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finniestoncrane · 2 days ago

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Ok I’ve this idea cooking in my mind brain for the the last couple days and I need someone to help make it a reality. Can get a little something with Arkham Eddie and his vigilante s/o who for the last couple of months have been having this strong bit of sexual tension between the two of them and after one of Eddie’s crimes fail and they have him cornered s/o decides “screw it” and finally decides to get Eddie in bed you can make it as grossly nsfw gutter minded as you want I actually encourage it

ok ok i love this??? i think him having sexual tension and a bit of flirty banter with someone is just HNG because honestly, he's a cheeky little shit and that's why i love him so like where he obviously lusts after batman, i gave him someone who is willing to reciprocate his weirdly obsessive affections

so yeah! here's my arkham riddler x gender neutral vigilante reader fic for you

i'm sorry this took so long but i hope you enjoy it and i hope i interpreted it right, like i maybe took it slightly differently than you hoped but if i did just come back at me and i can work on it!!! 💚

minors DNI!! 🔞 cw for nsfw stuff like i went whole hog and the second half is just porn yw <3

"You're no better than that idiot detective d-d-detective. I'll beat every one of you that tries to stop me stop me."

His voice rang through your ear piece, shrill and taunting and so loud.

"They can all come after me, one by one, but none of them will surpass the levels of intellect it takes to beat this genius genius."

The warbled tones, sharp static and echoes were grating, but as long as he was talking it meant he was distracted.

"And I bet you think that because I can't see you, because you've evaded my cameras c-cameras, that you're somehow smart now now? But I can still hear you. I've got microphones, yes microphones, all over the city th-the city."

He didn't, and you knew it. Because you were splashing loudly through the sewers, potentially within arms reach of his workshop. And he was none the wiser. It was exciting, the thrill of finally facing him. Adrenaline pumped through your veins and underneath, a tinge of something more, warming your blood and flushing your cheeks.

"It's a matter of brains over brawns b-b-brawns, and while you're certainly very brawny, you don't have any brains brains."

Two whole months of trailing him, following his obnoxious little clues and riddles, spending hours of your time listening to him bang on about that bat as if he was the only vigilante who existed.

"Not that...I have observed your brawns brawns. Although, I wonder how much of that is just your little costume tume. We'd have to take it off to see what's really underneath underneath-neath."

You were jealous of him, actually. Jealous of anyone who had his attention more than you did. It was pathetic, really. But you'd spend so long thinking about him, studying him. How could you not have fallen for him, even just a little bit.

"I MEANT to see how little you had h-h-had, not that I want to see you out of your costume costume. You're vile v-vile. As if I would be persuaded by anything of that nature, let alone you you-you-you."

It was amazing how he could keep talking when you weren't even responding to him anymore. Could have been fear, you guessed. A habit he developed to drown out any of his deeper thoughts beyond crime, plotting and stupid puns. The way he got caught in his words was endearing though, and you hated to have to put an end to it.

"Surprise." You offered it in a dull tone, arms crossed in front of you and head tilted to the side, smile visible on your face, self-satisfied smirk gleaming in your eyes from behind your eye mask.

"Oh...shoot. You really do have to spoil all the fun, huh?"

"I hate to do it to you, Ed, I really do. Maybe, if you come quietly and don't make a fuss, I can show you the brawn underneath my costume, whaddaya say?"

His face beamed a bright and instant red and he furrowed his eyebrows. Taking his eyes off of you for a brief moment, long arms reaching for his cane that sat off to his side, he allowed you the time you needed to corner him against the slimy, brick walls of the Gotham sewers. With your arm under his neck and the other pinning his hands above him, you stared deep into his eyes.

Chests heaving with exertion, the space between you somehow drawing closer, you considered how handsome he was. How intriguing you found him. How two months of doing nothing but think of him had driven you past the point of rage and desire for vigilante justice, and had circled around to an intense crush.

It was the tension. The teasing, the obsessive notes left for you, the way he mocked you relentlessly, his attitude, his self-absorption. It was a bad thing to admit, but his constant bragging and self-congratulatory speeches had you truly believing that he was the smartest man in Gotham. Deserving of something better than the Batman, who was only stringing him along, mercilessly.

You could hear the longing in his voice, the way he spoke of him. There was a desire to be caught, to be interviewed and given a chance to unleash his inner thoughts to people who had to listen to him. And, as much as he enjoyed being elusive to the point of irritation to the GCPD, you could tell he was desperate to be captured, to be lauded for his crimes on the newspapers, to be the crowning achievement of Arkham's inmate population.

Why else would he leave a trail of neon green breadcrumbs leading right to him? He was lonely. Needy. And something about that notion drove you wild. The pathetic attempts at flirting, which he backtracked on as soon as he'd let them slip, the way you knew he watched you, constantly.

Without much thought, you kissed him, cutting off his ranting about how you should let him go because you must have been cheating blah blah blah. At first he was still, shock, maybe. Most likely defiance, not wanting to submit to feelings for someone who he should for all intents and purposes be hell bent on destroying. But he sank into it, straining his neck against your arm to get closer to you, deeper into the moment, tongue pressing out in hopes of getting more contact.

In a bold move, one that was incredibly risky and highly stupid, you eased off while keeping your lips to his. Removing your arm from his neck first, bringing it down to his side, placed softly on his hip. The other, warily removed from his wrists, allowing him freedom. Freedom to run.

But he remained, and with no restrictions his hands were flung quickly around your back, running up and down your spine desperately, pawing at you, scratching and grasping. They moved deftly to the front where he undid the belt and zip of your outfit, hands desperately clutching your bare flesh at the hips and using his powerful arms to spin you around and against the wall.

In a surprisingly submissive move, he fell to his knees, tugging at the material around your thighs to get better access. As you shrugged your shoulders and arms out, he yanked hard and exposed your body to the frigid and stale air before pressing his mouth to you, on you. He worked feverishly, tasting you, biting ever so gently where he knew it would elicit the most lurid reactions, tongue muscles, strong from the ridiculous amount of talking he did, finally put to good use as he teased your skin.

One hand against the wall to balance you, the other reached to stroke his cheek before travelling up to his hair, gripping it at the top and pulling him closer to you. His tongue, flat against you, lapped at your taste as he moaned and let you control him. But as you adjusted to the pleasure, deep pulsing waves of ecstasy ringing in your ears, he pulled away.

Mercifully, he began to kiss you again, dragging his cheeks, stubble delightfully brushing at your skin, down your neck and to your collarbone where he let his mouth hang agape, breathing in and inhaling you. Strength doubled with the adrenaline of arousal, he gripped onto you and turned you around with ease.

With your face pressed against the sharp texture of the wall, you hissed in pain and pleasure as he sucked on his fingers, lathering them in his spit before rubbing them against your entrance, although you were already embarrassingly ready and willing from his practised efforts of oral.

You could hear him unzip himself, spitting onto his palm and groaning as he stroked his cock and began to tease you with it, gently rubbing it up and down before easing the tip into you. He was an impressive thickness, and the sensation of just his head pushing past the tightness made you push yourself back onto him, both of you letting out a grunt as you took him in, whole.

It was interesting to note the absence of speech. You had imagined, and imagined a lot over the past couple of months, that he would be almost as insufferable during sex as he was in any other situation. A constant running commentary on the events. But he was breathy, deeply focused on the task at hand. The noises he did make were animalistic and carnal, grunting and growling interspersed with softer groans, an occasionally sweet whimper as he tossed his head back.

He whispered, most likely in an attempt to hide what he was saying, and you could hear your pseudonym being uttered softly with a growing passion, drowned out by the echoes of your bodies crashing against one another. It was sending you over the edge, and as you worried about how much longer he was going to last, impressed by his stamina and pacing, you knew you were unable to hold out much longer.

You called out his name, screaming it into the room, oddly intimate to refer to him by his first name but desperate to cry it out. Knees buckling, he held firm onto your hips as he began to tense up, fingernails in your flesh, spit seething from his gritted teeth as he held his tongue, fighting against instinct to praise you, to let you know you'd won him over. He came, hard, seed spilling out as he removed himself with a shaking moan. But his hands remained on your waist, soothing over the little dents where he had gripped tightly in orgasm. He leaned into your ear, kissing it softly before whispering.

"I can't let you win that easily. How about this time, you can go hide and I'll come looking for you. I promise you I'll be able to find you a lot quicker than you found me."

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