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plush-rabbit · 1 year

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Dating Headcanons - The Riddler

Request: OH MY GOD YES PLEASE GIRL I REALLY WANNA SEE UR TAKE ON THE RIDDLER AKA THE BABYGIRL ILL GET ON MY HANDS AND KNEES FOR U TO MAKE HEADCANONS FOR THAT LITTLE FREAK

TW: Abusive relationships

A/N: I did not rewatch the movie, so this is purely gonna be in vibes and this one batman/riddler fic i read (i feel like it switches a bit in pov but i hope that isn’t too much of a bother!!)

SFW:

Edward is a sweet guy. A bit odd, but sweet- you think to yourself that there’s no real harm in being nice to him. It’s Gotham- people are already on edge and just kind of horrible to one another, and you, being as naïve and hopeful for the best, think that being nice to people is something that won’t do any harm. Especially to some dorky guy who comes in and orders pie at the restaurant that you work in. He tips well, and he isn’t rude to you, nor does he make any type of pass. No harm done in being nice. But then he gets touchy and it feels off. He lets his hand linger on yours for a bit longer than normal, and tries to make conversation that ultimately falls flat. He’s awkward and nervous, and saying yes to a date can’t lead to anything bad because it’s him, your loyal customer who leaves generous tips.

It’s surprising when you find yourself actually dating the lonesome man. The date was sweet- generic, but sweet nonetheless. He was a gentleman all throughout it, taking the subway with you to drop you off at your apartment, kissing your cheek and walking away without a fuss. He doesn’t want to impose himself on you- and now he knows where you live. Purely for innocent reasons of course! He’s clingy. He hadn’t realized just how starved for human connection he was until he met you. It’s as if he can’t get enough of you, latching onto you like a stray cat, always curling against you, never wanting you to rise even if you have to do something important. He loves to hold your hand, to turn it over and trace the lines on your palm, to compare hand sizes, and watch as you interlace your hand with his. Long when you’ve fallen asleep and his hand has grown clammy in yours, he still traces over the lines and kisses every inch of skin from the tips of your fingers down to your wrist. His hands ghost over your body, feeling your pulse thump under his finger, and trace up to your shoulder and to the soft part of your neck and hold his hand around your neck.

Finally, he’s allowed to be himself around you. He’s allowed to be needy and whiny, and that he is. He complains so much, and like the good partner you are, you listen, because you’ve seen him get angry before, and it’s someone you don’t recognize. It’s the little things about him that make him, him. He gets cold easily- from the tip of his nose that turns red and cheeks that soon match, to his hands that can hardly grasp onto anything. It’s during the cold nights at Gotham, where his shabby apartment has lost its heating again, that he remembers he has you. He’ll swallow his pride and take a late train, and stand outside your door, his knuckles red and feeling far more painful with the soft knocking than they should have when you open the door. You usher him in, and warm his hands slowly, and he says nothing during this time, watching you warm his hands with your own, or blowing warm breath against him, and he takes that moment to kiss you, and you yelp because of course, he’s still cold, but when he pulls away, you hold his face with your hands, and deepen the kiss.

There weren’t many warning signs that he was a possessive man, much less an obsessive man. Perhaps what should have tipped you off was the fact that he always broke something whenever you tried to leave during an argument. He asks you about work- if there’s anyone he should be worried about, and you say no. It gets harder and harder to leave his apartment, it takes at least an hour of convincing him that you’ll call him once you get home. It takes longer to convince him that he’s the only one for you. You have to kiss him, hold him, worship the ground that he walks on, lest he gets upset. He complains so much, and like the good partner you are, you listen, because you’ve seen him get angry before, and it’s someone you don’t recognize. He starts with little things- breaking into your home, stealing a few items, pocketing a few of your underwear into his jacket pocket, going through every inch of your drawers to find something, anything really.

Being comfortable in a relationship isn’t something Edward ever thought he could attain. He’s been so preoccupied with other things, that he has grown accustomed to you, he found himself to be far more fond of you than he could have ever imagined. But he still has things to do, and you’ve been getting in the way lately. You pester him about dates, and how he doesn’t spend enough time with you, and he’s been so patient with you. He’s taken you out to eat, he’s listened to you whine about your day- he’s been a good partner. Yet, you’ve still found a way to become more of a nuisance to him, and it would only be fair for him to complain, to bitch and moan like you have. But when he complains about the rich, about children dying in cold, about how people should pay for their wealth in blood, and how he hates that you still try to act like some respectable person when you’re nothing but a waiter, suddenly he’s gone too far. He throws a tantrum when you tell him you want to leave- it doesn’t matter if it’s the location or the relationship, you want to leave him. He smashes your things and calls you awful names until you’re back in a corner and he's holding something heavy, and when you start to cry, he cries harder. He gets on his knees and cries into your stomach, apologizing and telling you never again-just that he’s so stressed, but he cares for you so much that he doesn’t know what he would do if you left him.

NSFW:

Being a virgin isn’t something that he’s proud to admit. Anything close to being sexual makes him anxious- he isn’t sure how to tell you that he’s inexperienced. He’s been close with you, kissed you desperately, teeth clashing and hands scratching at your skin, desperately wanting to touch at your breasts and beneath your underwear. Of course, he’s touched himself, much more than usual now that you’re around, but it doesn't replace human contact- actually being intimate with another person, and knowing what you’re doing. He’s awkward, fumbling around and biting at your skin hard enough to leave his mark. The most Edward has ever gotten with you is going into your room when you aren’t home, careful to not leave a trace of himself anywhere, and sneak into your room and pull out a pair of dirty underwear that still reeks of you. He’s hidden in your closet and watched you undress yourself, watched how you let your hands roam your body and breathe heavily into the air. It’s unnerving how you don’t check in any nooks or crannies, but a blessing for him. He’ll enter your home and rub himself over your items, jerking himself onto your clean clothing, defiling every inch of your home in him, leaving everything in its place and when he gets home with you, he buries your face into a pillow that he’s already used.

He hates how clingy he is with you. It’s pathetic. He’s on top of you rubbing himself over, he’s not even kissing you anymore, he’s just rubbing himself over you. It’s desperate and gross, his mouth wetting at your neck to suck a bruise over your skin, hands pinching and clawing at your belly, giving harsher thrusts when you whine. His hands are over your breasts, pinching at your nipples and twisting them harshly to hear you whine all over again, to hear you curse and squirm underneath him. It’s uncomfortable in the room- too hot, too small, too tense for him to do anything other than rub himself over you. He absolutely loves fucking you. He loves to just hold your body close and leave a trail of wet kisses over your body. He wants to feel you, needs to be buried deep in you and stay there, have you warm his cock and take in the feeling that you’d let someone so vile and righteous to taint your body. Sometimes, he wishes that he could tie you up and leave you in his bedroom, and visit when he feels the world is a bit too much.

Looking at your sex is difficult, it’s just far too much. How you throb, glisten and drool with arousal- all for him- makes his head dizzy. He’s allowed to touch you, and he does so roughly, and poorly. He can make a bomb from scraps, but pleasing you is far too advanced for him, he licks broad strokes, and lets his spit coat all of you in some sort of primal way. He’s obsessed with your scent, pulling you close to him and shame has already left his body when he takes his time inhaling you, leaving his spit coat your sex and biting at the inside of your thighs, at the space too close to where your sex lies. Evidently, he prefers for you to pleasure him, to wrap your lips around his cockhead, and lap at his semen. It does something to him, to see you on your knees before him, spit and arousal coating your chin and mouth in a glistening veil, moaning and grabbing onto his soft thighs with your nails marking him in red crescents. You’re just so pretty when you’re on your knees, he can’t help but want to thrust into you, to hear you choke around him, to finish deep down your throat and hear you sputter out a cough when he’s finally released you.

It’s no surprise that he’s rough. It isn’t so much that he’s trying to be mean, he just can’t help it. He’s watched you at work. Of course, you have to make ends meet, so he doesn’t blame you when you lean over to pick up something on the floor, or let men touch your thigh and curve their hand inside, he has to bear it until he can get them alone. He’s not a mindless killer, but he is possessive, and there’s fear in him that you’d leave him for the next best thing, for someone to sweep you off your feet and provide for you. It’s after those thrills of kills, that he’s rough, pounding into you without any regard, clawing and biting at your skin, desperate to hear you cry his name and see tears in your eyes. He needs to be rough with you, so when you go to work the next day, you have to wear something underneath your work shirt to hide all the love bites. He wants it so you can’t look at your body without thinking of him.

Of course, he cares for you, he cherishes you so much, he loves you so much. But he's negligent and selfish in bed. Maybe it’s because it’s his first time and he’s so scared that you’d leave him that he’s trying to create all good memories for him, how you beg for him to cum, how you whine and roll your hips when he stops. How you slap his chest and lock your legs around him, pleasuring yourself when it’s clear that he’s just treating you like a sex doll. Edward can be so kind, but being deprived of any human touch has tarnished him. It’s made him selfish, seeking out his own pleasure, riding his second wave when you’ve only reached your first. When he rolls over beside you, spent and exhausted, but cock still up and red tipped, he has you ride him, hungry to feel you twitch around him. He wants nothing more than to fuck you, for you to fuck him.

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