallowed, he moans lewdly, emerald eyes clouded by a thick arousal. He pants loudly near my face, his breath smelling of coffee and cigarettes, and I wonder if his lips taste the same, if I will ever be able to know. 

My body squirm uncomfortably on the ground, desperately searching for friction, and perhaps even release. My curious dance does not get lost on him, as he smirks at me with a renewed confidence, fingers grabbing and tugging viciously at my hair, eliciting a mean grunt out of my used throat.

“Are you still hungry, pet? Do you want more?” His voice is a taunting snarl, an amused inflection in his tone, and I whine stupidly, unable to move my head still tightly held in his unforgiving grip. He wants an answer, I understand, cocking his head to the side with an exhausted grin; I believe he too wants, needs release.

“Yes, please. More, I want more.”

My scalp is sore when he releases my hair, looking at his gloved hands with a quasi hypnotic interest when they are unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers, quickly untucking his beautiful, perfect cock; the tip angry red, length flushed in a delicate shade of rose, delicious veins rolling under the flesh. Generous beads of glistening precum drip from the glans in an obscene invitation; one I answer with the crude spectacle of my tongue licking the lips of my already open mouth. Before I can even taste his heavenly flesh, I feel his hand grabbing fistfuls of my hair, preventing any further movement. My frustrated whimpers make him bark a cruel laugh then coo at me, taunting me and mocking me. He is taking great pleasure in my vulgar despair; pumping his cock with his free hand, Edward smiles smugly, humming lowly.

“Beg for it.” It’s almost a murmur with how breathy his voice is, panting loudly as if he were the one begging for release really, and I humor him; of course I do, for I want him with a desire I had never felt before, certain I will die if I don’t immediately swallow his cock.

“Please, please I want you, I need you.” A truth, on more levels than one, but I do not believe he can see all the subtleties of this confession when he presses the back of my head, guiding it towards his hardened sex; or when he cries out in pleasure when I take his entire length down my throat, gagging loudly at the sudden, yet delicious pain. I am quick to work my jaw and bob my head up and down his glory; he tastes just as good as I remember, perhaps cleaner than last time. I do not mind. For a little while, he allows me to swallow his shaft, swirling my tongue over the underside of his cock, passionately sucking at his rosy glans, at the measure of his most indecent moans, loud and primal.

A ferocious groan is all the warning I get before I feel his hands at either side of my head, locking it immobile before his hips start thrusting at a punishing pace, fucking my throat mercilessly. I let him use my fleshy hole wholeheartedly, one hand finding purchase on his clothed thigh, gagging and choking every time the glans hits the back of my throat, foamy spit and precum pooling down my chin; a sight he finds most alluring, I believe, as I feel him throb fiercely.

My other hand snakes down my body, unbuttoning my pants, fingers sinking in my wooly curls until I reach my drenched core and my swollen bud. Edward then snarls and releases my assaulted mouth, maneuvering a booted foot to lay it right between my legs, making me straddle the cold hard leather with his shin pressed against my chest.

“Go on then, dog.”

A broken moan dies on my lips, fingers grabbing at his strong thigh, positioning my clothed cunt perfectly right on his boot, the ankle brushing against my swollen clit. His fist is pumping himself earnestly in a crude and wet noise, his breath labored and quasi pained. There is a pang of hesitation in my chest, one quickly erased when I lift my eyes and find his gaze; there is arousal there, and something akin to tenderness.

And then, I start thrusting.

The friction is electric, his body warmth pressed tightly against my core as my hands clench around his thigh. I feel the rough fabric of his pants rubbing against my cunt as I hump his leg, shattered moans and heavy cries echoing in the warehouse. We maintain eye contact, his face red and glistening with a thin veil of sweat while he’s fucking his hand, panting like a feral beast, chest heaving under his now uncomfortably tight shirt; he is beautiful.

My hips rock more earnestly, his shin rubbing against my throbbing clitoris while the buttons and laces of his leather boot bump and stroke my fluttering cunt; the mixed sensations are otherworldly, experimenting with angles and pace until I find the right combination, the right amount of friction, under his entranced gaze. I do not recognize my voice when I sob stupidly, my cunt clenching and tensing as I near my orgasm, eyes still on his, always on his, never leaving his. He seems to pick up how close I am, for his voice is a fractured murmur. 

“Come for me, and I will reward you.” A promise.

A particular stitch of his boot is what ruins me. Or perhaps is it the way he looks at me, with a carnal adoration when I am fucking his leg. Either way, I feel myself clench, the orgasm devastating, unexpected and exhausting. Every nerve, every muscle tense and burn, stomach flipping painfully as I ride the last waves of this intimate climax.

Pressing my cheek against his knee, almost drooling on the green fabric of pants, breathing heavily, I search his eyes for approval, with the pure desire to become his property, to belong in the most intimate way he can offer.

Edward is nearly there, his fist pumping his angry cock at a frantic pace until all I hear is a strangled sob, a cue I immediately identify as I prop myself on my knees and swallow his cock tenderly, sucking him until I feel him spurt heavy strings of semen down my throat. He cries out, hips bucking as much as he can, fucking the last of his orgasm in my mouth, emptying his seeds in my stomach. He tugs at my hair gently once he feels so overstimulated it begins to hurt, and I remove myself graciously, wiping the remainder of our body fluids with the back of my hand. 

I brace myself for the possibility of him leaving the premises again, leaving me empty and emotionally flayed, but am surprised when he does not. Slumping on the couch, head tilted back against the seat, his hand lays flat on the top of my head, caressing my hair aimlessly. Closing my eyes, I lean against his touch, almost purring, a profound feeling of happiness pooling inside of me. I wonder if dogs feel as elated and content from the simple pleasure of sitting next to their master; I wonder if they too feel an unconditional love, as long as they can lay their heavy head on their master’s lap. In the stillness of the night, life seems perfect as long as I am near him.

Sitting back on the couch and buttoning his pants, Edward looks at me, his face adorning a somewhat torn expression; something between exhaustion, insecurity and doubt. His fingers trace shapeless lines on my face, slipping down my neck where the fingertips stay for a while, a contemplative and pensive look on his face. I offer him a smile, tender and mild, and for a fraction of second I see the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. My heart sings. He inspires deeply, collecting himself and working his throat until he finds the right words, ones that come in his naturally detached tone.

“It’s getting really late, I think you should go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nod, running my fingers through my hair and massaging where my scalp feels sore. When I stand up, my knees burn from the uncomfortable position, my inner thighs feel sticky from my orgasm. Collecting my last belongings, I nod at him politely, bidding him goodnight. His smile is tired but genuine.

Goodnight, dear.

[riddle-me-ri]

I know Arkhamverse has trauma from being strangled, but I always want to kiss EVERY SINGLE RIDDLER on his neck! And that got me thinking... So I have to ask, how do the Riddlers feel about their necks? Like are any of them sensitive? Ticklish? Are any against their neck being touched? Do any love when their s/o goes for their neck?

A/N: okay but anon…how…how did you know I'm an absolute sucker for neck kisses?? Both giving and receiving?? Decided to go more headcanons this route, hope that's all right anon!

Neck Kisses with the Riddlers

Arkhamverse Riddler:

- Okay but out of most of these Riddlers, Arkham Eddie is by far the most sensitive with his neck.

- You’ve seen how Batman literally drags and manhandles him by the throat every chance he gets. 

- The minute you even reach out to cup his face, this poor man flinches on instinct.

- I know you love neck kisses, but don’t expect to be able to give this Eddie any…for a long, long, while. 

- For you to touch him, let alone kiss him, in such a vulnerable, previously abused countless times location. He has to trust you. 

- And Ed doesn’t trust just anyone, however once you get him to trust you…

- He adores it when you give him kisses. Lips, face, head, neck…it feels like devotion. He gets to finally put his guard down and let himself be adored, rightfully so, by you. 

Reevesverse/Dano Riddler:

- This Riddler…is sensitive. I don’t doubt he’s fairly ticklish.

- The minute you two shared your first kiss, he’s become obsessed with your lips on him. It doesn’t matter where. 

- I don’t doubt he’ll chuckle a couple times at the strange but ultimately pleasing sensation. It takes some getting used to for sure.

- When he does get used to your neck kisses though, he’s instant puddy in your hands. 

- His knees get wobbly, legs shaky, feels weightless. Trying to catch himself on a chair or sofa, but doesn’t want you to stop. 

- Please, don’t stop for anything…except for maybe kisses on the lips. 

Gotham Riddler:

- When the two of you get heated in a passionate make out session, Ed practically expects them. 

- He loves the way it makes him feel. 

- Admired, treasured. 

- The way they warm up his body. The way they alleviate whatever headache or migraine that’s troubling him at the moment. 

- Then again, most of your kisses do that for him. 

- It is a moment of vulnerability with him though, please respect that and don’t take advantage of it. 

BTAS Riddler:

- Edward is for certain that your kisses are the best reward, the best prizes in this world. Even greater than money or cars. 

- To say he becomes an addict is an understatement. 

- He loves it when you reciprocate his trail of kisses he leaves on you, earlier that day. 

- The way your soft lips press against the sensitive skin of his neck. 

- It warms the skin there, causes small goosebumps to form there. 

- You adore the way he warmly chuckles at them and leans his head and shrugs his shoulder, an attempt to bring you closer and keep you there at his neck. 

- Edward will be sure to return the favor tenfold. 

Zero Year/Capullo Riddler:

- This asshole expects them from you. 

- Like, what’re you doing? 

- You should be worshipping his body with kisses, ugh, you have an opportunity that so many dream of and you’re just gonna let it fly by?

- Obviously, once you power through the urge to slap the shit out of him (or just slap him, that’s fine too…probably will turn him on so good luck with that)

- He won’t admit it, like a bunch of other things, but he’s an absolute sucker for your neck kisses. 

- Ed likes how it does make him feel worshipped, someone worthy of attention and affection. 

Twojar Riddler:

- Oh ho ho this possessive buff leprechaun prick. 

- He absolutely thrives on neck kisses, much like how the other Riddlers do. 

- It’s a very intimate gesture of vulnerability, passion, and devotion. 

- Edward wouldn’t want to have it any other way. 

- He also eggs you on to go ahead and leave a couple of love bite while you’re at it. 

- It turns him on to see you act as possessively over him as he does over you. 

Gotham City Sirens Riddler:

- Edward can’t imagine a more pleasant way to end the work day. 

- Wrapped up in your embrace, kissing and groping like some lovesick fools. 

- The minute your lips hit the side of his neck, pecking up and down it. 

- The P.I. is a goner. 

- Whatever is left plaguing his mind from work, is completely forgotten. 

- He cradles the back of your head to keep your lips there, only letting up for you to kiss the other side of his neck (or kiss him, properly on his lips). 

- He’s sure to return the favor soon enough. 

Young Justice Riddler:

- Hnng this weak lad can’t even handle hand kisses rip

- PDA or…any sort of A in general…is new territory for this Eddie. 

- Kinda like Dano Riddler, I imagine he’s stupid ticklish. 

- Your lips barely brush along his neck and he’s in a giggly fit. 

- But it’s cute, so that’s fine. You go in for the kill regardless. 

- His whole face lights up red, warming up to the nth degree. Instantly becomes addicted to them though. 

- This Eddie just enjoys the fact that there’s someone that genuinely thinks he’s that attractive to warrant neck kisses. 

Telltale Riddler:

- Okay, first off, ew, how dare you?

- You really think he was just going to let you that close? 

- I mean, sure he likes the attention, he likes you…but you’re gonna have to earn the privilege to kiss his neck. 

- Yeah, I don’t know what you see in the Puzzle Grandpa either whoop.

- However, whenever you earn the right to kiss his neck, he’s got a dumb egotistical smirk on his face. 

- He…appreciates the gesture. 

Hush (DCAU) Riddler: 

- This man is absolutely weak for you. 

- When you smile at him, he feels like he’s been blessed. 

- To have you love him, excessively, and kiss every inch of his body. 

- Oh, well, he can’t get enough. 

- Especially your neck kisses. 

- The way you go from nuzzling his sideburns to kissing along his jaw, from his jaw you go lower to his neck. 

- He’s a warm buzzing mess, but don’t let him stop you. He loves this way too much.

[finniestoncrane]

Punishment/Reward

Arkham!Riddler x Fem!Reader, word count: 550 oh some absolute sweetheart requested this on ao3 and i couldn't help myself because i have been giddy over him again 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fingering, cockwarming, teasing, orgasm denial, reader has a pussy but no gendered language is used

Eddie’s hand reached up to you, curling around your throat and tensing, python like in the confident, predatory grasp he held you in. 

“There were set stipulations to this agreement, and I am being very considerate in giving you a warning, first.”

You struggled briefly, trying to choke your words out, instead opting for a silent nod in understanding. There had been a formal discussion, with Eddie laying out his rules in advance of submitting to your will, and you had graciously accepted them. They had been reasonable, after all, you mused, as you played it over in your mind.

“If you want to be filled, I can satiate that desire. But you won’t move. You won’t speak. And you won’t be a hindrance to my concentration. Deal?”

Ever cock-hungry, only where Eddie was concerned, you had nodded so hard and enthusiastically your head had begun to hurt, only stopping when he had lifted your chin in his gloved hand and looked into your eyes with a confidence that always stirred both terror and arousal deep within your core.

“Very good.”

And now, here you were, breaking that rule already. So desperate, your body aching with an intensity and desire so strong you’d forgotten where you were, and who you were disobeying, and had begun to roll your hips a little as you sat on his lap. Of course, this disobedience would not go unnoticed, certainly not by Eddie. Despite the fact his cock throbbed inside of you, twitching with every slight stroke of it against your insides, he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, let you bend the rules. Every misdemeanour deserved punishment, even to his own pleasure’s detriment. 

“Now, if you’re going to misbehave, I will have to make you atone for it.”

He bucked his hips up once, thrusting himself up to the hilt, holding you down, one hand on your throat, one hand on your thigh. 

“Do. Not. Move.”

The hand on your thigh moved to your front to play with you, teasing you, taunting you cruelly as he growled in your ear. Rough fingers skirting over sensitive, tingling skin while you tensed your body in a desperate attempt to remain as still as possible.

“My, my. What a mess you’re making.”

He removed his hand from you and held it in front of your face, prying his finger and thumb apart and bringing them together again, displaying strands of your arousal as they stretched between his digits. You didn’t need the example, you were more than aware of how wet you were, dripping onto his cock as it pulsed, still, steady, hard, within you. 

His fingers moved to your mouth, pushing down on your bottom lip and placing his fingers on your tongue, letting you taste yourself. You choked back a soft gasp, imagining that any sound would count as “against the rules”, but he quickly pulled the digits out and cooed softly into your ear. 

“Oh, now… I’m not completely without empathy. If it helps, you may make some noise. I will admit to finding your pathetic mewling somewhat of a stroke to my ego.”

You whined, almost on command, a strangled sound that vibrated through you. It didn’t make it any easier however, but you knew neither of you could last much longer. Or at least, you hoped.

[acapelladitty]

Edward Nygma/Female Reader: Surveillance

Summary - Edward 'catches' you enjoying some 'self-love' (as those tiktok people are apparently calling it these days 💀).

As always, it's impossible to hide anything from Edward and as his voice rings out across the speaker which is situated up in the corner of his workspace you feel an immediate flush of arousal as your fingers slip free of your aching cunt.

“Tut. Tut. Tut. Pleasuring yourself on my couch?”

‘Caught’ as hell, you startle as a soft vibration alights on your chest and you glance down to your phone to see it ringing with a familiar number. Answering, you immediately put the phone on loudspeaker as you drop it between your tits once again.

“Hello, Eddie.”

“Do not ‘hello Eddie’ me,” Edward’s voice rings out, “not when you are debasing yourself on my expensive couch and attempting to divert me from my work.”

“I was not.” You lie. “I completely forgot that the western camera faces directly onto this sofa.”

"The video feed doesn't tell lies. You should know better by now." He scolded playfully, the anger in his tone not nearly enough to cover the smug arousal.

“Hey, I was just lying here…thinking.” Your fingers trail back down your dark tank top, past the phone, as they make the slow return journey to their original destination. “Thinking about this man I know.”

Sounding a little more strained that he had previously as he clearly watches your fingers tease along your pubic mound, Edward can’t help but buy into your little game. “Oh?”

Circling your finger around your clit in soft, gentle movements, it sparks a sigh in your tone as you continue. “Mmm-hmm. I think he’s very handsome and so smart that it makes me want to fuck his brains out.”

An interesting sound, almost like a zip being pulled down, slips through the phone and a wide grin tugs at your lips as you know you have him as you continue with a pout.

“I wish he was here.”

“And what – ah – what would you want him to do if he was?”

“I’d want him to tell me what to do.” You challenge, looking up directly into the surveillance camera as you wipe your wet fingers along your inner thigh invitingly.

Taking the bait, Edward’s smug voice came through a little rough – deepened by his obvious arousal – as he settled into his role.

“Would you want him to tell you to fill yourself with as many fingers as your wanton little body could handle?”

Thrusting two fingers within your cunt, the sudden fullness makes you moan as you rub the fingers along your walls, seeking out those little areas which send sparks flying down your spine. You feel warm and wet, your hole making obscenely damp noises as your fingers continue to follow his instructions, stretching yourself out deliciously at his command.

“For being such a good girl I think he would tell you to tease your clit, just enough to make you remember how good he is at massaging it with his tongue.”

A groan slips free of your lips as you do exact that, rubbing the pad of your finger across the sensitive nub gently – picturing his mouth wrapped around it as he flicked his tongue and sucked at it until your legs were numb from overstimulation.

“I’d also,” you pant out through your bitten moans, “like to know what he was doing. If he was stroking along his hard cock, wishing that it was disappearing between my lips as I knelt between his legs.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s enjoying himself just as much as you are.” Edward purred through the phone and you can imagine him sitting, cock in hand, as his face is pressed as closely to the surveillance monitor as possible. “In fact, I think he would pay you a visit when he was finished stroking himself off to the sight of your wicked little games.”

A bright smile sparking across your lips as your clit throbs in anticipation, you spread your lips with your fingers as you showcase exactly what he’ll be able to enjoy if he joins you.

“In that case," you purr back, “I suppose I’ll just continue to sit here and warm myself up until my prince in green armour arrives to give me what I’m needing.”

The phone hangs up and you give a throaty giggle as you drop it off to the side of the sofa.

All according to plan.

[yaztheangel]

The Riddler - Edward Nigma Entire Arkham Series Designs💚

Selling them on my Etsy check it out! Click here

[hxney-lemcn]

Adventurous — btas! Edward Nygma x gn! reader

summery: just some domestic fluff with Eddie and reader.

tw: mentions of getting a piercing.

a/n: I just got my conch pierced and wanted to write about it LMAO. Day two and it's still a bit sore so I had to get this out of my system. Also, I've been wanting to write for btas riddler for so long. I love him.

wc: 0.4k

Master List

“Honey, I’m home!” I joked, locking the door behind me. 

Jittery nerves filled me as I slid my shoes off. Not the bad kind of nerves, the type that makes you anticipate what someone's reaction would be. I had just been hanging out with my friends, and as always, it took a bit of a turn. My friend Ash had asked us to accompany them to get their ear pierced. They had easily influenced me to join them, and now I was sporting a shiny new conch piercing.

“Welcome back, dear,” Eddie greeted as I entered the living room. “How was your day out?”

“It was fun!” I replied with a smile. “We went out to eat, and stopped at the library.”

“I’m glad you had a marvelous time,” He smiled, warmth filling his gaze. Then he paused, eyes raking over my face. I pretended like nothing was different, that jittery feeling growing. I bit my lip, trying to stop that mischievous smile that threatened to overtake my face. 

I understood why Eddie did what he did. There was a sort of thrill, to see if you can do something without anyone catching on. To try and outsmart the smartest. Although compared to a bank robbery, this wasn’t that big. 

“It seems your day was a bit more adventurous then you’re letting on,” A small smirk rose on his lips. A bright grin landed on my face, no longer able to hold in my excitement. Raising a hand, Eddie gently went to caress my ear, but I flinched immediately at the contact.

“Ouch,” I winced, raising a hand to protectively cover my ear. 

Eddie’s smirk fell, a pained look crossing his features, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” I tried to smile reassuringly. “I found out that the conch is one of the more painful piercings. I thought they meant the needle at first, but it’s actually because of how long it hurts afterwards. My entire ear is sore right now.”

“Should I prepare an ice pack?” Eddie fretted, hands held up like he was holding himself back from touching me. 

“Maybe tomorrow if it’s still sore,” I replied, leaning up to peck his cheek. “But thank you. How’s your day been?”

Eddie’s face turned a soft pink as a silly smile took over him. For the rest of the night, Eddie talked about his day as you two took purchase on the couch. He made sure to be gentle as he held you, even though it was only your ear that was hurt. It just showed how gentle of a lover he was, and you couldn’t ask for more.

[lonleydweller]

May I request Telltale!Riddler x Reader who loves to stroke his ego? Loves telling him he's smart, cool, handsome, the greatest criminal in the whole world, and all sorts of flattering compliments? (he's not dating the reader, they're more of an assistant who looks at him with big ol' heart eyes 😍😍😍😍😍😍)

🌹Telltale Riddler with an assistant who feeds into his ego🌹

Sure can do! These headcanons can be seen as either romantic or platonic.

!Warnings!: none

-----------------------------------------------------

●What are you doing. Stop that. Actually wait don't- you can coutinue, kinda. Maybe. He has mixed feelings at first. Being a bit flustered and confused. Having someone give him the praise he always strived to get from others un-prompted? It feels strange.

●It is also met with a grain of salt and skepticism. After all he's your boss. You could easily just being doing this to get on his good side or earn some kind of raise.. even when you're in the highest position of his goons... Which he supposes he could always hold over your head if you ever stop giving him the validation.

●Definitely boasts to the others in the pact. Look! Someone else finally recognizes his brilliance besides himself!

●Any more flirty remarks may be met with a scoff or amused grunt. 50/50 on wether or not there's any reciprocation. It feeds into his ego regardless.

●He loves when you praise him and his intelligence in front of others.. however there is a right time and place to do so. If he's in the middle of giving a dramatic villian speech, he'd prefer if you didn't interrupt him.

●You might notice he seems to spend a tiny bit more time with you than normal. Being able to stand you. After all.. you don't insult him, scoff at him, roll your eyes, yell, or simply listen to him out of fear. He dosen't feel as if you'd leave at the drop of a hat.

●Wether this evolves into something more platonically or romantically is up to fate.

-----------------------------------------------------

[undiscovered-horizon]

No need to be sorry, I'm glad I can put a smile on someone's face. I wasn't planning on it originally (I'm a go-with-the-flow kind of person) but where there's demand, there's supply!🌺

🫀REQUESTS ARE OPEN🫀 || Batman-inspired playlist

Imagine the Riddler being your secret admirer. - Part 5

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

Life with Eddie was simple but not easy. On the one hand, it was utterly comfortable, yet you still kept on your toes because peace as it turns out is a fickle thing.

You quickly realized that the space surrounding him quite well represented his inside: 'vital mess'. Which meant chaos that only he could navigate. Trying to bring any kind of order to it would upset him in many cases as if there was some enigmatic, state-of-the-art feng shui that only he was privy to; every single object, even if seemingly misplaced, was placed in a position essential to the arrangement. So with time you grew used to the constant lack of undisputable cleanliness.

He wasn't as predictable as partners want to perceive each other. Sometimes all it took was a word or a single look to make him spiral into anguish and anger. The good thing was that Eddie wasn't inconsolable - just a little easier to start panicking than most people.

Eddie's been busy with some detailed, mechanical work for a few hours at that point. He wasn't exceptionally expansive, so he only murmured something about getting parts to finish his little project. You didn't think much about it and simply left him to do whatever it was that occupied him.

But he won't need the empty shipping box anymore, will he?

"No, don't!" Eddie's sudden exclamation caught you off guard and you instinctively flinch. "I'm sorry," he quickly apologised. "Just... please, don't move the box."

You let out a quiet sigh and moved your hand away from the cardboard. Turning to look at Eddie, you noticed him staring at you with a curiously worried expression like he was expecting you to be upset with him for some reason. He wore that look quite often.

"I love you," you said in a reassuring tone.

Eddie's eyes opened slightly wider and his eyebrows lifted. "You... don't think I'm a weirdo?"

"No, I do," you said as you shook your head slightly. Eddie's expression momentarily fell. "You're the weirdest and best person I've ever met."

For the first time in his life, being called 'weird' didn't feel like an insult.

_________ A/N: Dialogue is taken from @dinosandcomics on Instagram

@bluefairyangel

[tonberry-yoda]

what if

theoretically

I changed up my account a little (fandom wise)

opened requests (only like 12 slots)

and added batman to the fandom so I can write for Edward Nigma 🤔🤔🤔🤔

lmk guys, lmk