#ivy x harley x reader

[ollielovesjisoo]

Omfg I LOOOVE Harley would totes be in a polyamorous relationship with her and the joker if I could

I used to like Ivy and then I didn't but now I do again?? 😭

Idk but the idea of being in a relationship with Harley and Ivy is definitely appealing...

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐯𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ      

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[marcyvamp1re-blog]

ৎ୭. . . VIRAGO ─── Damian Wayne

Part 1 & 2

⊹ ٬ Headcanon. Between laughter, jealousy, and secrets, a mother and a lover compete for the heart of someone who has already chosen their path. Harley clings to the past. Damian waits for the future. And in between, a story of growth, goodbyes, and unbreakable love. Because in the end, no matter where they go, there will always be a home to return to.

⊹ ٬ Word Count. 9,4k

⊹ ٬ Content. MDNI. Fluff, Platonic Cuddling, Dark themes, violence, trauma, invasion of privacy, Angst, disturbing content, corruption, paranoia, vulgar or strong language, mental health, toxic relationships (not Damian and Reader), destruction,

「Strong, brave or warrior woman

who demonstrates exemplary or heroic qualities」

Damian Wayne was not meant to attend classes like an ordinary kid. No. He was the grandson of the Head of the Demon, the legitimate heir to a bloody and millennia-old tradition. But he was also the son of the Bat, and as long as Bruce Fucking Wayne ruled his family, he would fulfill the tedious duty of attending Gotham's most elitist private school.

He thought it would be easy. Study and that's it. Simple. But soon he realized that being a “normal” student at Gotham High was like being a wolf trying to pass as a sheep.

His intelligence—his most valuable weapon—was seen as an eccentricity, almost an indelible stain in an environment of boys who believed their gilded surnames and even more gilded wallets were all that mattered. He couldn’t make friends. The kids looked at him as if he were a robot from a nightmare with his cutting remarks and sharp vocabulary. The girls only saw his last name, not him.

Until you showed up.

Damian hated group projects. He hated even more when everyone pounced on him like hungry crows as soon as the teacher uttered the words: “Choose a partner.” It was always the same. “Can we work together, Wayne?” “I’m sure you’ll do great, right?” “My dad says your dad is very important.”

That day, he saw you dozing in the back row, your head tilted on the desk while a trickle of drool threatened to escape the corner of your lips. Despicable. Although... at least honest.

“Do you want to do the project with me?” he asked, because his father’s basic education forced him to phrase it as a question.

“You’re going to do the project with me!” was what you heard, although nothing could be further from the truth.

The next thing happened so quickly that Damian had to blink to make sure it wasn’t a hallucination born from his frustration. You jumped as if you’d received an electric shock and hugged him so tightly that for a moment he feared you might break a rib.

“Yes, yes, yes! It’s going to be an explosive and fascinating project! Can you imagine? We could make a volcano that really erupts or a robot that shoots confetti or...!”

Damian froze as your high-pitched voice spewed nonsensical ideas with the same excitement as a dog seeing its favorite toy. Your eyes sparkled with a mix of madness and innocence he had never seen before.

“You're annoying,” he murmured.

“And you're such a ray of sunshine!” you cheerfully replied, still not letting go of him.

It was at that precise moment that Damian understood this project was going to be a nightmare. But there was something about you that intrigued him... maybe because you were the first person who really looked at him and not at his last name.

But of course, he would never admit that out loud.

Alfred tried to hide his surprise when you showed up at Wayne Manor to study. Of course, he concealed it well behind his usual neat British demeanor, but Damian noticed. Who wouldn’t?

First, you said you had walked there. Who the hell walks to Wayne Manor from Gotham City? That already raised suspicions. But the real shock came when Damian greeted you at the door.

Wild hair, cut in a style that screamed rebellion and creativity, with streaks of red and blue that made it look like you had just run through a furious rainbow. Contemporary, colorful clothing that anyone would say you had fought with a clown and won. Brightly colored knee-high boots that clicked on the marble entrance.

Even Duke, who had bulletproof patience, peeked through the door to take a look. The guy expected another mini Dracula like Damian, not a clown doll freshly escaped from a carnival.

“Wow, this mansion looks like Dracula's house,” you exclaimed, looking at the walls with wide, bright eyes as he led you through the hallways to the study room.

Damian glanced at you sideways, ready to unleash a sarcastic comment... but when he realized it, he was already laughing. Yes, laughing. Something he hadn’t even been sure he could do without his lungs refusing to cooperate until that day.

As strange as it sounded, he was having fun.

You were explosive, loud, witty, but good at what you did. It was like working alongside a lightning bolt in colorful sneakers. And when you focused, you were genuinely smart. Odd, yes, but clever. Something that didn’t happen often among the superficial crowd of Gotham High.

As the afternoon wore on, you loosened up and told him a bit about your life. How you lived with your mother, a woman with the same chaotic euphoria as you, but obsessed with your father: a gangster whose name you didn’t mention, but described with a mix of disdain and confused affection.

“My mom loves me, but since she always does what dad says, I have to learn to take care of myself.” You said this while finishing painting a perfectly detailed bomb on the project, as if talking about family traumas was as casual as discussing the weather.

Damian watched you in silence. That phrase hung in the air like a haunting ghost he understood all too well.

“Sometimes I’m scared... that she’ll choose him over me.”

He understood. Of course he did. Because sometimes he was also afraid his mother would choose anything before him. Power, legacy... the League.

But of course, he wasn’t going to get sentimental in front of you. Especially with the hidden audience behind the door. Alfred, your pets, Jason, Dick, Cass, Tim, Steph, Babs, Duke, even Bruce, all spying with the same discretion as an elephant in a tea room.

“Everything okay, Wayne?” you asked, tilting your head with a smile so wide it seemed out of place in a castle like that.

“Sure,” he replied, not giving it much thought.

And so they continued working. He discovering that maybe not all people who came into his life were destined to be a problem.

Of course, being you, that was just a matter of time.

Damian had never had a real friend. Not one who wanted nothing from him other than his company. So, when the project ended and you kept showing up to pounce on him with a loud, overflowing hug of energy, he didn’t know what to do.

Dick thought it was charming. “Friends do fun things together,” he told him with that broad smile that seemed straight out of a damn cereal commercial. “They go out for ice cream, watch movies, or just... are there.”

Damian didn’t quite understand the last part. But he understood enough to know that your eyes lit up every time you mentioned the word “baseball.” So one day, without even knowing why, he took you to the practice field.

“Really?” you exclaimed, with such pure excitement that it almost felt like an insult.

“It’s no big deal,” he shrugged. But even he knew it sounded too clumsy to be believable.

What happened next was a wonderful chaos. You swung the bat with the same passion a warrior would wield a sword. Every hit you made was accompanied by a shout of joy or some laughter that escaped you as if you couldn’t contain it.

Damian threw the ball to you over and over again, not completely understanding why it was so much fun. But the fact that you were happy seemed to make him happy too. And although he would never admit it out loud, it became almost a weekly ritual.

Sometimes, after practice, he’d drag you to an ice cream shop. Your way of devouring absurd flavors like “Smurf Ice Cream” or “Sour Caramel” was fascinating. Ridiculous, but fascinating.

“You have ice cream on your nose,” he said, arms crossed as he tried not to laugh.

“Well, you have ice in your heart!” you cheerfully replied, licking the ice cream as if that were the most logical answer in the world.

Other times, he’d take you to watch movies, because Dick insisted that “Friends watch movies together, Dami.” Of course, he didn’t expect you to prefer the bloodiest and most absurd horror films possible.

“Look, look, here comes the monster with fifty knives in its head,” you commented between laughs, enjoying the terrible performances more than the plot itself.

It was absurd. Everything they did together was absurd. But it made him happy. It made him feel... free. Like for the first time, he didn’t have to be the heir, the warrior, or the perfect son. Just Damian.

But, like everything in his life, happiness lasted as long as a blink.

He arrived at school one day, with the usual hope of seeing you dozing in the back row, drool falling from your mouth and the smile ready to yell something ridiculous that made him feel like everything was okay.

But you weren’t there.

The teachers told him you had dropped out. That you didn’t have the funds to continue at that luxurious and superficial school that had never been made for someone like you.

Damian tried to find you. He turned to contacts he shouldn’t have used for something so... personal. But your name sounded like a ghost. No trace. No signal.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Finally, he accepted that maybe you were never going to show up again.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do well. Try to forget you.

But it didn’t matter how many times he repeated that he didn’t care, that you were nothing, there was always an echo of your laughter resonating in his mind. There was always that absurd memory of you excitedly shouting about hitting a ball with a bat, as if it were the most incredible thing in the world.

And worst of all was that, in a way, it really was.

Years passed in the blink of an eye, dragging him into the whirlwind of Gotham, the League, the Teen Titans, and everything that meant being Robin. Fights with assassins, gods, and impossible creatures became his routine. He had grown, changed, learned to live with the weight of the mantle he wore.

He had made friends. Jon Kent, always so ridiculously optimistic that he sometimes seemed like a sun with legs. Flatline, with her dark humor and that dangerous smile that challenged him daily. And of course, the Titans, a chaotic group of teenagers dealing with their problems while saving the world.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared him to see you again.

It was his first day of high school. Gotham’s private school was just as ridiculous as always, full of rich brats who cared more about the latest brand of clothing than anything that really mattered. But he was there for a reason: to blend his life as Robin with the facade of a normal teenager.

And then, there you were.

You had grown. Your hair, although still carrying that rebellious essence, now fell in tousled, styled locks, with touches of red and blue that shone under the fluorescent lights. The clothes you wore were... eye-catching, but not childish. It was as if you had found your own style playing between androgynous and extravagant. Everything about you seemed to challenge the world.

But the worst, or the best, was that you were still you. That wide, sparkling smile that seemed ready to explode into laughter at any moment. Your eyes sparkled with the same intensity as always, as if you hadn’t lost a shred of that wild euphoria that had so bewildered him.

And then you turned and saw him.

“Damian!” you shouted with that exaggerated voice that seemed like a show in itself. You didn’t care that the whole hallway turned to look at you. You didn’t care about anything. Because all you did was launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around him as if no years had passed.

“What the hell...?” Damian exclaimed, not knowing whether to step back or return the hug. In the end, his body decided for him, and his arms awkwardly tightened around you.

“What are you doing here?!” you said, with a tone that mixed genuine surprise and pure joy. It was as if you had never left. As if you had never been a ghost he had desperately tried to forget.

“I study here,” he replied with that seriousness that sometimes made people mistake him for a grumpy doll. But you just laughed, as always.

“Wow! I never thought Dracula would have to deal with algebra like a mere mortal.”

“I’m not a vampire,” he grunted, frowning even though a part of him wanted to smile. It was absurd how you returned to his life as if nothing had happened.

“Sure, sure. But you’re still just as grumpy.” You finally let him go, although you remained close enough that he couldn’t escape.

And that was it. In a matter of seconds, you were already talking to him about your things as if years hadn’t passed. As if you hadn’t left him with an inexplicable void when you disappeared.

You had changed, yes. Taller, with more attitude, as if challenging the entire world had become your new favorite pastime. But you were still you. Chaotic, unpredictable, and... radiant.

“So, are we skipping class and doing something fun?” you asked with a mischievous smile, as if that were the most logical thing in the world.

“No,” he replied automatically. Because of course, he was Damian Wayne. The responsible one, the serious one, the one who never strayed from the right path.

“Bah, always so boring. But I missed you, Dami. I’m glad you’re here.” And your voice sounded softer, almost sweet, as you took a small step back and smiled at him with that eternal spark in your eyes.

Damian didn’t know what to say. Because somehow, those words had ignited something within him that he thought he had buried along with the memory of that girl who dragged him to play baseball and laugh at bad movies.

“I’m glad you’re here too,” he finally admitted, in a whisper so low he almost thought he had imagined it.

But the smile you gave him was enough to know you had heard him.

Your friendship with Damian had picked up right where it had left off. Among laughter, challenges, and outings that didn’t always end well but were always fun. Dinners at Wayne Manor became a regular occurrence, with Bruce trying to be the awkward dad and all the Batkids secretly laughing at how different you were from any friend Damian had ever had before.

Because let’s be honest, you didn’t care one bit if Damian was rich, serious, or mortally sarcastic. To you, he was simply Dami. A grumpy, prickly kid who, despite his tough facade, always ended up giving in to your crazy ideas.

Of course, he never told you about his other life. Not about Robin, not about his mother, not about the thousand and one dark secrets he carried. But it wasn’t like he needed to. Because sometimes, people spoke.

The rumors at school were like whispers that slid through the hallways like snakes. Robin was always watching from the same place, an abandoned building in downtown Gotham. Like a proud crow surveying the city.

And your gang—yes, because you had made new friends too—challenged you to something no one else had dared: throwing paint at Robin from the rooftop. A prank. A game. What could go wrong?

The answer: Everything.

That night was your first big teenage stupidity. You climbed the building with a can of green paint in hand, trembling with nerves but refusing to back down. And there he was, just as they said he would be, the dark cape fluttering in the wind as his eyes scanned the city as if every shadow was a potential enemy.

You didn’t think too much about it. Because if you had, you would have realized it was a terrible idea. You simply raised the can and threw the paint at him with all your strength.

The green splattered on his right shoulder, spattering in irregular patterns on his cape and part of his mask. At first, Robin stood still. As if his brain refused to process what had just happened. But then, he slowly turned his head towards you, those green eyes glaring at you as if you had committed the worst sin in the universe.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he roared in a voice so low and furious that a chill ran down your spine.

“Oh, shit!” you exclaimed, with a nervous smile. Because of course, everything was funny until the paint touched the bird.

Without waiting for a response, you took off running. And he was right behind you.

You knew he was fast. Everyone said so. But you never thought he would be this fast. His shadow moved like a damn ghost behind you, his footsteps echoing on the rooftops as you jumped from building to building like a deranged goat.

“Wait!” he shouted with a tone that mixed anger and disbelief. As if he couldn’t believe someone could be foolish enough to throw paint at him and then try to escape.

“Not a chance!” you yelled back, almost laughing as your lungs burned from effort. Because yes, you were terrified. But you were also excited. Because at the end of the day, you were you. The chaotic girl who never knew when to stop.

But running 20 kilometers wasn’t exactly something your body could handle. And when your legs began to weaken and your breathing turned into an irregular gasp, he seized the opportunity.

He leaped from a higher building and landed right in front of you, his eyes shining with a wild fury that almost seemed inhuman.

“Game over,” he declared, his voice so low and threatening that it almost made you laugh at how dramatically he sounded.

“Are you going to kill me, crazy bird? Because if you do, I’ll be the happiest dead girl in Gotham,” you replied, trying to sound brave but aware that you probably looked like a delirious idiot.

“No. But I’m going to teach you a lesson,” he said, and before you could react, he had picked you up as if you weighed nothing and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Hey! Put me down! You’re lucky I don’t have anything explosive right now, because I’d blow your butt up!” you shouted as you kicked the air and tried to break free.

“That’s what worries me,” he murmured, with that irritated tone that characterized him so well.

The next thing you knew, he took you to an alley where, surprisingly, he didn’t throw you against the wall or lecture you like a boring adult. Instead, he set you down on the ground and crossed his arms, looking at you with a mix of exasperation and... curiosity?

You noticed something strange, even under the thick layer of green paint.

That hair, that posture, those calculated movements. Everything fit together in an unsettling way.

“...Damian!?” Your eyes widened, surprise barely contained in your voice.

From that moment on, everything changed. You discovered your friend was Robin, and you never missed an opportunity to tease him about it. But between the jokes and the knowing smiles, you swore him something with all the sincerity you could muster.

“I’ll never say a word. I’ll keep it forever.”

And so it was. The pact sealed with the innocence of youth remained intact. Until one ordinary afternoon, returning from the baseball field with the sun setting on your backs, you decided to confide in him your own truth.

“There’s something I need to tell you...” you murmured, looking down, kicking an imaginary stone as you walked.

Damian frowned, alert as always.

“What’s wrong?”

“My mom... well, the one who raised me... is Harley Quinn.” You blurted it out, as if the words weighed more with each second they remained trapped in your chest.

He blinked, surprised, before opening his mouth.

“The crazy Harley?”

“Don’t call my mom crazy!” you retorted firmly, even though your voice wavered a little. “She was going through a rough patch with my dad, that’s all...”—You diverted your gaze before adding—“Besides, she’s not my biological mom, so I don’t have any physical or mental issues... other than some weird habits, I guess. So don’t worry.”

Damian watched you in silence, his calculating gaze trying to unravel the truth behind your words. But in his eyes, there was also something more. Something akin to acceptance.

Because deep down, they both knew they shared secrets too big for their age. And that bound them in a way no one else could.

And so, the more secrets they shared, the closer they became. Confessions in hushed voices under starry skies or during endless walks united them in a way neither of them expected. Until one day, something changed.

Damian asked you out. Not to train, not to spend time teasing each other, but to dinner. Formal. In an upscale restaurant, with white tablecloths and lit candles. You showed up in a dress that, although eye-catching as always, exuded a unique elegance. He had also made an effort; the usual rigidity in his posture softened by a barely concealed nervousness.

That night was different. For the first time, they allowed themselves to truly see each other, beyond the jokes or the friendship they had built. They spoke with an honesty that only arises when two souls decide to fully open up. And at some point in the conversation, they both surprised themselves thinking the same thing: “How didn’t I realize before how attractive he is?”

At the end of the evening, everything was perfectly planned, courtesy of Dick’s unmistakable intervention, who seemed to enjoy organizing that special moment far too much.

Damian mentally prepared himself to take the big step as they walked back toward your neighborhood. But to his surprise—and perhaps annoyance—it was you who spoke first.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” you blurted out, without preambles, without introductions.

Damian blinked, visibly taken aback. His lips parted as if searching for an appropriate response, but in the end, he could only sigh and smile resignedly.

“I was supposed to say that,” he murmured in a tone that tried to sound annoyed, although amusement sparkled in his eyes.

From that day on, everything changed. You spent both mornings and nights together, sharing something much deeper than the simple camaraderie that had united you in the beginning. There was something authentic, warm, and solid in your relationship that neither of you was willing to let go.

But if anything defined Damian, it was his protectiveness. Perhaps it was his vigilant nature or his endless list of responsibilities, but he was always aware of everything that happened around you. He worried about whether you were eating well, about your complicated relationship with Harley, about the people you hung out with, and especially about keeping you away from any gang that might cross your path.

That’s how you came to an agreement: he would teach you to defend yourself. The training sessions became an essential part of your routine, as habitual as baseball games or nighttime walks. Damian taught you to fight with the seriousness that characterized him, correcting every movement with patience— or the closest he could get to patience. Sometimes, he even took you on missions from afar, showing you how to act in critical situations without exposing yourself too much.

Your relationship with Harley gradually deteriorated. At least for her.

For you, everything remained the same. Or so you thought.

The morning egg sandwich tradition, for example. That sacred tradition between mother and daughter. Once again, you walked together through the streets of Gotham, which miraculously, under the sunlight, seemed a little less frightening.

Harley, with her usual energy, approached the food cart and ordered two egg sandwiches without a second thought.

But this time, you stopped her.

“Today I prefer a vegan sandwich, thanks.”

You said it without looking up from your phone, distracted by some nonsense on the screen.

Harley froze. Her white-painted face contorted into an expression of absolute horror, as if you had said you wanted to leave Gotham to join a Tibetan monastery.

“A... what?”

“A vegan sandwich,” you repeated, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

Harley’s eyes widened like saucers. She looked at the vendor as if expecting him to say it was a joke. But no, the betrayal was real.

From there, the changes became increasingly evident.

Friday taco nights with the girls, once sacred, disappeared.

“It’s taco Friday, kiddo!” Harley reminded you with enthusiasm.

“I can’t, I have plans,” you replied dismissively.

Your plans? Watching movies at “a friend’s” house. A mysterious friend. One who Harley didn’t know... or maybe she did.

Before, you always matched in your outfits, wearing matching leather jackets or some shared reference in your attire. But now you bought your own clothes. You dressed how you wanted, without worrying about what she thought.

Harley tried to seek support from her friends.

“Is she going through something? Is she in a weird phase?”

“She’s growing up, Harls,” Ivy and Selina told her with a smile that said “this is normal.”

But for her, it wasn’t.

Desperate, she turned to Batman.

“You have, what? Five kids? Six? Help me, bat!”

Batman merely looked at her in silence, with his typical “I have no time for this” face.

“I’m not exactly a parenting role model.”

Harley huffed. Yes, that was crystal clear.

But then she started noticing things.

You came home with bruises. You were evasive with her questions. You didn’t tell her anything.

At first, she thought maybe you were just being reserved. Teenager, independent. But then, seeing you arrive hurt once again, with a furrowed brow and an evasive look...

She thought of the worst, that maybe you were still hanging out with gangs of aspiring teenage killers or drug lords, that the Joker had found you and decided to take you as a bomb kid, or worse... that you had a secret boyfriend who was abusive to you... just like she had experienced.

She had had enough.

She wasn’t going to sit by while you drifted further and further away.

So she took matters into her own hands.

It was a quiet night... until it stopped being so.

Four in the morning. As usual, you were ready to say goodbye with a kiss at the window, as you always did. Something sweet, discreet... the norm.

But at the exact moment your lips barely brushed against Damian’s...

Chaos.

Three giant hyenas burst out from under your bed with growls that shook the walls. And as if that weren’t enough, Harley Quinn, in full ninja form, dropped from the ceiling with a baseball bat in hand.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!” she roared with the fury of a mother who had just discovered the ultimate betrayal.

Survival instinct took control.

You slammed the window shut, leaving Damian trapped in the railing as your mother and her hyenas tried to get to him.

“Mom, calm down!” you interposed between her and the window, raising your hands in a sign of peace.

Harley looked at you with a furrowed brow, her eyes blazing with fury.

“Calm down?! I just saw my little girl making out with that demon bird!”

“It’s not what it looks like...”

But it was what it looked like.

And worst of all was that Harley already hated Damian to begin with.

Because, among all the Robins, he was the one she could stand the least.

He was arrogant. He was bossy. He was Batman’s son.

And now... he was kissing her daughter.

Maybe this was karma for all the crimes Harley had committed in her life.

Or maybe... it was destiny giving her a direct punch in the face.

Literally, because at that moment she raised the bat with the intention of using it.

In the end, Harley had to swallow her words. And the rest is history.

It wasn’t easy. It couldn’t be.

Because, after all, they both knew something was wrong. That things had changed.

And that nothing would ever be the same again.

For the first time in a long time, they sat down to talk. For real. No shouting, no all-out battles with hyenas involved. Just mother and daughter, trying to find their way back to each other.

Harley sighed, running a hand through her messy blonde hair.

“I wasn’t prepared for this,” she admitted softly.

And for the first time, you saw her vulnerable. Not the criminal, not the crazy psychologist, not the woman who could knock someone’s face off without a second thought. Just a scared mother.

“I wasn’t prepared for a baby, and now I’m supposed to be ready for you to grow up and become independent?” she let out a bitter laugh. “Hell, I can barely take care of myself!”

Her words hurt. Because you knew they were true.

But that didn’t change reality.

So you did what you knew best: you told her the truth.

All of it. From dating Damian to your nighttime escapades as a heroine.

She listened in silence, her lips pressed together and her arms crossed. She looked sulky, annoyed... but not surprised.

And in the end, she accepted reality. Not because she wanted to, but because she had no other choice.

Then she wrapped you in a hug.

A strong, crushing, desperate hug.

A hug that said everything words couldn’t.

That she loved you. That she would never stop loving you.

That she needed you, just as much as you needed her.

And at that moment, you knew.

That even though everything changed... even if you fought, argued, drove each other crazy... there would always be a common point.

You would always be Harley and her.

Whether it was stealing marshmallows at midnight or simply sharing a night under the stars.

Harley sighed against your hair, with a tired smile.

“Puberty sucks.”

For the first time in a long time, you laughed together.

“Yes, Mom...” you smiled. “It totally sucks.”

And then, everything changed again.

Now, you dated Damian normally while also spending time with your mother. A balance between two worlds that, for anyone else, would be impossible. But for you... well, let’s just say you were used to chaos.

Of course, life is never simple.

There were moments when everything went well. And then, out of nowhere, BOOM, explosive surprises at the worst possible time.

Like when Bruce Wayne, in an extreme gesture of formality—and perhaps hoping to prevent his son from becoming even more antisocial—invited you and Harley to dinner after you and Damian had been together for a year.

It almost felt like you were sealing a marriage.

You, in your naivety, thought it was just a quiet dinner. Something casual, relaxed, without pressure. You wore normal clothes, as you would any other day.

But Harley had other ideas.

“Casual?!” she exclaimed, horrified, as she pulled dresses from her wardrobe as if she were choosing outfits for the Oscars. “This isn’t just any dinner; this is a declaration of social war.”

“It’s just Bruce Wayne, Mom...”

“IT’S BRUCE FUCKING WAYNE. Do you know how many times he’s tried to throw me in Arkham? At least fifty! And now, I’m going to sit at his table, with class and elegance, and I’ll show him his son chose well!”

Spoiler: Harley's “elegance” consisted of a bright red sequined dress, shiny heels, and a faux fur coat... accompanied by her baseball bat, which she insisted on bringing “for safety.”

Bruce didn’t flinch. He was probably used to it by now.

But Damian did.

He spent the entire dinner with tense shoulders and a pure look of resignation as Harley threw him comments like:

“So, Birdie, what intentions do you have with my daughter?”

“Not enough to justify this interrogation.”

“Look at you being all clever! Hey, how about we have a game night? Something like... I don’t know... Russian Roulette.”

“Mom…”

Damian slowly sipped his water, wondering if it was really worth continuing this relationship.

But the worst came afterward.

When it was you who invited Damian over.

You thought you would be alone.

Beginner’s mistake.

Because the moment you settled with him on the couch, the door burst open, and Harley appeared, triumphant, with a giant bag of Chinese food.

“Surprise!” she sang, throwing herself onto the couch next to you two. “I brought food and a movie.”

Damian looked at you. You looked at Damian.

“Mom... what are you doing here?”

“Oh, don’t worry, I just wanted to spend time with you,” she replied, casually opening a box of noodles. “And with your boyfriend.”

Immediately, she turned on the TV and put on a movie... while staring intently at Damian.

Without blinking... For two hours.

At some point, Damian whispered in your ear:

“Your mom is analyzing my soul as if I were Katana.”

“Don’t worry, that’s her way of showing affection.”

“That doesn’t reassure me.”

And so the night passed, with Harley noisily chewing her Chinese food, Damian resisting the urge to pull out a sword purely for survival instinct, and you... well, you simply accepted your fate.

Soon it became clear as an irrefutable fact: Harley was jealous of Damian to the core.

No matter how much she said she had accepted you were growing up, that you weren’t a little girl anymore, that you had the right to your independence, the truth was...

She didn’t fully accept it.

And the worst part was that she didn’t even try to hide it.

Every time you were with Damian, she appeared.

It was as if she had a sixth sense for detecting when you were about to enjoy a romantic moment.

“Surprise!” she shouted one day, popping out from a trash can.

You almost fainted.

Damian, on the other hand, just sighed.

“How did you get in there?”

“Don’t underestimate a mother!”

Another day, you were walking hand in hand in the park, enjoying the silence, when suddenly...

“HELLO, LOVE BIRDS!”

Harley appeared from the treetop, dressed in a squirrel costume.

“Why are you dressed like that?!” you asked, horrified.

“Camouflage, sweetheart.”

Damian closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and whispered:

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s really worth it...”

But Damian was smarter than she was.

And that hurt him.

Because every time Harley tried to get between you, he found a way to turn the situation to his advantage.

When Harley decided to infiltrate an upscale restaurant disguised as a waitress to spy on your date, Damian simply said:

“Oh, thank you,” taking the menu she offered him. “Please bring me your most expensive dish.”

“Damian! It’s my mom!”

“Exactly, and if she wants to be a waitress, she should do it well.”

When Harley insisted on interrogating Damian about his future plans, he replied in a completely serious tone:

“I plan to marry your daughter and call you ‘mother-in-law’ until the end of time.”

“YOU WON’T!”

“Just to annoy you, I will.”

And so the years passed.

Despite Harley’s jealousy, you and Damian stayed together.

You overcame fights, challenges, family crises, villain attacks, and oh yes, the near end of the world.

And when adulthood arrived, when there were no more excuses, when life pushed you to make a decision, you made it.

You moved in with Damian.

It was a difficult goodbye.

Not because you wouldn’t see her again, but because it was the end of an era.

You stood at the front door, your bags ready, with Damian waiting for you in the car, and Harley...

Looking at you with an expression you had never seen before.

For the first time, she wasn’t joking. She wasn’t jealous, or annoyed, or dramatic.

Just... sad.

“So...,” she murmured, crossing her arms. “So this is how it goes, huh?”

“This is how it goes.”

“You become an adult, make your own decisions, leave with your boyfriend... and leave me alone like a crazy old woman.”

“Mom...”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said, raising a hand. “I’m strong. I can handle it. Just tell me one thing, sweetheart...”

She paused, her blue eyes shining with something between nostalgia and pride.

“Are you happy?”

It took you a moment to answer.

Because there were so many things to say.

So many memories, so many moments, so many laughs, so many absurd fights, so many times you wanted to escape but always came back.

And yet, you could only say what mattered.

“Yes, Mom. I’m happy.”

Harley took a deep breath.

And, without warning, hugged you.

A long, strong hug, one of those that leave a mark.

“Then...,” she whispered against your hair. “It’s okay.”

No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much she wished she could stop time, no matter how unprepared she would ever be to let you go...

She let you go.

But you knew one thing for sure.

No matter where you were, or with whom, or how grown-up you became.

There would always be a part of you that would be that little girl stealing marshmallows with her mom in the kitchen.

And always, no matter the distance, no matter the future, no matter the time...

You would come home.

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

How different marvel and dc characters would hold your face:

Tony stark, loki, bucky Barnes, Bruce wayne, Oliver queen, Dawn Granger, donna troy, Carter Hall

Thor, Clint Barton, Agatha harkness, rio vidal, Jason todd, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Diana prince, Dinah lance,

The joker, poison ivy, harley Quinn, Jason todd, logan howlett, Mystique, Erik Lehnsherr

Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker, Peter quill, natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff, bruce banner , dick grayson, Tim drake, Barry allen, John Stewart

[redr0sewrites]

As you're writing for DC now, can we get pegging headcannons for Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy & Wonder Woman x male! reader?

🥀A/n: UHM YES HELLO??)? i genuinely cooked so hard w this one ngl.

🥀Character(s): Harley Quinn x reader, Poison Ivy x reader, Wonder Woman x reader

🥀Cw: smut, pegging, sub!male!reader, slight feminization in HQ's part, impact play, bondage, cock/strap used interchangeably, strap sucking, oral fixation mention, dirty talk

🥀minors dni

Harley Quinn:

Harley would be soo mean about it, she's definitely mocking you and giggling the whole time while forcing you to take her strap. she takes prep very seriously, and would absolutely make you wear a butt plug beforehand to make sure you're nice and prepped for her

speaking of her strap, it is very her. its a bright red with glitter, and is definitely at least 8 inches. it has a very prominent tip with the slightest arch that can reach all the sweet spots inside you. you cannot tell me she wouldn't buy a vibrating strap for shits and giggles, she loves to torture you (lovingly ofc)

definitely buys you one of those monster dildos/straps as a gag gift, im talking a full 12 inches with tentacles and ridges. it starts off as a joke, but it isn't long before curiosity gets the best of both of you and she's bending you over the mattress, splitting you in two with her "monster cock" as she calls it

Harley has a brutal pace when pegging you, she's fast and rough and oh so mean. definitely hits it from the back, she looves doggy style and when you get all weak and shaky under her touch? it only makes her even meaner

likes slapping your ass and pushing you around while she pegs you. is infatuated by the sight of her cock sliding in and out of your hole, and loves to watch your ass cheeks jiggle with each thrust. if you're down for it, Harley would definitely buy you a pretty collar she can tug and play with while she fucks you senseless. she loves to mark whats hers, and makes sure to leave a heft amount of bite marks and hickeys across your necks and shoulders.

buys you lingerie just to peg you in it. lacy thigh garters with pretty panties in the color scheme of her clown costume, with a frilly bralette to match. Harley doesn't care how embarrassed you get, she's fucking you silly while switching between calling you her pretty princess or her dirty slut

loves groping your pecs and calling them tits while she fucks you, and when you whimper or complain she coos about how you're such a whiny whore. claims you "cry like a girl", and mocks you for being all needy and depraved

"aw, takin' me up the ass so well, dolly. betcha never played with your prostate like this before, huh toots? who knew all it took was f'me to fuck ya, and then you'd behave like the little bitch you are.."

very rarely touches your cock while pegging you, she's confident you can get off from the prostate stimulation alone. however, she's definitely down for double tapping and would love to fuck you from both ends with her strap and a sounding rod one day

while she can be very rough and degrading, i do think Harley finds importance in aftercare and is very sweet with you once it's all over. she'll tease you a bit, but will get you a warm towel to wipe you off and bring you some food and water. she has a very high libido though, so showering after sex with her often leads to another round... not that you'd mind

"you really are a little slut, aren't cha?" sharp, red nails leave a crescent shaped mark on your hips while Harley's free hand presses down on your lower back, forcing you into a deeper arch as she fucks you senseless. your drooling and moaning into the pillows while your thighs shake from the brutal pace she's set. the lacy thong she had bought you for the occasion had been torn off, but the thigh high socks, garters, and glittery, sheer bra remained untouched- for now.

your cock twitches, pressed between your tummy and the mattress, and you can't help but hump slightly, desperate for friction. you can't tell if you're grinding downwards against the bed for relief for your hard cock, or if you're grinding backwards for more friction against your abused hole. Harley leans onto you a little more, forcing your ass higher into the air so her strap can reach even deeper inside your gummy walls.

Harley watches, mesmerized, as her thick cock slides in and out of your leaking hole, ramming against that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. she notices your desperation, watching closely as you grind like a bitch in heat. the hand on your hip suddenly moves to grasp your leaking cock, and she snickers when you whimper. your dick twitches in her palm, desperate for any form of stimulation.

"aw, are you gonna cum all over yourself? jus' from me fucking ya silly?" she sneers as you grind your cock against her hand, mind lost in pleasure. "what a pretty, dumb whore you are," Harley coos, her pace unrelenting as you begin to sob. "go on doll, you can cum. but don't think 'm done with ya just yet~"

Poison Ivy/Pamela Isley:

Pamela probably wouldn't know much about pegging to begin with but is definitely willing to try it. she's a very confident and self assured dom, so as long as you're comfortable she's down to try pretty much anything

her strap is very pretty, a matte black or green with a few prominent veins. i think her strap would be about 7-8 inches but no more than that, but it would have a decent girth to it as well. big enough to where you feel the stretch, but not so much that it hurts (unlike Harley who wants you to suffer)

fingers you for prep, loves stretching you out and making you cum before she even puts her strap in. her fingers are long, slender, and very pretty, perfect for hitting that sweet spot inside you

i think Pamela would prefer to have you in her lap when she pegs you, with your hands tied behind your back with her vines. she's not as mean as much as she's condescending, switching between praising and degrading you so much it makes your mind all fuzzy

loves to tie you down in general. Pamela very rarely lets you touch her while she's pegging you, instead keeping you bound (and sometimes gagged) and completely at her mercy

COCKWARMING!!!! teases you mercilessly while forcing you to sit on her lap, staying immobile for what feels like hours while she toys with your nipples or kneads the flesh of your thighs. she'll occasionally stroke your cock with her nails, dragging upwards from the base to your twitching tip, only to stop when you do so much as gasp or whine. absolutely makes you suckle on her tits, the sight of you looking up at her with big, innocent doe eyes with one of her breasts in your mouth makes her absolutely feral

loveeesss when you struggle to ride her, grinding down on her strap and blushing like a mess. Pamela forces you to make eye contact with her as she finds it very intimate, and will get irritated if you look away or cover your eyes. she'll also get annoyed if you try to hide your moans or stifle any of your noises

if youre being bratty, she will sometimes offer to let you "take control" and fuck yourself, claiming that "since you're a big boy and can handle yourself, you can pleasure yourself as well". you both know that she's gonna take over for you eventually, but she just enjoys watching you squirm and struggle

puts your cock in a chastity cage while she pegs you so you can't even cum, but will be praising you for taking her so well the entire time. i think she'd find twisted pleasure in watching you cry or beg, so she's definitely edging you until your pleading with her to cum

makes you call her ma'am or mistress, and very occasionally will refer to herself as mommy

Pamela is a little bit into breathe play/choking imo. not enough to make you pass out or hurt you too badly, but definitely to the point where her hand is clamped tight around your throat as she fucks you. she'll keep her hand tight on your throat to help maneuver you as well, especially when she's trying to switch positions or force you to make eye contact

she hates when you get shy or awkward. shes splitting you open on her cock and you're looking away from her? how rude! she's pegging you hard until you apologize, murmuring in your ear and treating you almost like a child. she whispers to you about how she's seen you in even more compromising positions, so don't look away, or else she'll be forced to punish you.

definitely has a high stamina, and probably rides you for a little after pegging you just to bring you both to one more release. Pamela is very cleanly in my opinion, so she definitely prefers to shower or bathe after sex. she's very sweet w aftercare, and will massage you if you're sore.

the familiar feeling of vines wrapping around your wrists makes you shudder, nuzzling deeper into the crook of her neck. Pamela's flowery scent overwhelms your senses as her cock nudges against your prostate, yet she refuses to move. your cock, erect and needy, slaps against your tummy as you squirm.

"i need you to look at me, darling," she coo's, slender hands finding purchase on your hips. "mhm," you murmur, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. "oh? do you want me to fuck you or not?" you realize your mistake, and quickly correct yourself.

"yes, ma'am. m'sorry f'not addressing you," you murmur, and Pamela smirks. "oh, good boy. so polite~" she murmurs, rocking her hips up against yours, making you whine. "good boys deserve rewards, don't you think?"

Wonder Woman/Diana Prince:

listen, i feel like Diana is more experienced than she lets on. theres no way she's never pegged anyone before- this is Wonder Woman we're talking about.

Diana cares mostly about your comfort and pleasure, she's definitely a pleasure dom and wants to make sure you're satisfied. if you're into it, she's down to try it.

her strap is long, i'd say about 9 or maybe even more inches with a prominent tip and a few ridges. i don't think its too thick, but there's definitely enough girth where theres a bit of a stretch, especially at the base. i also think its a plain matte black, she isn't one for extravagant colors and such

very gentle, and cares a lot about prep. definitely fingers you beforehand to stretch you out, and makes sure to use a comfortable amount of lube. i also think she's the type to have you suck her off, even though she doesn't feel anything its SO attractive to see you on your knees and slobbering all over her strap. def fucks your face a little, claiming she needs to make sure her strap is all slick for entry- but really she just loves feeding into your oral fixation

Diana prefers simple missionary position when pegging you, there's something very intimate about watching your expressions and holding intense eye contact. she isn't opposed to the mating press either, and she loves how the angle allows her to fuck you deeper. she often isn't aware of her own strength and, much to your delight, tends to bully her cock deeper inside you by force of sheer will. you are undeniably going to be sore once she's done

wraps her arm beneath you to pull you up against her chest, supporting bot of your weights with just one arm so you can suck on her tits. definitely shoved her boobs into your face, and whether or not that's intentional or not it up to you

speaking of, Diana is literally soooo strong its uncanny. while she prefers the intimacy of the bed, she can definitely peg you up against the wall and hold you up without breaking a sweat. she loves how each thrust causes your hips to slam against the wall, and will force you to wrap your legs around her waist so she can reach even deeper inside you

she's very adamant about praising you, and making sure you know just how much she loves you. Diana definitely has pegged you in front of a floor to ceiling mirror, forcing you to watch her simultaneously peg you and jack you off while praising you the entire time.

"you are taking me so well, beloved, you're so strong and gorgeous... absolutely divine.."

maybe im crazy but. Diana with a breeding kink. HEAR ME OUTTTT. she knows its biologically impossible for her to impregnate you or even cum inside you, but that doesn't stop her from buying one of those straps that allows her to "cum" to satisfy those urges. and satisfy it does. the next thing you know she's fuckinv you absolutely silly, praising you for taking her so well while turning you into her own personal cumdump. its not so bad when she's cooing to you how gorgeous you look like this, and how much she wants to fill you up...

out of the three, Diana is by far the best at aftercare. she'll get you food and water before wiping you down and running you a bath, and then switching the sheets and blankets while you get in the tub before joining you. she gives wonderful massages, and praises you so much you nearly cry.

"your taking me so well, darling," Diana murmurs, pressing a kiss to your brow. you whine, your cock slapping against your tummy as she gazes down st you intently. her thrusts begin to pick up speed and your back arches, desperate to feel her even deeper. Diana slides one hand beneath your thigh, hooking it over her shoulder before repeating the motion with your other leg, until she has you folded in half and is practically splitting you in half on her strap.

the new position allows her to practically rearrange your guts as she drills into you, your gummy walls clamping down around her cock as she whispers sweet nothings into your ear. "you're such a good boy, so pretty f'me," she sighs against your skin. she very rarely slurs her words, but she's caught up in watching you unwind with each thrust. the pure ecstasy on your face is reflected in your wanton moans, and she continues to indulge you. you feel your release approaching as your cock twitches, desperate for attention.

Diana notices immediately, wrapping a hand around your base and pumping your length. "go on, darling, let go for me~" she coos, and you do, spilling onto yourself and making a mess. Diana gently fucks you through your orgasm, watching intently as you come down from your high. "you did so well dearest, i'm so proud.."

ok why did i cook with this hello⁉️ i genuinely love this so much like aaaa i need all of them in my bed asap

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Princess treatment only - MultiMuse x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not many, some mentions of killing, but nothing graphic. Kind of fluffy

Type: HC’s

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: Some HC’s as to how the muses would give the reader the princess treatment.

Notes: I don’t know where I was going with this, but this is mainly fluff, maybe sometime I’ll spice it up. I just had to get my writing juice brewing. Not proofread at all just go.

Jason Voorhees: Honestly, would treat you like a princess regardless. Will pick flowers for you when he’s outside. Always lets you borrow his flannels. Always walks in front of you to make sure there’s no danger, but looks back constantly to make sure there’s no danger behind you?? lmao. You won’t ever have to lift a finger when you’re with him. Literally at your beck and call. Will try his best not to kill in front of you, but sometimes it just ?? happens lol. Tries to be soft when touching you because you’re literally the most perfect thing that has ever crossed his path.

Michael Myers: Is your literal bodyguard. Will follow you anywhere and everywhere, you might as well call him your shadow. Lets you hug him and climb onto his lap whenever. Won’t hug you back yet, working on it. Nobody comes near you, no exceptions. Sorry. Stares at you most of the time. Can’t say it, but you’re literally flawless to him. Will use his body as a shield for you. Would kill anything for you. Eventually learns to put his palm against your cheek and that’s his second greatest accomplishment, the first being bagging you, literally and figuratively.

Tiffany Valentine: You won’t ever have to worry about a thing when you’re with her. Always gets her hands dirty for you. Lots of cheek and neck kisses. Praises your looks all the time. She will always brag about you whether it’s what you do, how you look, anything and everything. She would always make sure you have the latest clothes. She’d make sure you always had your staple make up pieces available. When it comes to killing, she’d get creative, that way you guys will never have literal blood on your hands, especially you, never you.

Billy Loomis: Lots of nicknames. Kinda only has a soft spot for you. Can never ever tell you no and stick to it. Won’t hesitate to kill anyone who makes fun of him for this. Drives you everywhere. Ties your shoes. Always makes time for you. Will help you pick out your outfits and tell you which one he likes and which one he doesn’t. Will wear the bracelets you make him. Anything in his closet is yours, help yourself. Always touching you, holding your hand, holding your waist, you’ve infatuated him enough to have him carelessly cover you in soft kisses, laying his head on your shoulder. Kinda creative with dates tbh.

Stu Macher: You will forever be his princess. Will carry you across puddles. Lots of cheek and forehead kisses. Would learn how to paint your nails for you during class. Always makes sure you have a good grade on your exam, whether he has to swap out the papers after class or make sure you get the right answers, you can absolutely count on him. You don’t have to use your brain around him, no worries. Thinks you look adorable in his sweaters, especially oversized. Loves when you sit on his lap. Prioritizes you over anything and everything. Even if you don’t like horror movies, Stu would absolutely find something else for you to watch.

Patrick Bateman: Honestly, when he falls in love with you, it’s princess treatment only. Will give you a skin care routine and help you follow through with it. Kind of makes you feel dumb, but not like a stupid dumb, more like a ‘oh dear sweet baby you are a little dumb but pretty, but dumb, let me help you’ Same thing if you fall asleep with your makeup on, Patricks on the way with the micellar makeup remover. Will speak up for you if you don’t like a service, he won’t be mean about it unless he has to. Always makes sure you’re hydrated (also part of your skin care routine). You will be a housewife/girlfriend. Feel free to splurge, you are his trophy princess after all. Will take you anywhere you want. Will make things up for you if he has to be at work late.

Leatherface: I don’t ever see a scenario where Bubba does not treat his s/o like a princess. It’s like part of the deal. Either way, expect wild flowers all the time. It’s his favorite thing to do for you. He even makes you a vase and makes sure your flowers are always fresh. Will literally die and kill for you without any hesitation. At his knees for you. Bubba will crawl to you across pins and needles if you asked him to. He’s always making sure you’re comfortable and safe, never hungry or in your mind for too long. Melts at your touch. Would learn how to dance just to dance to your favorite songs. Always gets awestruck with you.

Harley Quinn: Will absolutely take you anywhere you want, no matter how random it is. Always dazed when looking at you. Keeps pictures of you all dressed up in her bag or car or wherever she goes. Selina gave her a heart shaped locket once and yeah, you guessed it, the cutest picture of you is in there. Doesn’t hesitate to shoot any man for you. Leaves your face covered in red kisses. She would do anything to make you laugh. Anything you want, it’s yours! Just point at it.

Poison Ivy: Pamela will always spoil you, regardless of how you act. You’ve heard of people growing gardens for their s/o, she would grow forests for you. She’s the most gentle with you, gentle caresses and soft kisses. Paints your nails, brushes your hair while adding flowers into the locks. Always admires dressing you up and putting make up on you. Almost never wants you to leave. Slow dances with you. She’d do anything to keep you out of danger. You think Michael is a good bodyguard? Pamela is the bodyguard.

Bruce Wayne: hhnnnngh. Ok. No but you are the Princess Wayne. Spoiling you rotten goes without saying. Anything your little heart desires is yours. Helps you get dressed. His favorite is helping you with your stockings. Gentle kisses everywhere. Brushes your hair. Lifting you up constantly when there’s a crack in the pavement. Always the driver. Your safety is always first, always. No because whatever you want means whatever you want, which is why there are hello kitty plushies scattered across the Wayne manor. You’ve somehow managed to get your own cozy theater in there too. Princess treatment also means Bruce having to lay back just a teeny bit on Batman just to guard you too while you sleep.

Jason Todd: nmmnnmf YES. I don’t see him treating his s/o any other way. Lots of pet names. Loooves to help you get dressed. Sits you on the counter as he cooks. Never lets you out of his sight. Anything you want it’s yours. Always buying you cute socks and letting you wear his clothes. Forehead kisses. Oh man it’s so disgusting how much Jason loves his princess. Always taking pictures of you, no matter the angle. Would 1000000% tie bows into your hair if you asked.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly if he’s in love with you, princess treatment is granted. Always giving you his jackets, especially when you wear skirts or dresses out. Lifting you over mud and puddles. Subtle kisses on the head while you’re out. Body guard mode activated. He kinda becomes your shadow, appearing out of nowhere and greeting you with a kiss on the forehead. Ties your shoes without asking. Wiping any tears or smeared makeup off your face. Winks at you all the timeee.

Steve Harrington: Kind of similar to Stu, he always makes sure you pass your class. Poor princess doesn’t use her brain in school, too busy trying to stay awake. Always gives you his jacket, even if you don’t want to wear it, he’ll wrap it around you. Finds any excuse to carry you or pick you up. So affectionate. Kisses on the cheek, lips, forehead. Sometimes he will miss and kiss your eye but ugh it’s so fucking cute. Only has eyes for you. Tying your shoes, putting your socks on, literally just dressing you in general is a must. Literally will take you wherever you want, whenever. Drops everything when you call. Such a sucker with the nicknames for you.

Steve Rogers: Ugh another one. Think of him as a body guard who you get to kiss and sit on his lap. Always drops everything to make sure you’re okay. Cannot take his eyes off of you. So smooth with the reassurance. Kisses on the forehead constantly. Always tucks you in. Would help you bathe if you asked. Pulls you onto his lap every time you both sit down. Whatever you want, you’ll get. If he can’t do it, he’ll find a way. Cups your face in his hands when you cry, kisses your tears away. Ugh he’s your literal teddy bear, if you don’t like to be smothered? Pick another muse.

Bucky Barnes: Similar to Steve, he’s your shadow, but he’s a little more … upfront with it. He’s constantly wrapping an arm around you, eyeing anyone who’s eyeing you. He’s so gentle if you’re sensitive. Kissing your cheek is his favorite. Always lingering his fingertips around your crevices. Makes sure you’re never hungry. Always up before you are. Lets you sleep in. If you fight, he will never raise his voice at you. Ready to carry you if you’re too tired to keep walking around. Slow dances with you just because. He’s always worried for you, making sure you’re okay, you’re not sick or hungry. Pet names with him are a must.

Loki Laufeyson: Okkkk and in what situation did you ever think loki was not going to give you the princess treatment??? You are literal Princess Laufeyson. Though he, and Sebastian maybe, are the only ones who can probably, maybe, say no to you, if you pout enough maybe he’ll come to a compromise with you. He never wants to upset you though. Would literally wipe out a small world for you. Or a few. Ok even betray anyone for you. Always cleaning your smeared makeup, fixing your hair, wiping you because you spilled your drink. He’s so devoted to you, im going to throw up. He devours you with his eyes from a distance, you’re never leaving his sight.

Cloud Strife: Ugh ok. Literal bodyguard, as he’s hired to be at times. At your beck and call, though he’d never admit it. Such a sucker and can never say no to you. Though it may take time, he can start calling you ‘baby’ ‘sweet girl’ ‘love’ he’s so infatuated with you and doesn’t know how to handle it. Your safety is his priority. Always listens to you ramble on and on. Brings you flowers for no reason other than he was thinking of you. He’s such a sucker for you. Follows you everywhere.

Sebastian Michaelis: He’s probably the most tame out of everyone but that doesn’t mean he’s not a sucker. There are rules he’s willing to bend for you, literally willing to kill anyone that has the slightest interest in hurting you. Always makes sure you’re fed and if you want a sweet treat, he’s on it. Listens to you talk, even if it’s silly. Dances with you almost every night. He’s so graceful with it. Dressing you and feeding you is his favorite but he might throw in a few teases “poor sweet baby, you haven’t woken up yet to tell your left foot from your right” as you rub your eyes with the wrong shoes on. Of course he’s willing to help, even if he has the idea that you do this on purpose, he's more than happy to oblige.

Spencer Reid: Though his job wouldn’t encourage it, he still drops almost everything to answer you. Always finds a way to share time with his job and his attention to you. Reads to you all the time, whether in person or over the phone. He’s always making comparisons of you being the princess in most fictional stories that you both come across. He’s so gentle with you. Caresses your face all the time. You lay your head on his lap or sit on his lap as he reads away. Always making sure to keep up with your well-being before his own. Would 10000% pick up a habit of writing you little notes or picking flowers for you or taking Polaroids or something to remind you of your everlasting presence in his mind.

[acid-ixx]

brutus: both arms cradle you now (villain au concept)

ft. yandere! harley quinn (brief mentions of the poison ivy and catwoman) x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

"so, you're saying you hate the batman, for personal reasons, cupcake?"

you've never expected to have a therapy session with one of your mentors who took you in.

harley quinn, the girl who took you into her abode right after she found you bloodied and laying in a crimson bath of your own one faithful night; death your only comfort.

she, alongside her other company, are well-known people within gotham's criminal gallery. she's known to be obsessed with her ex back then, chasing after his toxic love despite hers being consistently thrown away, she's been seen fighting, or even sometimes helping your father when he's wearing the cowl just to find the joker, she dons clown makeup and displays athletic talent for combat—

she's not the type you'd expect to be well-versed with a person's mental health, with her playful attitude and bouncy steps, but with the way she notices your uncomfortable body language whenever you stumble upon the bat, or how you simmer in silent rage watching him care for his vigilante partners during times they get injured; you'd have to admit she's more than qualified to ask you sensitive questions nobody ought to ask a violent criminal like you.

you don't know it, but you share far more similarities with the girl than you thought; chasing after love never once reciprocated, she has every right to know what makes you so triggered seeing the vigilante every damn time he's within the vicinity.

she has every right because she's the one who saved you when you thought your life would be all over.

when you believed that that day would be the time your soul would leave your body, you'd suddenly awoke to her gentle coos and her retelling her company on how she stumbled upon you. and another woman's palms are on your heated forehead, an unnatural shade of green, yet she helps swipes away your hair for your head as she listens intently to harley's story; she gazes at you just as softly as the other. she's seated right beside a familiar face, too, with cropped, jet-black hair and cat-eyes. it was her expensive duvet that you lay on.

it was there that they coddled you collectively.

they've been your saviors then, and your mentors ever since. it's what you've never asked for, to be cared for by criminals who fought on the opposite side from your fathers, but you've been craving affection your entire life that you'd never once complain about.

now, in the same apartment, her question lingers in the back of your head, you feel goosebumps rise on the topmost layer of your skin, and your heartbeats hasten against the cage of your chest.

despite that, she merely looks over at you, her eyes held a calculating gaze. it's not exactly nerve-wracking like batman's whenever you had your occasional encounters with him, but you can tell she's psychoanalyzing every aspect of your being.

like a therapist for most, but to you, she does so because you know she cares.

gone was the ditzy smile she likes to wear on her playful lips, or the active, bouncy lilt she has whenever she sits upon the swivel chair to talk to you. she stares at you, with piercing blue eyes and furrowed brows, nitpicking every reaction you conjure.

it seems like now's the time she wants to open up with such a sensitive topics.

especially right after the incident where you cried after watching batman speak to the youngest robin, with the sweetest, most poisonous tone you've ever heard from the man. it makes you want to vomit watching it, makes you wish to shrivel outside-in your costume and burn until you're mere embers.

you ask yourself, 'do i hate him?'

truth is...

god, you wish you do. but you're different now.

you have new people to care for you, now and you'd rather throw away that heart wrenching life you had back in the past. batman is nobody to you now, you wish you could lead yourself to believe that he was just your usual opponent, nothing more, nothing less.

yet you merely shift on your cushioned seat, ignoring the blaring telltale signs in your head to stay silent, and reply to her albeit the unsureness in your tone. your words taste bitter, sour, salty, and no way sweet. every unpleasant flavor swirls in your tongue in a cacophony of emotions; and you wish to cry the longer you speak, tongue-tied and wishing to will away the ache in your chest.

"i don't hate him, harley, at least not anymore... it's different, i don't know what to feel about him. maybe it's rage, maybe i want to exact petty revenge on him because of my past with him. don't know. it's all complicated..."

"if it's not hatred, then it's something else, no? you feel something deep within for him, don'tcha, sweetheart? you can't lie to me, you're hurt, and scarred, because of him and his other vigilante partners, i can tell."

she replies, quicker than you do, with empathy and comfort laced in every syllable of her words, and you're taken aback at the kindness and understanding. your eyes flutter away from her worried ones, and you look down to your clenched palms and feel the callouses from all the harsh training you've conditioned yourself to endure, dismissing the way she stands from her chair to walk over to you.

hurt... that's true. you're hurt, and all the emotional scars that lay within you are still open, bleeding, and it aches deeply. every time you build new memories with these people, the pain of the past overpowers whatever improvement you make in life; as if it's haunting and taunting you.

when she kneels down to the level of your lap, just right beneath your vision so you could see her beyond the layers of hair that cover your watery eyes, you see her soft gaze and find her dainty fingers holding your palms, ones you didn't notice dig nails deep into skin until the rivulets of blood escape.

when she squeezes your hands, you follow along the patterns of inhaling and exhaling through her squeezing, a silent session with her to help you calm down from your foreboding emotions; your hastened breaths and brimming tears. you've been so used to ignoring all your emotions that you forget what panic attacks felt like in so long, not until you discover that you've been having small bouts of it every day; not until you realize how it's always your mentors comforting you through every one of your silent sufferings instead of ridiculing you for it.

"calm down, cupcake... i just wanted to know why, so i, alongside the girls, could help you through your emotions. what type of mentors are we if we can't help you, no? you've been so tense lately, we couldn't even see your cute, little smile these days. so don't forget you're still allowed to cry, sweetie... let all your emotions out, 'kay?"

she speaks, with a gentle timbre in her voice, and you allow her to embrace your form, one you didn't realize was shivering until now. yet you still bury your head further into her body without shame and allow yourself respite for once; allow yourself autonomy to be controlled by repressed pain and sorrow you've tried to bury deep into the marrows of your bones and the cages of your heart.

and now you realize why, why you're all crying all the same like last time, and you simply cry for longer at the realization.

because what contrasts with love, was indifference, and never hatred. you once loved batman, bruce, with all your heart because you're his kid, and your momma taught you to love without any expectations. but he sees you with indifference, with nothingness. no care, no emotions or opinions about you, unlike harley's who holds you in her arms and comforts you throughout your lengthened crying.

he doesn't even look at you. the thought bothers you more than ever.

"it's— you're right," you whisper through your hiccups, burying your head further on her stomach as her right hand plays with the strands of your hair, scratching your scalp in a comfortable pattern. she hums as a reply, and allows you to continue.

"i'm hurt, harley... it's so painful just thinking... thinking about how much i'm in pain because of him... but he's, he's—"

"shh, you don't have to force yourself to open up anymore, sweetheart."

when she releases her hold on you, you let out an embarrassingly loud cry, hands swiftly trying to pull her back to embrace you; too desperate to let go, too paranoid that this is all a dream, you wish to sink into her warmth forever.

but she holds you back, just as quickly with her warm palms at your wet cheeks, and looks at you. like you're her savior, her peace, and her everything.

her next sentences satiate the foreboding hunger in your heart, one too starved, one that craved and wished to take what it never have.

she feeds you with love and affection too sweet that it rids the bitter taste in the back of your throat and the bile that slowly rises every time you reminisce.

"i get'cha, sweetie. you wanted something from him you can never have, and when he didn't give you that, it destroyed you entirely you felt like you can never pick yourself right back. been there, done that—"

"—but look at where we're both at now! living the best of our lives, doing fun, risky heists and making ourselves happy with what we think is good for us, no? you get where i'm getting at, right?"

you don't. you feel like melting into her hands and never leaving. she gives and you take, take, and take everything she offers you.

and she knows you don't understand, so she continues rambling knowing you'd grasp into every word she says, not once breaking eye contact with you. she stares fondly, you gaze back reluctantly, unaccustomed to the affection your mentors shower you with. but you don't pull back, she becomes sad and sulky when you do.

you want her to be happy.

"sweetheart, i'm telling you the past is past! get him away from your mind and throw all the thoughts about him away! if you were nothing to him, then he should be nothing to you, easy as pie."

"you deserve better people in your life, like me, and pam, and selina. i can tell you're rough around the edges but that doesn't mean you should strip yourself away from any privilege to be cared for and loved for by people who love you as much as you love them. he's nothing to you now, alright? it's painful, but you can move on from him. i trust you can— you know why?"

harley questions you, with all the confidence in her tone, taking your head to lay it on her body again, positioning it so you could hear the buzz heartbeat, you bury yourself deeper into her warm body and nuzzle into fabric. your heart hastens, but it wasn't panic, it wasn't even fear or hurt, but a drive and motivation that burns deep inside of you; that this is what you always wanted, and needed to protect, and what she generously provided.

all her words echo through your head like it's the truth, your holy grail.

"you have us now, sweetheart. to love, to guide, and to protect you. we're everything you need now."

and you believe her like she's god.

just this once, you do. you're allowed to hope, to dream, and to finally feel special. to be embraced like the fantasies you had in the past, to be held and comforted through every gut wrenching experience, just as she does, now.

for once, you allow yourself to be loved, even if it means it's by the same hands that stain itself with blood, all shed in the glory of your name.

a/n: happy halloween! i was laying in bed and suddenly had thoughts about this. i don't like this drabble at all ngl erm 😭 this post is related to events prior to the out for blood chapter (idk if i should make it canon to the plot or not) and what i said in this fanart post. despite this not being my favorite piece of work, i like writing about other charactersn too though, especially when they're so soft to the mc. so yeah! if you guys like more of this, please do comment since idk what to feel about this.

[invincibledc]

||DC X SONIC!READER HEADCANNONS||

Summary: HEY?! A wild blue hedgehog that’s as fast as flash?! WHAT THE—

Sonic!reader who accidentally travels into a comic universe, dc as a choice and accidentally standing in the justice league HQ. “Uhhh.. meow?” The hedgehog says with a shrug. Immediately the hedgehog is running as quick as the flash? Barry or Wally, whatever you think is the flash at the moment is trying to catch the damn hedgehog. But the hedgehog only thinks of this as a game! Smiling before feeling his legs get caught in a glowing yellow rope.

“State your business and name!” The lady with the lasso says holding the animal up. Sonic!reader spits the truth out by how he has accidentally traveled into this universe. The team didn’t want to believe it, but you were still in the lasso of truth. So you were telling the truth. The hedgehog is already friends with flash, who wants to see how fast the hedgehog can do. And seeing how they both can do speed off and stop time while staying slow, yeah they both are downing food together.

Hal who literally makes fun of the quick hedgehog, that was before Sonic!reader took the ring off his finger so quick, flash laughed with the others. Batman only smiled a little before it quickly gone away.

Superman is gushing over how small the hedgehog is. He can’t help but not take Sonic!reader seriously. Really he can’t take the male hedgehog seriously because of how small and how funny and how they are determined to help people. It’s adorable to the man of steel!

Wonder Woman who adore the small hedgehog as well, after learning the adventures Sonic!reader has done and fought during. Wonder Woman smiles at the hedgehog, Sonic!reader then tells about how they have a female friend that wields a hammer. Immediately Wonder Woman is sat down when Sonic!reader describes the hammer and how big it is. Now Wonder Woman needs to know lore.

Gotham villains hate to see Sonic!reader coming when literally next minute they are in jail or in the asylum. Literally poison ivy and Harley were ready for their plan to succeed. But when they took a step forward, they were already in the asylum with a hedgehog swinging cell keys playfully in a guard uniform. “Already ahead of ya! Bye bye!” Then the blue hedgehog is gone.

The hedgehog being wrapped in a blanket like a baby because he got a bit tried when running. Clark is trying not to cry while holding the hedgehog. “Clark…give me the hedgehog.—" Bruce tries to grab the hedgehog. But the super immediately flies away.

Sonic!reader Who does his idle animation whenever speeding away from danger, mocking them as he wags his finger. “Gotta try harder than that!”

Catwoman having her whip around the blue hedgehog, having him hogtied. Sonic!reader is grumbling like the gremlin they are while catwoman, aka Selina is contacting Bruce. “Bruce..I got a hedgehog that says he’s with you..” “sigh..here I come.”

Barry and Wally just watching Sonic!reader speed around, they laugh at how adorable and excited the house. They Wally speeds over to try and stop sonic!reader who got stuff in a box.

“That’s so crash!” Bart says smiling at Sonic!reader who burned into a empty street with their speed. The fire shows a detailed chili dog. “I don’t know what that means, but yeah!” Reader says smiling and high giving Bart.

Impulse who likes Sonic!reader like a brother. Always asking for races and who can shove most food, but honestly it makes impulse and the flash family kinda disappointed to see that you aren’t really like them as you throw up. You eat for energy, they have to eat or else they die. Impulse still likes you treat you like you are part of the flash family, just like the flash does as well.

“You’re too slow!” Sonic!reader says when speeding pass impulse, aka Bart. Bart smiles at this and zooms to catch up which his new brother figure.

Batfamily vs Flashfamily wanting custody over the small hedgehog.

Bruce just training and seeing how fast Sonic!reader is and his potentials before treating Sonic!reader like son he just picked up. (He basically did) Bruce seeing how childish and smart mouth he can be reminded him of one of his sons, so he just basically “adopted” this small hedgehog.

Dick is just not amused at another speedster, what he is amused that this so called “speedster” is named Sonic and is fast like the flash. Reader just shows up in the manor holding up a chili dog with a goofy smile. “Want one? It’s still hot.” Dick couldn’t help but smile at the adorable hedgehog male and took the chili dog. Only he took the chili dog because he wanted to seem nice

Damian who couldn’t care what you are and who you are. Thought he is amused by how quick you are to have the audacity to talk back to him. He found out your weakness and smirks every-time the face of the hedgehog’s face drops at the word “pool.

Tim basically being DR. Eggman for Sonic!reader but more chill and totally not a villian. Tim just wants to know how a hedgehog is talking and is fast like the flash. Maybe he would pull on your quills to get a sample

Jason just reading the hedgehog books, maybe even bringing a comic book to Sonic!reader’s liking as the hedgehog has an oversized shirt with a goofy ahh smile. “Sup Jay!” Sonic!reader says with a smile. Jason just stays quiet and prays that he doesn’t show cute aggression at this hedgehog ass motherfucker.

Sonic!reader who just relaxes in the Wayne manor, talking to Alfred who just freshly made him some chili dogs. Yeah reader can get use to this.

[strawberrybyers]

being a slut and mentally ill means i’d do really well as a patient in arkham asylum

[urdreamydoodles]

Batman Villains x Fem!Reader

You are a criminal hiding under the role of a psychiatrist in Arkham

You introduces yourself as a new psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, but beneath your professional facade, you're also a criminal with your own agenda. During your sessions with Gotham’s notorious villains, you forms twisted, romantic relationships with them.

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, The Riddler, Two-Face & The Penguin

Joker

- You introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist in Arkham, armed with degrees and a mask of professionalism, hiding your true nature beneath the surface. Your sessions with the Joker began with cautious probing, dancing around his mind like any other doctor would. But the moment his cold, dark eyes met yours, you both knew it was a game—one neither of you intended to lose.

- His smile, wide and unhinged, widened further each session as he slowly unraveled your façade. You found yourself intrigued by him in ways you weren’t supposed to be. The chaos he offered was intoxicating, his unpredictable mind a puzzle you craved to solve. And while you knew the risks, you couldn’t help but draw closer to his madness. In your second session, his laughter became personal, no longer mocking Arkham's walls but meant for you.

- Joker had a way of pulling you in, teasing out the criminal lurking beneath your skin. You weren’t just a doctor—you were a kindred spirit, someone who understood his twisted view of the world. He could see it in the glint of your eyes when you spoke to him about Gotham’s hypocrisy, about the system’s flaws. And one day, as you were closing your notebook, his voice cut through the air: "You’re not one of them, doc. You’re like me."

- Your heart raced, but you played it cool, chuckling softly as if you weren’t shaken to the core. From then on, your sessions turned into something more intimate. Conversations turned into whispered secrets, truths about your past crimes, the people you manipulated to rise in the criminal underworld. Joker reveled in it, seeing the darkness he knew you were hiding. He began to speak about you in ways that made your pulse quicken, about how you could rule Gotham together, throw the city into disarray with your combined intellect and chaos.

- The tipping point came when, during a particularly charged session, he reached across the table, his gloved fingers brushing yours. There was a promise in that touch, something raw and dangerous. The lines between doctor and patient blurred completely when he pressed his lips against yours, leaving a smear of red lipstick on your mouth. You didn’t pull away—you couldn’t. Instead, you let him pull you into his world of madness, where logic twisted into a wicked kind of love.

- After that day, it wasn’t just therapy anymore. You became his accomplice, helping him from the inside, pulling strings behind Arkham’s walls. And when he finally escaped, you were right there beside him, both of you laughing at the chaos you would unleash. You weren’t just the Joker’s psychiatrist—you were his queen of madness, his partner in crime, and Gotham was yours to play with.

Harley Quinn

- When you walked into Arkham as the new psychiatrist, you were immediately drawn to her. Harley Quinn, the infamous former doctor turned criminal, sat across from you, her playful smirk never faltering. But you knew better than to take her lightly. Behind her giggles and flirtations was a woman who had once been where you were, a professional undone by obsession. Little did Harley know, you had the same spark of madness within you, hidden under the guise of professionalism.

- Your sessions with Harley were like a dance, a back-and-forth of wit and insight. She would tease you about your job, mock the way you spoke in clinical terms, but you both knew she was testing you. You always answered with a smirk of your own, showing her that you weren’t as buttoned-up as you seemed. You weren’t just here to analyze her—you were here to connect, to peel back the layers of her mind because you saw yourself in her.

- One day, during a session, she leaned in close, her eyes flickering with interest. "You know, doc, you remind me of someone." Her voice was low, almost conspiratorial, and you knew she meant herself. You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. "I’ve heard that before." She narrowed her eyes, suddenly serious. "You ain’t like the others." And she was right. You weren’t.

- You started to let bits of your real self slip through, sharing small pieces of your criminal side with her. You knew she would understand, maybe even admire it. Harley watched you carefully as you spoke about the schemes you had been part of, the power you wielded under the radar. She loved it. And before long, your sessions were less about her and more about the connection between the two of you.

- The day she kissed you was a blur of impulsive passion. After a particularly heated exchange, Harley had grabbed your tie, yanking you toward her, your lips crashing together. There was no hesitation on your part, only a thrilling sense of liberation. You were no longer pretending to be the psychiatrist, and Harley wasn’t just your patient. You were equals, two criminals playing a dangerous game of love and power.

- From that moment on, you were inseparable. You used your position to smuggle things in for her, weapons and plans for her next big heist. Harley, in return, made you feel alive in a way no one else ever could. She saw your darkness and embraced it, encouraging you to step deeper into the life you had been hiding. You became her partner in crime, but unlike the Joker, you weren’t controlling her. You were both free in each other’s chaos, equals in madness.

- The day you helped her escape Arkham was the beginning of something wild. Together, you wreaked havoc on Gotham, her unpredictable energy and your calculated cunning making you an unstoppable duo. You were Harley’s new obsession, but it wasn’t one-sided. She was yours too. You weren’t just another doctor who fell for the wrong patient—you were a criminal mastermind who found the perfect match in Harley Quinn.

Poison Ivy

- You introduced yourself to Arkham as just another psychiatrist, another cog in the system. But from the moment you sat down across from her, the infamous Poison Ivy, you knew you were dealing with someone who could see through your façade. Her green eyes were sharp, watching you with a knowing look as you asked your initial questions. You were careful, though. You knew better than to underestimate a woman like her.

- Each session was a test, a game of wits between the two of you. Ivy wasn’t like the others—you couldn’t simply manipulate her or play into her weaknesses. She was strong, both mentally and physically, her connection to nature giving her a kind of power you admired. And she could sense something off about you, something that didn’t fit with the usual Arkham doctor. You were good at hiding it, but not good enough. "You’re not just a shrink, are you?" she asked one day, a sly smile playing at her lips.

- You leaned back, meeting her gaze evenly. "And you’re not just a criminal." It was an admission, a silent agreement that you were both more than you appeared. Ivy’s curiosity grew from that moment, and so did yours. She wasn’t just another patient to you—she was a woman who had taken control of her life, her body, and the world around her. You respected her, even admired her strength, something you had always craved for yourself.

- Slowly, your conversations turned into something more intimate. You shared pieces of your own life with her, your involvement in the criminal underworld, your ability to manipulate others without them ever realizing it. Ivy listened carefully, her expression neutral, but you could tell she was interested. She liked the idea of someone who wasn’t afraid to challenge the system from the inside, someone who understood the game she was playing.

- One day, she leaned in close, her fingers brushing against your wrist, sending a strange, almost electric pulse through your skin. "You’re beautiful," she whispered, her voice low and sultry. You felt your heart skip a beat, but you didn’t pull away. You were drawn to her, to the danger, to the idea of losing yourself in her world. It wasn’t long before your professional boundaries crumbled, and you found yourself kissing her, tasting the sweet poison of her lips. It was intoxicating, like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer confined to Arkham. You helped her in secret, bringing her the resources she needed, aiding her in her environmental crusades. Ivy saw the criminal in you and nurtured it, just like one of her plants. She didn’t want to control you—she wanted to empower you, and you let her. Together, you became a force to be reckoned with, a dangerous duo that Gotham wouldn’t soon forget. Poison Ivy had claimed you, body and soul, and you loved every minute of it.

Bane

- Your arrival in Arkham as the new psychiatrist was unremarkable to most, but when you were assigned to Bane, things took a darker turn. His reputation was terrifying, the man who broke the Bat, a living embodiment of strength and intelligence. But you weren’t afraid. You were drawn to him, to the power he represented, both physical and mental. You had always craved control, and Bane was the perfect subject—someone you could manipulate, or so you thought.

- Your sessions with Bane began like any other, with you trying to delve into his psyche, trying to understand the mind behind the monster. But he was different from the others. Bane wasn’t just brute strength—he was calculating, strategic, and he quickly saw through your act. He didn’t say it right away, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting for you to slip up.

- It didn’t take long for him to speak up. "You’re not here to fix me," he said one day, his voice deep and commanding. You froze, knowing you couldn’t hide from him anymore. "No," you admitted, a smirk tugging at your lips. "I’m not." You weren’t just a psychiatrist—you were a criminal, someone who had risen through Gotham’s underworld, and you wanted to understand the man who had brought the city to its knees.

- Bane respected honesty, and from that moment, your dynamic shifted. He didn’t see you as a doctor anymore—he saw you as an equal, someone with the same hunger for power that he had. You were fascinated by his mind, by the way he strategized and planned every move. He was a genius, far beyond what most people gave him credit for, and you couldn’t help but admire him.

- The tension between you grew with each session. Bane was controlled, disciplined, but you could see the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. It was subtle, but it was there. You were drawn to his strength, to the raw power he exuded, and you knew he felt the same. One day, after a particularly intense session, you found yourself standing too close to him, the air thick with unspoken desire. His hand, large and calloused, reached out to gently touch your cheek, his eyes dark with intent.

- "You are more than they realize," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a heated, dangerous kiss. There was no softness in it—only raw passion and the unspoken understanding that you were both forces of nature, bound by a mutual respect and hunger for power.

- From that day on, you were no longer his psychiatrist. You were his partner, his equal in every sense of the word. Bane trusted you in ways he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him plot his next move against Gotham. You were the brains behind his brawn, working together to bring the city to its knees once again. You loved him, not just for his strength but for his mind, for the way he saw the world and molded it to his will. Together, you were unstoppable, a force that no one could stand against. And you reveled in the chaos you would unleash.

Scarecrow

- When you first introduced yourself as the new psychiatrist at Arkham, you were already aware of Jonathan Crane's reputation. The master of fear, the Scarecrow, was infamous for his obsession with the mind's darkest corners. But what intrigued you wasn’t just his fixation on fear—it was the brilliance behind it, the cold, calculating intellect that twisted psychology into something deadly. You weren’t there to cure him, though. Beneath your polished exterior, you had your own darkness, your own secrets, and a hunger to learn from someone like him.

- From the first session, there was a tension in the air. Crane wasn’t like the other patients who tried to charm or manipulate you—he studied you, analyzing every word, every gesture. His voice was calm, his demeanor almost detached, but you could see the wheels turning in his mind. He knew you weren’t like the other doctors. "You’re curious," he remarked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But not about my recovery."

- You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "No, Dr. Crane. I’m curious about your work." That was the moment he saw you for what you were—a kindred spirit, someone who wasn’t afraid of fear but fascinated by it. Your sessions became less about psychology and more about power. Crane saw potential in you, and you in him. You started talking about fear on a deeper level, about how it controlled people, how it could be harnessed and used.

- As the weeks passed, you found yourself drawn to his mind, the way he saw fear not as a weakness but as a tool. You began to share your own experiences, the times you had manipulated fear in others to get what you wanted. Crane listened, his interest piqued, and for the first time, he opened up about his own experiments, the thrill he felt when watching his victims crumble under his toxin’s effects.

- One evening, after a particularly intense session, you found yourselves standing close, too close for a professional boundary. His hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt through you. His eyes, dark and penetrating, locked onto yours. "You don’t fear me, do you?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. You shook your head, smiling. "I admire you." That was all it took. In an instant, his lips were on yours, the kiss filled with an electric tension that had been building for weeks.

- From that moment on, your relationship was no longer patient and doctor. You became his confidante, his partner in exploring the darkest aspects of the human psyche. He showed you things no one else knew about—his latest fear toxin formulas, his plans for Arkham and Gotham. You helped him, using your position to cover his tracks, to gather resources, and to watch as he slowly gained more control over the asylum.

- But it wasn’t just about fear anymore. It was about power, control, and a twisted form of love that grew between the two of you. Jonathan Crane wasn’t just your patient—he was your equal, your partner in crime, and the two of you reveled in the chaos you could create together. The city would learn to fear you both, and you’d savor every moment of it.

The Riddler

- Arkham had seen many doctors come and go, but when you introduced yourself to Edward Nygma, better known as the Riddler, he immediately knew you were different. You weren’t just another psychiatrist trying to “fix” him. No, there was something in your eyes, something calculating. You enjoyed puzzles, mysteries, and games of wit—just like he did. You weren’t there to cure him. You were there to challenge him.

- Your first session was more of a mental sparring match than a therapy session. Nygma tested you with riddles, trying to throw you off balance, to make you stumble. But you never missed a beat. Every time he threw a challenge your way, you met it with ease, answering his riddles with a smirk. "Impressive," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But you’re hiding something, aren’t you, doctor?"

- You tilted your head, feigning innocence, but you both knew he was right. Edward Nygma thrived on solving puzzles, and you were a puzzle he wanted to crack. But what he didn’t realize was that you were just as much a player in this game as he was. As the sessions progressed, you began to drop hints, letting him see glimpses of the criminal mind beneath your professional exterior. It fascinated him, the idea that you weren’t just there to help, but that you had your own agenda.

- One day, during a particularly charged conversation about Gotham’s elite and their weaknesses, Nygma leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You’re like me, aren’t you? You see the world for what it is—a game. And we’re the ones smart enough to win." You didn’t deny it. Instead, you smiled, leaning closer. "Maybe I am."

- That was the turning point. From then on, your sessions were no longer about his rehabilitation—they were about planning. You shared your own insights into Gotham’s corruption, its flaws, its riddles. Nygma loved it. You became partners, planning your own schemes from inside Arkham’s walls. You used your position to feed him information, to help him plot his escape and his next big move.

- The chemistry between you grew with every session, the tension crackling between the two of you like static. It all came to a head one night when, after hours of trading riddles and plotting, Edward stood and crossed the room, pulling you close. "I always did enjoy a good mystery," he whispered before his lips met yours in a fierce, possessive kiss.

- After that, you were inseparable. You weren’t just partners in crime—you were lovers, bound by a shared intellect and a thirst for control. Nygma trusted you in a way he trusted no one else, and you used that trust to help him execute his plans, bending Gotham to your will. Together, you were unstoppable, a pair of masterminds who thrived on chaos and complexity. The city was your playground, and every riddle, every challenge, only brought you closer.

Two-Face

- When you walked into the room for your first session with Harvey Dent, you knew you weren’t meeting the famed district attorney Gotham once adored. No, you were staring at a man who had been broken by fate, his face a stark reminder of the chaos that ruled his life now. But you didn’t flinch. You introduced yourself calmly, sitting across from him like you would any other patient, knowing full well you had your own reasons for being here.

- Two-Face sized you up immediately, his scarred eye twitching slightly as he watched your every move. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice low and suspicious. You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "Maybe I’m just curious about how someone like you thinks," you replied coolly. He chuckled darkly, flipping his coin in the air. "No one’s ever *just curious* about me, doll."

- Your sessions were a constant tug-of-war. Harvey’s dual nature fascinated you—how he constantly struggled between his desire for justice and the dark side that had overtaken him. You, too, had a duality hidden beneath the surface. You played the part of the psychiatrist well, but beneath that, you were a criminal, drawn to chaos just like him. And as much as he tried to intimidate you, you didn’t back down, and he noticed.

- Harvey respected your strength. The more you pushed back, the more interested he became. He saw something in you, something different from the other doctors who had tried to “fix” him. One day, after a particularly heated session, he tossed the coin in the air, catching it in his palm before smirking. "You know, I’ve got a feeling you’re not so innocent yourself." You met his gaze evenly. "What if I’m not?" That was the moment you saw the shift in his eyes—the dual sides of Harvey Dent were no longer fighting each other, they were intrigued by you.

- It wasn’t long before your relationship took a darker, more intimate turn. One night, after hours of discussing Gotham’s corruption and his place in it, Harvey stood from his chair and crossed the room, pulling you close. The kiss was rough, almost desperate, as if he was trying to claim you as his, but you didn’t resist. You wanted it, wanted him. There was something thrilling about the danger, the unpredictability that came with Two-Face.

- From that moment on, you were his partner in more than just therapy. You helped him plan, working from within Arkham’s walls, aiding him in gathering resources for his next move against Gotham. You fed into both sides of him—the one that craved order and the one that loved chaos. Two-Face trusted you in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone since his fall, and together, you were unstoppable. His coin may have decided fate, but you held the real power in your hands, manipulating the outcome to suit your shared goals. You were drawn to the danger, and with Two-Face by your side, you reveled in the chaos.

The Penguin

- As you introduced yourself to Oswald Cobblepot in Arkham, you could feel his eyes assessing you from head to toe. The Penguin was a man who built his empire on manipulation, control, and knowing exactly who to trust—and who to use. But you weren’t just another psychiatrist walking into his cell. You had your own agenda, and the second you sat down, you knew Penguin would be a challenge worth taking on.

- Oswald wasn’t subtle. "So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dump like this?" he sneered, the cane in his hand tapping the ground softly. You smiled, unphased by his attempt to unnerve you. "Just trying to understand what makes you tick, Mr. Cobblepot." He chuckled, clearly amused. "Is that so? Or are you here for something a little more… profitable?" He had you pegged, and you didn’t deny it. Penguin wasn’t someone who responded to weakness. He respected ambition, and you had plenty of it.

- The sessions became a delicate dance. You learned quickly that Penguin wasn’t just a gangster—he was a mastermind, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room. He loved the game, the power plays, the manipulation. And you knew how to play the game just as well. Every conversation with him was layered with unspoken meaning, your words carefully chosen to show you weren’t just another Arkham shrink. Oswald began to respect you, intrigued by your sharp mind and your ability to keep up with him.

- It wasn’t long before the lines blurred between professional and personal. Penguin’s calculating gaze would linger on you a little too long, his smirks becoming something more suggestive. "You’ve got a real talent for this," he’d say during one of your sessions, his voice low and dripping with amusement. "Maybe you should be working for me instead of this place." You didn’t disagree. In fact, the idea thrilled you. Gotham’s underworld was where you truly belonged, and Penguin saw it.

- One evening, after a particularly intense conversation about Gotham’s crime families, Oswald stood, walking around his desk with that unmistakable limp. He stood close, closer than ever before, his hand gently brushing your arm. "You and me, we could run this town," he whispered, his eyes dark with ambition and something more. You felt the electricity between you, the pull of power and attraction, and when he leaned in, you didn’t pull away. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with the promise of what could come.

- After that, you were no longer just his psychiatrist. You became his confidante, his right hand, and eventually, his lover. Together, you plotted his rise back to the top, using your position in Arkham to gather information and pull strings. Penguin admired your cunning, your beauty, and your ambition. You weren’t just someone he used—you were someone he trusted, and in his world, that was more valuable than anything.

- You found yourself falling deeper into Gotham’s criminal underworld, by his side. Oswald respected your mind as much as your beauty, and you thrived in the power he gave you. The city became your playground, and together, you schemed to take it all. Penguin may have been a ruthless crime lord, but with you, he was something more—an equal. And together, no one could stand in your way.

[nxtaliaistyping]

Batrogues | p links

(gotta be logged into twitter for links to work)

nsfw 18+, part two here

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

The Scarecrow:

He's never gonna miss an opportunity to put you in your place.

Fucking him in his shitty car outside Arkham Asylum/Gotham University

If he can't fear gas you, this is the next best thing.

Fave way to fuck you, loves the slight fear in your eyes.

Something about seeing you in the sluttiest skirts really does it for him.

Black Mask:

who says he can't be nice to his favorite girl?

Your place with him.

He loves hair pulling

Makes you send him recordings of yourself like this for his entertainment.

To be his top doll, you have to earn it.

The Riddler:

When you can't solve his riddles </3 (he isn't completely heartless, be grateful you're getting something)

De-stressing him after a long day

Playing with your pussy when he wants to think

Choking you during sex is his guilty pleasure

For when you're a very very good girl

Two-face:

Either Harvey was gonna fuck you real gentle, or Harv was gonna have his way with you. The coin landed on the scarred side </3

Always wants to touch you, even when you're both out driving

Harvey hates to punish you, but it's a necessity.

White lingerie is always gonna be his weakness.

Early mornings are better with you.

Harley Quinn:

She loves mood lighting, makes your pussy look all the more inviting

Thinks you just look so much cuter with a leash!

You two are bumping pussies every chance you get.

Both of you take it in turns to use the strap <3

If there's one thing Harley is gonna do, it's use her tongue.

Poison Ivy:

She takes it slow with you at the start.

Sex toys are perhaps the only worthwhile thing mankind made.

Wants you to ride her, to take what you need.

She's a tits > ass girl <3

Be a good girl and eat her out.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨

[alisonwritesimagines]

Wayne Family Garden ~Batmom Imagine~

Summary: Your plan on growing a garden. However, you don’t have a green thumb. Luckily, you know someone who does.

Author’s Note: I'm obessed with the Wayne Family Adventures on WebToons. Like you don't know how obsessed I am with them.

BatFamily Masterlist

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, Poison Ivy and Harley know the Batfam's identies (its canon)

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

"What do you think Alfred?"

"I think having a lemon tree could really benefit the garden and our groceries," Alfred tells you.

"Maybe we can have an apple tree too?" You said.

"Sounds delightful. And Master Bruce agreed to your garden?"

"Yup. Said we can have it on the side in the backyard. And we can grow whatever we want," you smiled.

"We should start off small then," Alfred said.

"Right. So then a lemon tree, an apple tree, and carrots?" You asked.

"Sounds good to me," Alfred smiled.

You had been growing more bored around your home now that most of your kids were adults and had moved out of the mansion. So after seeing a good amount of gardening TikToks, you wanted to start your own little garden. But there was one slight problem, you didn't know how to garden.

So there was one person you could think of who could help you start off. You didn't want to bother Alfred more than what he has to deal with so you used your husband's technology to find a certain someone.

The apartment complex looked a little run down but yet again, you knew this was where they would be laying low. You knocked on the front door, only to see Harley Quinn opening it up.

"Mrs. Wayne? Whatcha doin here?" Harley asked you.

"Hiya, Harley. I'm looking for Ivy. Is she around?" You asked.

"Yeah. What's going on?" Harley asked.

"Harley. Who is it?" You heard Ivy ask.

"It's Y/n Wayne! Batman's wife!" Harley said excitedly.

"Hi, Ivy. I came here to ask for a favor," you tell her.

"Uh sure. What's up?" Ivy asked.

"I am currently planting a garden at my home but the problem is, I don't know how to garden. I was wondering if you can help me out," you asked her.

"Don't you have a butler who also knows how to garden?" Ivy asked.

"Yes but I don't want to bother him more than my family already has. And besides, I need more females around the house," you mentioned.

"What are you trying to grow?" Harley asked.

"I would like to start off with a lemon tree, an orange tree, and an apple tree. But I know those take a couple years to grow but I would like to begin growing carrots, tomatoes, and green beans as well," you tell her.

"Those are good to start off with," Ivy mentioned.

"Thanks. So will you come by my house with me and help me get started? I have the tools and everything to start off," you asked her.

"Yeah. My schedule is clear for today," Ivy shrugged.

"Thank you! Harley! You can come over too," you invited.

"Oh sweet!"

Whenever it was a light night, meaning that there was barely crime for once in Gotham, the whole family would get together for dinner. However, they were surprised to see two new comers joining you all in dinner.

"I expect you all to behave yourselves for the night. Ivy and Harley are my guests as they helped me with my garden today," you tell your family.

"Yes mom."

"And no hero or villain talk in the table. I would like a dinner where we can just eat like normal people for once," you say as you prepped the table.

During dinner, everyone ate peacefully but kept a close eye on Harley and Ivy. It was mainly you talking about the garden and your plans for it.

"What are you planning on growing in the garden ummi?" Damien asked you.

"I would like a lemon, orange, and an apple tree but I know those take a while to grow. But I'm also planning on growing some carrots, green beans, and tomatoes to start off," you say excitedly.

"Just make sure to follow the instructions I gave you," Ivy said.

"Of course. And I'll call you in case anything happens," you smiled at her.

The next few weeks, you were proud of your work. The trees were starting to form slowly but surely. You kept notes to check your progress as well as making sure everything was going smoothly. So it wasn't a surprise for the batfamily to see Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy come to their house every week to help check on your garden.

"They're growing good," Ivy tells you,

"Thank you!"

"If you want, I can help you speed up the process for the trees."

"I know I should wait but I do want to try baking an apple pie and make my own orange juice."

"As long as you keep maintaining it you should be fine."

"Mmm. Okay. Let's do it!"

Cassandra and Stephanie quickly rushed over to Harley's and Ivy's place with the bag from their mom. It had been a couple weeks since Ivy and Harley last visited you and your garden. Cassandra knocked on the door, waiting for one of them to answer.

"What do you kids want?" Ivy asked as she opened the door.

"wanted us to drop this off to you," Stephanie said as she handed her the bag. Ivy looked into it before smiling. A fresh apple pie along with a pitcher of orange juice and lemonade were placed in the bag.

"Tell her we said thank you."

"We will!"

"Let her know that if she wants to start something new, have her call me," Ivy tells the girls.

"We will!"

[cece693]

Painted Devotion

pairing: the joker x male reader tags: male reader is a hero, joker is infatuated with you, no joker used in mind, the thought is there

The moment the SWAT team hauls him away, you think this is finally over—until you hear that cackling laugh echo through the paddy wagon window.

A few days pass. You immerse yourself in your usual hero duties—cleaning up small-time heists, taking down petty thugs. But it doesn’t escape your notice that you almost miss the Joker’s particular brand of chaos. There was something in his eyes that day, a wild, obsessive affection that went beyond the typical villain-hero dynamic.

You’re patrolling a dingy back alley near the Bowery when it happens again. A security guard from the Gotham Museum of Contemporary Art is doubled over, reeling from a sudden gas attack. The faint green haze around him makes your stomach churn; you’d know that Joker toxin anywhere. Instantly, your heart pounds. He’s out. He’s free. Or worse—this is part of his elaborate scheme to bait you again.

You slip into the museum through a shattered stained-glass window. The corridors are dim, silent except for your footsteps. Then you see it: a large neon sign mounted on the marble statue of the museum’s founder. The sign reads: “You hardly come to see me. So I brought my exhibit to YOU!” in swirling, chaotic letters. Around the base of the statue are clown-faced mannequins, each posing with various “Joker merchandise”—fake bombs, painted roses, over-sized playing cards.

A voice croons from above: “Hero? Heeeero, come out, come out, wherever you are…”

The Joker drops down from a second-floor balcony, landing with a theatrical flourish. He’s practically bouncing on his toes, as though he’s been waiting for this moment all night.

“Oh, I knew you’d show,” he says, a desperate glee flickering across his painted face. “After all, you always do. But you sure are taking your sweet time.” He adjusts his lapels, letting out a comically offended huff.

You glance around, searching for hostages or bombs. But surprisingly, you see none. Just the Joker, grinning from ear to ear, his eyes crinkled in a mix of frustration and delight.

He points a gloved finger at you, wagging it like a scolding parent. “I heard you had a run-in with…oh, what’s-his-name…Candlefly? Firefly? Some lesser insect who tried to torch a warehouse? He barely even had to set a building ablaze, and poof, you came running! Meanwhile, your dear Joker?” He clutches his heart, feigning heartbreak. “I have to pull the entire Gotham Philharmonic into a fish tank, or blow up half the Arkham library just to get you to glance my way!”

Stepping closer, you notice he’s trembling, excitement layered with genuine distress. It’s disturbing how you can practically feel his longing crackling in the air.

“Haven’t you been getting my letters?” he whines. “I’ve poured out my heart on stationery that cost a fortune! And that last ‘little gift’… you didn’t even thank me.” He pouts, lip jutting out like a petulant child. “Don’t you know how to accept a token of affection, or do I need to teach you some manners?”

Your brows furrow, keeping your guard up. “This isn’t how you show affe—”

He cuts you off with a playful stomp, then does an overdramatic twirl. “Oh, don’t you lecture me on love, hero! I try so hard. You ignore me, but you still find time for these losers instead of your dear Joker!” He narrows his eyes, voice wavering between mania and heartbreak. “It’s humiliating, you know.”

Despite the dangerous situation, you feel a twinge of pity. His feelings—warped though they are—seem undeniably genuine.

You stand your ground, trying to quell the swirl of sympathy. “Joker, people are getting hurt because of these stunts. Whatever…feelings you have, it doesn’t justify—”

“Feelings?” His manic grin twists into a desperate smile. “Oh, I have more than feelings, dear. I’m infatuated. Smitten. I want to see that lovely expression of shock on your face whenever I pop into your life. Isn’t that romantic?” He sighs dreamily, then cocks his head. “Don’t you like being wanted?”

Your jaw tightens. You can’t let him get under your skin. Instead, you try to see if he’s rigged the museum with explosives; it’d be typical Joker. You subtly shift your gaze, looking for signs.

He notices immediately. “Looking for bombs, are we?” he snickers. “No bombs this time. No guns. Just me.” A faltering grin paints his face. “I wanted to talk. Really talk. Because if I have to blow up another building to get your attention, well…” He shrugs, glancing away with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “I will, but I’d prefer not to. I want you all to myself, without those distractions.”

He slinks forward until there’s scarcely a foot between you. His gloved hand stretches out, almost daring to brush your chest.

“Is it really so hard to drop by Arkham for a chat? Maybe we could schedule a…date.” He laughs, though there’s desperation woven into his tone. “But no, you’re too busy chasing every nobody in Gotham. I suppose I’m just…unremarkable to you.”

He pouts again—really hamming it up—his voice taking on a whiny edge. “You don’t love me. You only show up out of obligation. It’s not fair.” You swallow hard. The tension is suffocating, a bizarre blend of comedic theatrics and real heartbreak. You have no illusions about his capacity for violence, but that undercurrent of raw longing is shaking your resolve.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you finally manage. “People are scared, Joker. They’re terrified. And you’re not giving me a choice but to respond.”

He giggles, shoulders bouncing. “Precisely! That’s the point, my dashing do-gooder! If the only way to see that handsome face of yours is to threaten the entire city, then so be it. I’ll do whatever it takes, because I— I— oh, you’ll laugh at me if I say it.”

He claps a hand over his face, peeking at you through splayed fingers. The sight would be comical if it weren’t so chilling. You stand there, arms tense at your sides, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

A moment later, he sighs heavily, dropping his hand. “But I have to say it: I love you, you stubborn, noble idiot! There! Now it’s out, for heaven’s sake. Laugh, scream, do what you want.” He throws his arms up, voice cracking with frustration. “But don’t you dare run off to fight some C-lister while I’m locked away again. I won’t stand for it, do you hear me? I won’t stand for it!”

As if on cue, the sirens outside begin wailing, bright red and blue lights swirling through the museum windows. The GCPD. They’ve arrived, no doubt alerted to the disturbance. Joker glances at the lights, then back at you, his expression torn between amusement and disappointment.

He exhales a broken laugh, lifting his hands in a theatrical surrender. “I guess our rendezvous is over.” He twists around, letting the cops see him, raising his arms as they enter. But even as the officers draw near, weapons trained, his attention remains locked on you.

Your mind spins with everything unsaid, everything you never dreamed you’d hear from the Clown Prince of Crime. He meets your gaze once more, a faint scowl on his lips.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “maybe you’ll come of your own accord.” He tilts his head, his voice turning whiny again. “Because I’m so sick of having to go through all. This. Trouble.”

The cops close in, cuffing his outstretched hands. Joker doesn’t protest; he simply grins—a delirious mixture of sadness and triumph. As they pull him away, he lets out a manic giggle, calling over his shoulder:

“I’ll be waiting, my sweet hero. I’ll keep sending gifts— and next time, you won’t ignore me, will you?”

The museum falls silent, the Joker’s cackle fading into the background as he’s led outside. Part of you is relieved it’s over. Another part knows it won’t ever truly be over—because for the Joker, you’re not just a heroic rival. You’re an obsession, a twisted muse, the one he can’t bear to be without… even if he has to destroy Gotham to make you come running.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

We need a part two of the harley quinn mother headcanons!

SUGAR & SPICE!

pairings ⸺ Mother! Harley Quinn x Teen! Reader.

(PLATONIC FIC)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ Every mother reaches the moment when she sees her chick starting to become independent from the nest. Harley loved you from the moment she found you in that abandoned alley, and now she finds it hard to accept that you are drifting away.

If she knew why you were leaving her behind, she would probably be thinking about putting Robin in the oven.

warnings ⸺ Fluff and Angst, Platonic Cuddling, ¿OOC Harley? Idk, Disturbing Content, Street Fights, Violence, Trauma.

A/N ── Honestly, I didn't plan on making a continuation of that headcanon, but since you asked (and your requests are sacred to me), here it is! Shoutout to @animequeen4 for the inspiration too!

Pt.3

When you grow up as the child of one of the most notorious supervillains in Gotham, things get a bit complicated. Harley knew this since you entered school, and especially since she separated from the Joker. She had prepared for everything: to protect you from clowns, snakes, and even snakes disguised as clowns. But what she didn't see coming, what truly drove her crazy, was the biggest challenge of all: your adolescence.

Harley noticed it almost immediately. At first, it was small things. Like how you no longer wanted to listen to the music she played at full volume in the lair. Instead, you started listening to your own songs, the ones she described as "unbearable noise." Then came the decoration of your room, which went from posters of heroes and villains to something "weird," according to Harley. “Since when do you like bats so much?” she would say with an eyebrow raised. But what broke her heart the most was when you stopped letting her dress you. She got frustrated every time she tried to put something on you that she thought looked great, and you would just say, "No, mom, I don't like that anymore."

But the worst, the worst of all, was when you entered high school. You made friends. Friends whose names Harley didn't even know. Horrible! For someone like her, who was used to knowing all the details of your life, that was the worst that could happen. And on top of that, you no longer asked for permission to do things! The worst part was that she had raised you "well" (according to her criteria), so she didn't understand how you ended up at the police station several times for vandalism and disturbances.

"I raised you better than this!" she would shout, completely indignant, while signing the papers to get you out of another detention. Inside, she knew you were going through that rebellious phase, but that didn't make it any easier to cope.

One day, Harley stood at the door of your room, frustrated because you didn't even ask her for help with your math problems anymore. She stared at you, her hands on her hips, and exclaimed, “Look, little birdie, I get you! I know you're growing up and all that, but can you please stop doing it so fast? You're slipping through my fingers!”

It was a mix of desperation and tenderness. Harley wasn't ready to see you grow up. She knew you were becoming more independent, but in her heart, you would always be her little one. And even though she got frustrated with all these changes, with every new friend or every time you snuck out to go to a party, deep down she just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Puberty was a roller coaster, and Harley was starting to realize that nothing in her villain life had prepared her to deal with it. The first thing she noticed was that you no longer wanted to go out with her for taco Fridays with the girls. Those days when they went shopping, wore neon clothes, and had laughs while window shopping stopped being your thing. Harley watched you from the doorframe, taco in hand, saying, “What happened to my buddy? Where's the kid who loved to eat until stuffed full of carnitas?”

Sometimes, Harley tried not to take it to heart, but it was hard. She crumbled a little every time you locked yourself in your room instead of watching her roll around on the sofas with the Birds of Prey or with the Sirens, planning their next crazy scheme. It was then that she realized she needed help. So, as a good mother (or as close as she could get), she turned to the only person who could understand her frustration... Catwoman.

But the chat with Selina wasn’t exactly helpful. “Harley, sweetheart, I don’t mix with kids. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, mine has four legs and purrs,” Selina said, taking a sip of her martini while checking out a new leather whip. It was a "thanks, but no thanks," and Harley left with more questions than answers.

Next stop: Ivy. Harley had high hopes that Ivy, with her serenity and green wisdom, would give her the key to understanding you better. But Ivy just shrugged and said, “Plants grow, Harley. Just like kids. You can't stop the natural process.” Harley frowned. “And what do I do when they doesn’t want to tell me who he's with all day?” Ivy, very zen, replied, “You could always... spy ” It wasn't exactly the help she was looking for.

After exhausting her resources with the girls, Harley did the unthinkable: she turned to Batman. Yes, Batman! In a conversation that turned out to be as awkward as it was effective, the Dark Knight explained to her what he had learned from raising his multiple Robins: “It's part of growing up. You just have to be there, but give them space. You can't control everything.”

Harley, of course, took it with her usual dramatism: “Give them space!? But they doesn’t even want to go for tacos anymore!?” It was as if the world had turned upside down.

Meanwhile, at school, things weren’t going smoothly either. Your new “friends” were... questionable. People that Harley, if she had known, would have kicked out. But, for your luck (or misfortune), those friends didn’t last long. In the end, the problems they brought with them distanced you from them, and unexpectedly, you found yourself spending more time with Damian again. Harley, of course, had no idea about this. To her, Damian was just the rude boy you sometimes talked to.

There was always something about him that intrigued you, and despite his constant grumbling and "I don't care" attitude, you managed to see beyond that. Between talks about anything (and often about nothing), Damian became someone important to you. Harley had no idea about this mini romance, because if she did, she would probably already be plotting a plan to scare the Wayne boy. “If you think he’s cute, go for it,” she had once said with a mischievous wink. And although she didn't think you would take it seriously, here you were, emotionally entangled with Batman’s son, even though at that time you didn't know he was Batman's son.

It all started with an idea that, in retrospect, wasn’t the best: throwing paint cans at Robin. In your defense, it sounded like a funny prank at the moment. What you didn't calculate was that Robin, being Damian Wayne, wasn’t exactly easy to evade. You ran as if your life depended on it, covering almost twenty kilometers, and the most frustrating part was that he wasn’t even sweating. Every time you turned to see if you had lost him, there he was, impeccable, with that unfriendly look and his expression of "When I catch you, say goodbye to your legs."

When he finally threw you to the ground, ready to give you the lesson of your life, you looked at him more closely. That perfectly styled hair, that look of a thousand deaths, and the sarcasm in every phrase... "Damian?!" you shouted, more out of disbelief than fear. Because, of course, it turns out your boyfriend wasn’t just a rude jerk, but also the damn Robin. The pieces finally fell into place, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or feel betrayed. In the end, you did both.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he reprimanded you with that authoritative voice he usually reserved for criminals and his family. "Throwing paint? Seriously?"

The funny thing is that, even though you were completely exhausted from the chase, your brain didn’t stop working. So instead of apologizing like a normal person, you shrugged and said, "At least it wasn't green paint. That would have been offensive." He didn’t find it so funny.

From that moment on, the romantic dates became something much more... practical. Damian decided that if you were going to get into trouble, at least you should know how to defend yourself, so starry night strolls turned into intense self-defense training sessions. "Nothing says 'I love you' like a well-placed punch," you thought every time Damian corrected your stance. And although at first you considered it the least romantic of gestures, there was something sweet about how he insisted on keeping you safe.

Of course, these "dates" weren’t just training. Eventually, you met Jon Kent, the super-sweet boy who contrasted so much with Damian's serious personality. The trio you formed was a disaster waiting to happen, yet somehow it worked. Between secret missions, night escapades, and 'lots of fun,' the three of you became inseparable. But it was all super secret, because if Batman found out, well, the reprimand wouldn’t be exactly gentle. And Harley... well, don’t even think about what Harley would say if she found out.

But Harley, being Harley, didn’t take long to notice the changes. For her, it was alarming to see how her kid, her little birdie, was starting to come home late through the window, with two colors in his hair that reminded her a bit of her own lifestyle, and some bruises that you, of course, tried to hide. "Did you fall down the stairs again? Seriously?" she would ask skeptically while helping you tend to your wounds.

Her biggest fear wasn’t that you would get into minor trouble, but that he would have come back. Harley began to suspect that the Joker had found you, and that kept her in a constant state of alert. She watched you more closely, trying not to show it, but it was obvious. Nights with Damian always seemed to fly by. Between training, talks, and that connection you both shared, the hours slipped away without either of you noticing. That was how it happened that one particular night, after a long and exhausting session, he decided to walk you home. Not that you needed it, you were perfectly capable of getting home on your own (or so you said), but Damian liked to make sure you got home safely. Plus, it was an excuse to spend more time together.

It was already four in the morning, and you were ready to say goodbye with a kiss when suddenly, three giant hyenas sprang out from under your bed, and Harley, in full ninja mode, dropped from the ceiling with a baseball bat in hand. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You had to close the window, leaving Damian outside, to prevent your mom and the hyenas from getting to the "mom, chill," you tried to calm her, putting yourself between them. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh no! It looks like you're turning into a mini-Harley with a boyfriend and everything, and I'm not going to sit back and watch how they break your heart like that stupid clown broke mine!"

But you managed to slow her down, and with Harley calmed down (more or less), the tension of the moment seemed to dissolve, but she didn’t stop there. The next morning, she showed up at the Batcave (Only God knows how she found the Batcave), furious, and ready to confront Batman for allowing his son to "seduce" her little birdie. "What kind of father lets his son stay out late with my kid?! This is unacceptable!"

Bruce, who was busy with his screens, barely looked up. He listened to Harley’s furious monologue while maintaining his typical calm posture, nodding from time to time. When Harley finished, he just raised his thumb calmly, as if giving his approval. "Damian has good taste," was all he said.

"That doesn’t help me, Bats!" Harley exclaimed, frustrated. But Bruce, in his minimalist style, simply added, "You... should spend more time with your kid, Harley. Don’t worry so much. And if you need help, just let me know."

Harley was left speechless. It wasn’t the response she expected, but deep down, she knew Batman was right. She sighed and, resigned, left without more than a warning for Bruce: "Just because you told me that doesn’t mean I won’t hit you with my bat if things go wrong."

But the truth is that as Harley made her way home, she reflected a little. You were growing up, and although she didn’t like it, it was part of life. You couldn’t be her little one forever, and while the fear of losing you was always present, she knew she had to trust you. After all, she had raised you well (in her own way), and now she could only let you fly a little, like that little bird she often mentioned.

Back at home, she found you lying on the couch, still with some paint in your hair from the prank on Damian. Harley watched you for a while, noticing how much you had grown. Not just in height, but in attitude. The way you had started to move through the world, making your own decisions, forming relationships outside the little universe she had built for you. And that, even though she sometimes denied it, hurt her a little. She sat on the edge of the couch, sighing as she stroked your messy hair.

Harley noticed it before anyone. First, you stopped getting excited about taco Fridays with the girls or going out to dye your hair neon. Then, it was the uncomfortable silence when you no longer sought her advice for anything. You had become more independent, but Harley only saw you drifting away.

Harley sighed and looked at you with a mix of nostalgia and worry. “You’re growing up... and even though I hate it, I know I can’t stop it. I just want you to know that you will always be my little birdie. No matter how big you get, you will always have a place with me.”

You stayed silent, noticing how difficult it was for her to say it. Harley had been many things, but she had never stopped being your mother. You smiled at her and nodded, feeling a familiar warmth in your chest. "I love you too, mom. I promise I’m not drifting away, I’m just... growing."

Harley gave you a tight hug, and in that moment, you knew that even though everything might change, you would always find that common ground, whether it was stealing marshmallows or just sharing a night under the stars. "Puberty sucks," Harley joked, and for the first time in a long time, you both laughed together.

As the hug lingered, you felt how the outside world faded away, leaving only Harley and you in a bubble of safety and love. "I’ll be here, always ready for you, even if sometimes I’m a little... crazy,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But you know that’s what makes everything more fun, right?”

You nodded, and inside, the worry you had felt about drifting away from her faded. There was comfort in knowing that even though the road ahead might be complicated and full of challenges, you had a beacon lighting your way. A mother who, with her craziness and unconditional love, would always guide you home.

"Let’s promise to do more things together, then," you said with determination. "No matter if it’s stealing candy or painting our nails bright colors. There will always be time for that."

"Deal," said Harley, raising her pinky as if sealing a pact. You smiled and linked it with yours. The connection you shared was stronger than any challenge you could face.

"And when it’s time to face the world, I’ll be your ally," she added, a spark of determination shining in her eyes. "Because we will be a team, always."

After that, everything changed, but for the better. Learning to divide your time between everything you loved wasn’t easy, but you knew you would succeed. After all, you had the strongest support: that of your strange yet endearing family, that of your partner, and above all, that of the best mother you could have ever dreamed of.

A/N ─── Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to request anything, don't hesitate to ask. I read all of your comments and questions!

Take a Bath!

[overadores]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁thorns of love ౨ৎ lara raj

men, the most absurd of God's creature

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 poison ivy!lara x harley quinn!reader �� 𝘇 𐰁 headcanons!

.ᐟ cw: injuries, violence, kissing, seduction, partners in crime

So many people to kill...so little time

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara who loves to give you plants 'cause you keep telling her it feels lonely whenever she goes out.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where she sometimes use her pheromones whenever you two fight so that you could relax and let her explain everything.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where she has a secret playlist 'bout you in her work laptop and she plays it whenever she misses you (which is always)

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara who adores you—the only one immune to her toxins. during your heists, the moment you're hurt, your power surges, bodies dropping instantly. Lara cradles your face, whispering, "My deadly darling, they should know better than to touch what's mine." She ensures you never bleed, not out of fear—but because she loves watching you choose to kill.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara loves sharing facts about plant and you're just tuning her out when it gets too much

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara knows you love watching her plan—the way your eyes light up as she maps out escape routes, picks the perfect time, and lists tools like it’s an art form. She plays into it, sketching out heists with extra flair, just to see you grin. “Enjoying the show, yn?” she teases, smirking.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where she seduce you by using her pheromones whenever you're mad at her or too busy for her.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where during heists, Lara, ever the strategist, keeps you in check with her chlorokinesis. The moment they start rambling or giggling too loud, Lara’s vines gently wrap around their mouth, silencing them with an exasperated yet fond look. “Quiet, love,” she whispers. “Unless you want every guard in Gotham on us.” you just grin behind the leaves.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara who loves kissing your wounds after the heist cause its her way by healing you.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where she sings to you everytime you can't sleep.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara who almost kills joker with her poison emission when he tried manipulating you to join him again.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where as soon as Batman’s batarang sliced your arm, Lara’s eyes darkened with fury. Vines shot from the ground, wrapping around the Dark Knight, tightening with her every breath. "Don’t hurt my baby," she hissed, stepping in front of you like a shield. Her fingers traced your wound, her touch gentle despite the rage burning in her veins. "You okay, love?" she whispered, voice soft for you alone. Batman struggled, but Lara's wrath was an unyielding force of nature.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where you gear up for the mission—with the squad, tightening your gloves and Lara grabs your wrist, pulling you close. Her emerald eyes flicker with worry, lips parted as if debating something—then, without warning, she crashes her lips onto yours. The kiss is deep, almost desperate, her fingers curling into your collar. "Come back to me, okay?" she murmurs against your lips, her voice softer than usual. With a smirk, you wink. "Anything for you, Red." Then, you're gone.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara who always insists on trying to lift your mallet, even though she knows she can’t. She grips the handle, straining for a moment before sighing. Then, with a sly smirk, she extends her vines, wrapping them around the mallet and swinging it effortlessly. You lean against the wall, watching in amusement as she twirls it like it weighs nothing.

‧₊˚ ⋅ poison ivy!lara where after every date, she guides you onto the balcony, her fingers laced with yours. The moonlight spills over her as she lifts her hands, coaxing delicate blooms to life around you. Petals unfurl, vines curl along the railing, and the air fills with the scent of fresh roses. She twirls you into her arms, her lips brushing your ear. "Dance with me, love," she whispers, swaying you beneath the stars, her heart blooming only for you.

a/n: mystique megan next !!

[alixandra-multifandom-version]

My friends might make me feel like I'm being left out or even leave me..... but my fictional pookie would never!!!

[axetivev]

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would work in Arkham Asylum. Dealing with most of Batman's enemies and actually vibing with them and having a better relationship then Bruce to his enemies (and his husband isn't having it).

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who will have a session with Joker while Bats and Hood stared at the clown's very soul. Batman would be prepared if Jason had the feel to charge to Joker while Y/N tried to stay professional, but deep down, he just wanted to laugh his ass off.

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would tag along with Ivy about plants. Which led to papa!reader asking to buy plants to Bruce (in a ridiculous amount). Which led to Bruce coming to Arkham to question her; What did you do to my husband?

(MPREG INCOME) Papa!Reader, a Psychological who was pregnant and the super-villains, oddly enough. Gentle with him, unlike their usual evil persona, and if there's anyone who dares to say something horrible to him, they'll get a beat down.

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who was pretty much close to Batman like metal and magnet, talked so lovingly if anyone wasn't around. And the possibilities of his super-villains knowing Papa!reader was his husband made Bruce—i mean Batman go wild.

"My love... I can't let my enemies know I'm a lovebird with their psychologist..." Batman spoke, his voice was deep but barely a whisper while trying to stay professional as Papa!reader continues to shower his rough cheek with kisses.

"Mhm, deal with it, Bats. ♡"

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would often bring snacks to his patients, declining wasn't an option. And it would never be.

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who got books from Harley Quinn about psychology. And would come home with 2-4 huge books about it.

Alfred : If I may ask, where do you get them. Master Y/N?

Papa!reader : Harley Quinn.

Alfred : Ah... Miss Quinn.

Bruce spits his coffee : Quinn???

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would go on sessions with Damian (as Robin), clinging to him or when he sat down, Robin would rest his head in his lap, while reading a book or sleeping. And his patients would question Papa!reader

Patient : Why is the Boy Wonder sleeping on you?

Papa!reader who was writing while patting Robin's head : He's my son.

Patient who didn't hear it clearly : Your who...?

Papa!reader visibly sweating : Ah... j–just let him sleep! Let just continue—

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would always bring a pepper spray. Well, Bruce was the one who told him he should bring one...

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who is absolute besties with Harley, Batman would grumble about the fact she "took" his husband away from his grasp.

NSFW!!

Papa!Reader, a Psychological who would get pinned against his office desk. Stomach facing the wooden table as Batman pound his hole without mercy if jealousy rose or just needed a quickie.

Batman came to Papa!reader's office. As the male was on his desk, busy with some documents, the Dark Knight grabbed Papa!reader's waist, kicking his chair, Batman immediately pulled down Papa!reader's pants as his hole was in sight, he wasted no time. Immediately pulling his own pants, before inserting his length. Pounding his husband's hole without mercy.

"Mmh... B–bats... s–slow down...mm..ngh!" Papa!Reader moaned, as Batman inserted his index and middle finger to his husband's mouth.

"Keep your voice down. You're a good boy, I know you are." Batman smirked against his cheek, before planting kisses on Papa!reader's soft cheek.