Riddler feeling particularly attention hungry, getting his wrists tied above his head and his body worshipped until he can't take it anymore.. Maybe adding some edging or overstimulating to the mix. It doesn't even have to be just the Riddler, it could be all the rogues, they've all earned their turn
It’s only Sex ⸮ ﹖°‧⋆. ¿ ‽ ?°⋆.*:･
Riddler/Reader, 2.8k words
warnings 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ pegging, dom fem reader, sub riddler, overstim, dumbification, use of mommy, NOT PROOFREAD, bondage
summary 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ Edward Nygma finds himself desperately in need of relief after working a little to hard.
Edward knew two things about you: Your sleep schedule was almost as fucked as his— something he found out quickly after a few 3am booty calls— and you were adequate in bed.
Okay, fine. You were actually the best lover Eddies ever taken. Maybe ‘lover’ isn’t exactly the right word; perhaps no-strings-attached fuckbuddy was more accurate, if a more crude description.
Surprisingly, the ‘no strings attached’ aspect made it easier for Eddie to get… comfortable. He knew, ultimately, your own feeble emotions wouldn’t get in the way of meaningless pleasure. He’d hate for you to get too attached and spoil the whole thing, after all, he really does have far more important things to concern himself with.
The fact this little meeting won’t matter that next day makes it all the easier for Eddie to relinquish control. To submit. Not because he was weak, or because he needed it, but because why would be bother rewarding you with an amazing performance of dominance when it would so easily be brushed under the rug. No, the great Riddler wouldn’t waste his energy.
“Earth to Eddie,” You drawl, casually. “Wiggle your wrists, I wanna see if these are tight enough.”
Eddies wrists were bound to the bed frame above his head, admittedly very snuggly. This was the first time he’d agreed in letting you bind him like this, but only because… well.
It had been a relatively long time since you’d last seen each other, and Eddies latest project has been proving— not difficult— but lengthy. He needed relief, badly.
“Surprisingly, you’ve managed to be competent in your endeavors to restrain me. But for gods sake, you’re boring me. I’d start prep myself if you hadn’t taken away such a crucial skill of mine.” He complained, as usual. However this time, he was trying not to salivate looking at your strap on.
You push his legs up to his chest, “Well thank god you’re still so skilled in the art of being an annoying smart ass. Maybe next time I should invest in a gag, Eddie.”
Eddie almost faltered. Sultry had slipped into your voice the way it used to when you were being intimate, and it’d been so long he nearly instinctively moaned. Nearly. “Oh please. You’d be lost without my wit.
You cock an eyebrow, and position a lubricated finger outside of Eddies hole.
He inhales sharply when you put it in.
“We’ll see about that,” You breathe into his neck, nipping at his skin.
What always surprised you about Eddie was how soft he felt underneath you.
Surely he should be hardened around the edges, to mirror his sharp tongue, but this was not the case; His skin was not calloused because of his hard work, simply filed down and sculpted; His hair not wilted due to stress, but feathery and fine; he did not feel like one of gotham’s rogues as much as he looked like one.
His skin was easy to sink your teeth into, as you work your fingers — now two — inside of him.
“I’ll be honest, Eddie,” You say in between love bites, “I have missed being inside of you. Having such a smart boy, fall apart beneath me never gets old.”
“I do— not fall apart.” Eddie manages with gritted teeth. “I do— get bored, however.”
Your other hand grazed his dick, enough to make him have to bite his lip with fury, before lands on his thighs where it softly caressed his skin.
He knew what was happening, you were teasing him, trying to sexually frustrate him to desperation.
You twisted your fingers cruelly inside of him, slamming against his prostate with unhinged grace, before shoving the third finger inside him.
Eddie shuddered, and then winced. “Ah—hey! Y-you’re doing that on purpose.” He complained.
You leaned back, hand gliding above his thigh, teasingly prancing around his dick, and landing on his chest. “What am I doing, Eddie?”
He swallowed. As your fingers worked inside him, continuing their pattern: twisting themselves inside him until pressure lingered on his prostate, feeling curl, rub and uncurl just fast enough for his thighs to quiver, before you pull them nearly all the way out of him.
He bit down in his lip. “You are playing games with me.”
Your other hand was warm and unassuming against his chest. You waited until he got used to the pressure and then tweaked his nipple, “I thought you liked games, Edward.”
Your voice was so sickening sweet with condescension he didn’t know whether to throw up, or shove your hand out of him, climb on top of your strap and fuck himself silly.
You scissored your fingers inside him, before drilling them against his prostate once more. “You’re so tight, pretty boy.”
Oh god, was it that obvious he was losing it?
During these intimate moments, you had a habit of sticking your fingers in between the folds of Eddies massive brain, and rubbing at crevices he didn’t know existed.
You knew exactly how to undo him, how to make him fucked out and drooling on the mattress, unable to speak. He doesn’t know how you figured it out — body language and good guesses? Doesn’t matter.
You were already planting yourself inside his head like a parasite, however. You knew how to get him desperate, how to bait him with praise, how to make him want more.
“Fuck,” Edward sighed, maybe with defeat, feeling something coil in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck, c—come on. Let’s get on with it.”
You hand grazes his nipple once more and he squirms. It dips, gracefully dragging a finger down his stomach, to the base of his cock.
A breath leaves him, “You’re being cruel.”
“I’m being attentive.”
Your fingers curl and at last he whimpers.
“God, mercy.” He shuts his eyes.
A beat, as your fingers twist themselves nearly out of him, and a finger drags itself along his shaft.
You know you have him, when his body lurches forward, and he pulls on his restraints. “You know what I want to hear, Edward.”
A beat.
“Mercy, please.”
Almost instantly, fingers are replaced with your thick strap, and Edward cries out relief. He almost thanks you but bites his tongue. He’s not that far gone yet.
You start at a slower pace, letting Eddie adjust himself accordingly on you, letting your now two free hands explore his body like they’re trying to find his control panels to press all the buttons you can.
“That’s the polite Eddie, I remember,” You praise sweetly. “I think so highly of a sweet boy who’s smart and has manners.”
You don’t say it like you’re gloating, even though Edward knows you’ve won. You say it like you mean it, like you’re so very impressed he managed to obey you, like you’re proud.
Blindly, he hopes you are.
Your strap picks up pace, slamming against his prostate with now steady speed. He cries out, less aware of the noises leaving his throat.
“There he is,” you say with awe. “God, Your noises. Such a whore for my cock, aren’t you, Eddie?”
He shook his head, “N-no, I’m, i’m, ‘m not—“ He panted through his sentence, clinging to coherent thought. An attempt so futile be might have been trying to keep a candle lit underwater.
You push his legs to all the way to his chest, folding him in half, and the sound that unleashes itself from the back of his throat is something between a guttural moan and the whimper of a dying animal.
“You are, though, aren’t you? You’re already struggling to keep big boy thoughts circling through that head of yours,” You taunt him, slamming into him with purpose.
You drag yourself instead him, hitting all the right spots, stretching him out in a way he missed so bad.
He tried to think, he really did. But thought died in him like a lighter in wind, he whined in frustration.
“N-not fair! How— how do you—“ He tried, but his eyes rolled back as you hit a particularly brutal angle inside him. “Oh—ohgodohgod, nghh!”
“Go on,” You tease. “Ask me a riddle, Eddie.”
Your condescension was deliciously cruel, and Eddie found himself craving more and more of it. Despite your teasing, your intent was completely clear to Edward. You were not trying to bully, or mock, You were trying to teach.
“Ahh— ngh, I— I don’t, I can’t,” Edward tried with all of his might to think of anything at all, but he couldn’t. He could only focus of how deep you were pushing yourself inside him. “I don’t know!”
He squealed it like a kid made to confess stealing, and you tuted. “Oh Eddie, that’s quite alright. Brilliant minds need breaks too, you can’t possible expect to be able to think all the time.”
A hand pet his hair sympathetically, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He thinks he moaned in response, he doesn’t know.
“Stop trying to prove your self,” you say, soft but with command. When you sounded like that, it was almost impossible not to listen, despite how contrary Eddie was.
You pushed into him harder, leaning in to whisper something. He moaned deeply. “You’re just a pretty face crying on mommy’s cock now. And Eddie, you’re so good at it.
His stomach flipped and he grinded himself against you madly, whimpering like you’d cut open his heart.
“Ah! Ah! ‘m close— ‘m so close—“ He whimpered, pathetically chasing your strap every time he so much as drifts away from his core.
You pet his chest soothingly, “Whenever you’re ready, you know what to say.”
Edward thought hard — or tried to. He searched the corners of his flickering mind trying to think of what you could possibly be referring to.
“Oh— I— I know it— hah, I know: please, please, please mommy!” He said it high pitched, and desperately sure of himself. Like he’d just solved the hardest problem in the world.
“Good boy, Eddie! You’re so smart, baby.” You coo, “My smart boy, cum whenever you want, angel.”
Your thrusting doesn’t cease, and your rhythm doesn’t falter, even as Edward fucks himself to climax on your strap. He finished with a deep moan, and you slipped out of him with ease.
Before he could catch his breath, you shove yourself back into him. He cries out in shock, “Too- too much!”
You hush him, and adjust your angle, making sure you’re drilling directly into his prostate. “I know my smart boy can take it. Can’t you?”
He tears up at the pressure, before nodding, and squirming against his restraints. It sort of hurt, but the pleasure was blinding, and the way your eyes were observing his shivering body was positively addictive.
There was something about your attention that Edward was obsessed with, especially like this. Your eyes fell on him with careful attentiveness, like he mattered more than anything in history ever has.
And the way you spoke to him? That soft sultry tone of a caregiver mixed with deep, deep, desire. He’d never been wanted like this, but you made him feel like you wanted him more than anything.
The overstimulation stung, but he’d rather you split him in half than pull out, unlock yourself from him. He wanted you connected to him like this forever, like his missing puzzle piece that interlocked with him perfectly, pulling the picture around it together.
His legs quivered, and he whined beneath you desperately.
Your eyes lit up when they trailed down. “Look at that, Eddie!” You’re hand found its way it his twitching cock. “You’re so wet for me.”
Vaguely, he realized that his cock hadn’t stopped leaking cum ever since he climaxed.
“So desperate for mommy’s attention, aren’t you?” You drawl, drilling into him with unnerving ease.
He whimpered, and without thinking, nodded softly. You smiled, and he didn’t care how much he was demeaning himself, because you smiled at him.
“And you work so hard for it, don’t you Eddie? Always thinking of your next plan, calculating your next equation, trying to solve being appreciated,” he whines below you, like you had just stuck your hands in his wiring and started pulling at the strings. “You’ve earned this, pretty boy. You’ve earned being my dumb little whore, needy and desperate to be fucked. It’s such a good look on you.”
“Ah— mmh, i’m- gonna’” he tried, liquid spurting out of his cock as a warning for his next and final climax. “Mama—“
“You’re so beautiful when you finally let yourself come undone. Smart boys deserve to be fucked stupid sometimes.” Your hands pumped his leaking cock. “Do you like only being able to think of my cock deep inside you? Only being able to feel the pressure of me against your pretty parts?”
An animalistic noise ripped itself from his chest, and tears spilled over his drooping eyes. “Yes— mmhm’ I— I like it— I like it—“ He admitted, not thinking of his image anymore.
You smiled, and delivered your final blow: “I’m so proud of you, Edward.”
With that, he finished with tremendous might, white spurting out of his dick like a faucet, slamming his wrists against the bed frame. He cried out, half sobbing, whimpering like a dog in his comedown.
He could only think of you: you untying his wrists, taking him into your embrace, and soothing him. He felt claimed. Remade. Completely rewired.
If you asked him any other time, he’d tell you that moments like this, were ‘only sex.’ Transactional. Not emotional, just relief.
But right now, you were his world. You were his life line.
