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marcyvamp1re-blog · 3 months ago

Note

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!

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!

#x reader #dc x reader #neutral reader #yan blog #harley quinn #harley quinn x reader #harleen quinn #batman #bruce wayne #dc joker #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #jon kent #catwoman #selina kyle #harley quinn x poison ivy #poison ivy

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urdreamydoodles · 3 months ago

Text

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.

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dogbites-puppylove · 9 months ago

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Apple seed cyanide

TW: description of yandere mentalities and actions (obsession, possessive tendencies, stalking, etc)

Tags: Yandere! Joker x reader, Yandere! Harley x reader (platonic)

If you want the honest to god truth, Harley knew that the Joker was spewing saccharine filth from the start when he reached out with promises of a sweet little life, one with a darling family of their own. She knew because, after years of watching him pant after the trials of Batman, she saw he had no room other than his obsession left in his heart. But like a moth to firelight, she flutters dutifully back into his arms attracted by promises already broken

Imagine her surprise when shes greeted at the door with a bright smile, almost sane enough to trick her. He ushers her in with a sweet note in the air and a “surprise waiting for her” in the living room. Bound and gagged a couple is crying out on the floor, shaking their hands in a pathetic plea, and attempting to crawl away, and usually, Harley would be all for making a joke or two, but instead, all she can see is you. Your little presence floods all of her senses, sitting perfectly pacified on the floor. Behind her, she's aware of her partner's sick laughter, but she can't shake off the trance she's in.

You couldn't be older than 3, still without proper motor skills and a morbid curiosity stopping any critical preservation instincts that might have had you crying. This becomes more evident when instead of screaming, you giggle as the clown prince of crime crouches down to haul you up into an embrace, even bouncing you up into the air a few times to pry out more laughter. She can barely hear the shrieks of your old parents as the Joker finally deposits you safely into her arms, and as she cradles you close to her chest that aches for you. It's a physical hurt that almost overwhelmed her, the need to crawl inside you and live there, or for you to do the same, and it is in a stranger's house that Harley falls in love again.

“Sweet as honey ain't they?” the Joker coos and cackles at you, waggling a few fingers in front of your face, grinning even wider as you grab at them. “Full of curiosity that one is, a real riot!” but Harley can barely hear him much less acknowledge him past the roaring of blood in her ears. Her heart beating out of her chest she thinks it might just spill open to accommodate the organ trying to crawl closer to her darling. For the second and last time in her life, Harley is chained and leashed to another's will, a fate of coming to their beck and call, your will, her darling wrapped perfectly in her arms.

To the Joker's credit he does love you, or as close to love as he can get. He hushes your cries, indulges you in sweets behind Harley's back, and she's even caught him humming silly little tunes as he dances with you wrapped up in his arms. You bring clarity to him, a surety in his life that he doesn't feel unless pulling Bats along in another joke. You were going to be his perfect legacy, proof that he cannot truly die, you're a part of him in this way. Of course, you’d need a quick little dip into a vat of toxins to truly make a perfect legacy but you needn’t worry, he still loves you. You just need a little preparation first.

Every week he takes you on little daddy-darling outings, he tells Harley your going around to sightsee, and he lets you play a lot of fun games until the sun sets. And he's truthful because his warehouses are far and in between, and every mutilation he leads you so lovingly through is a fun little joke. His little comedian, hell coo as he leads your hand tightly clasping a knife against the throat of one of his own boys who had tried to run. Isn't this fun sweetheart?

He underestimates, however, just how devoted Harley is because while she was fully delusional when they had first gotten into a relationship Harley cannot spare you as collateral damage to her own fantasies. She is painfully grounded as she takes in everything about you 24/7, your expressions, words, actions anything she can she takes to covet away in her mind forever. As much as she is a monster she is your mother and she loves you, you are anything she's ever had and everything she'll ever have. He doesn't realize that she obsessively checks over you, even spotting the smallest flecks of blood, how when she kisses you goodnight she can see the thin sheen of apathy take hold of your gaze.

The final straw comes in the form of a huge argument, she comes home early from work eager to see her little baby, when she finds the Joker cooing into your ear, goading you into doing your best as your hands wrap around a familiar gun. Like the devil on her shoulder, she can't even scream as you pull the trigger, eyes momentarily twitching but no other expression as your former parent's brains paint the windows. And she realizes as you turn around to smile at her sweetly with blood on your teeth and tears that seem so foreign streaming down your face that you need to leave, she has to get you away.

That night she takes you, just 9 years old, and runs. She has no real destination, just a desperate notion to get away, to save you from all that she knows the joker is trying to make you. She can't, she can't let you go through what she knows will force you into the type of person you never wanted to become. Because she can see herself in the mirror and can mourn normal happiness and stability, and she has watched the joker bleed himself dry until he has nothing to himself but an old laugh track repeating over and over again. It's a life of agony and you don't deserve that, not you, never you.

Of course, her body ends up leading her to Ivy’s place, and the woman can only stare in shock as her best friend who had gone radio silent all those years back collapses at her door holding a kid so close she might be trying to meld into one. “Please, please not my baby” Harley begs and any anger that Ivy could have had melts.

For a while it's paradise, the Gotham sirens all corralling once again in their glory, and with their very own new member, you. Selina takes to you quickly, cooing about how her kitten is just the most clever thing in the world as you quickly work through her little trips. (Privately she will worry to Harley about the lack of awareness you have for your own health, the way your eyes glaze over when a plan takes place, and the brutality you exhibit.) Ivy also takes to you quickly, teasing you with little nicknames (how can you be a sapling when you're a human?) and she teaches you how to nurture, how to care for plants and love them as they deserve. (And she will confide to Harley how you seem to take to poisons particularly well, how you are able to craft things more disastrous than she can dream, how your curiosity always leans to the morbid.)

Harley herself takes great energy and care into trying to undo what the Joker has done, it's laughable how Gotham's greatest villains all sit in a circle every week and preach about morals and empathy. But to their credit, it works, and though you may not be able to feel the full existence of motion, though you can't seem to feel it as deeply as others your heart still throbs with what must make you human. You learn consequences and cling with desperation to these little lessons that prove you aren't your mentor. (not father, not anymore)

And yet Harley can still see how your apathy takes hold in the face of curiosity, how you prefer crowbars over teddy bears, and how despite your hardest efforts empathy is always a little too easy to push away in favor of hard-earned apathy. (and she knows, she knows that as long as that bastard is still out there doggedly searching the ground for you, you won't ever truly be safe) so she makes a deal.

The phone rings and Bruce can only raise an eyebrow at the untitled phone number, he doesn't make a habit of giving out his number so uselessly so after the third ring he picks up.

“Hello? This is Bruce Way-”

“Hey Bats.” Alarm shoots through the roof at a voice he hasn't heard in years, and yet still so closely relates to his arch-nemesis.

“Harley? How did you get this-”

“Listen, listen I know it's gonna sound real bad but I- I need you to hear me out. A favor, I need a favor. I'll go back to Arkham, stay there for the rest of my days but, I” she breathes and it's far too shaky for the woman he knows her to be. “My baby” she sobs “You gotta keep my baby safe, he's out there Bats and he won't leave em alone as long as their alive.”

Through his confusion, Bruce manages to calm her down, and wrangles a short story out of her, how she and Joker had played family until she couldn't bear to see you break anymore and how she knew that she alone couldn't keep her darling safe. And maybe it's the boy staring at the corpse of his family in Crime Alley that speaks instead of himself but he finds himself reaching out to help. (he can't let another family split, not when he can help it). As long as Harley doesn't kill, no more lethal tactics, and as long as she reports everything she knows about joker, and works with him against him, she can stay outside of Arkham walls. And as for you?

Your tenth birthday hits and Bruce Wayne steps into your living room with a strangely calculating gaze and a warm smile.

“You must be Y/N? Ah, nice to meet you officially, my name is Bruce Wayne, and ill be your foster family.”

Author's Note: Another reupload. ALSO! I HAVE GOTTEN THE ANON ASKS!! I AM JUST A SLOW WRITER I’LL GET TO EM I PROMISE!!

#yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam #harley quinn x reader #joker x reader

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batmans-archnemesis · 5 months ago

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healing is realizing lego batman was the best version after all.

#batman #lego batman #dc comics #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #dc joker #lego #joker x reader #harley quinn

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jinxposting · 1 month ago

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Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 1

Debut

Your official debut as the Joker's sidekick didn't come till you were 17

People knew of you prior to this, they knew Joker and Harley had been harboring a little maniac with a penchant for bombs

The uptake in explosives the Joker employed was less than subtle proof something had changed

Harley being a tad more mentally stable (tad being the key word) didn't want their surrogate child being caught in any crossfire

Joker didn't care

So they compromised with you being allowed to build your devices but not allowed to have any direct involvement in their escapades

Then you grew older and more confident

You demanded to be more involved

This of course came with risks

No more free roaming the streets of Gotham, now you'd have a target on your back

And most notably there was the Batman

Though he didn't know the exact nature of your relationship with Joker he was already well aware of your existence, just not your face or name

Until today

You were tasked with protecting the Joker's new cargo shipment. Weapons for the henchmen, canisters to house laughing gas, just your typical odds and ends. Easy work.

Or it should have been.

The Bat decided to make an appearance. He made quick work of your 'partners' (low level thugs really). You weren't worried though. You knew that the Dark Knight had strict rules not to kill. But you didn't.

You triggered the preemptively placed smoke bombs. Walking out to the front of the ship, still unloaded and parked in the harbor, you came face to face with the infamous Batman.

He stared you down, no surprise nor malice. Just a warning look.

"Hi."

You pulled the pins on two grenades and threw them at the man. With a flourish of his cape he shielded himself. Long enough for you to slip away.

That was until a blur of red and black caught your eye. And a fist. You weaved out of the way, barely missing the punch.

"Woah there, Boy Wonder. Don't you know the rules? You can't hit a girl!"

"You're not a girl, you're a villain."

"It's called duality."

The boy growled and threw another punch. Again, you weaved out of range. You reached behind your back for the gun you kept on hand. With a swift kick however, it went flying from your grasp. You were tackled to the floor, Robin pinning you down with a snarl.

"You aren't used to a fair fight, are you?"

"Fair my ass, there's two of you!"

"What are you even supposed to be?" The boy scrutinized your appearance. "Joker 2.0?"

"Jinx."

"What?"

"My name is Jinx."

The masked boy scoffed. "That doesn't match at all."

"Oh, and remind me what a robin has to do with bats?"

The boy opened his mouth only to immediately close it. He looked away in embarrassment. "I didn't pick it."

An opening.

You kneed him between the legs before rolling him over. The boy groaned out in pain. Before you could run a hand pulled you by the hair. You curse your long braids.

"That's enough."

You turned to eye the large man in black. There he stood, scowling, with a fist full of your green locks. You stared blankly.

"Can you let go now?"

"Depends. Are you going to run?"

You merely offered a smile

"Then no."

That was the first time you found yourself in the back of the batmobile.

Restrained to your seat of course, held against your will, Batman attempting to interrogate you. Still, you couldn't help but beam at the vehicle. Buttons and switches lined the dash with a voice activated screen in the middle. Hell, even the seats were equipped with built in tasers. You were in awe.

"This. Is. Amazing! What's the mileage on this baby? Do you really have an oil slick? What about tire jacks?!"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Uh, duh! That's why I asked."

The boy in the seat ahead of you mumbled something you couldn't hear. If your legs were free you'd have kicked the back of his seat.

"Hey, Boy Blunder. What's your damage? You caught me, didn't ya? Quit whining."

"You kicked me in the-!"

"Robin."

Batman didn't even take his eyes off the road. At least you don't think he did. Hard to tell with the mask. The boy crossed his arms defensively. Though he didn't say anything.

Oh? This would be fun.

"So... why a robin? Small, dainty, useless..."

He turned in his seat to face you. "So help me-"

"Robin."

"But she-!" The Bat glared this time. "I'm just supposed to let her trash talk me?!"

"You're supposed to ignore her."

"Yeah, Robin. Ignore me." You grinned.

Before he could retort a sudden crash reverberated through the car. Green smoke flooded the windshield. You'd recognize your handiwork anywhere.

"Hey, Batsy!" You heard Harley sing out. "I think you took somethin' o' mine."

It didn't take too long for Harley to rescue you. Batman may have strength but your family has speed. And bombs. Lots of bombs.

When you returned to the hideout Joker was less than pleased. You fumbled the shipment and had to be rescued. How pathetic.

Now he thinks I'm weak.

I am not weak!

And I'll prove it.

#dc comics #bat family #jason todd #batman #joker #harley quinn #jason todd x reader #villain reader #jinx reader #jinx jumbles

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x-gabrielle-x · 5 months ago

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Withered Cards | I

Pairings: Jason Todd x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death.

Summary: Despite the many problems you overcome with Jason Todd, you always eventually make it back to each other. Even after his death, how could you still love a man who changed so much? Even when you made a turn for the worst.

Series Masterlist

No child would ever imagine the world to be as cruel as it really is.

Yet then again, most adults would refrain from exposing their children into the world, the harsh reality of it, at least, and Gotham was definitely a place of violence and rage.

The small nightmares every child would experience would never live up to the cruel reality of the world.

"Y/N, baby, get up," your mother whispered into your ear, panicked and rushed, causing for your eyes to flutter open.

It was still dark, meaning that it couldn't be morning, but your mother was hunched beside your bed with her fingers trailing through your hair, and that was when your gaze met her own fearful ones.

Her voice was so low in a whisper that you could barely manage to hear, fearful of what - or who - could hear us.

"We need to leave, baby. Come on."

With your eyes still groggy and barely comprehending the situation, your mother's arms carefully scooped your body up from beneath the warmth of your blankets, her grip tight and secure as she adjusted your body in her hold. You didn't fail to notice the heavy thumping of her chest and the pale complexion to her face.

“Mummy?” You asked, but she was quick to hush you, her gaze burning into the door with a look of terror you would never forget.

She waited, as if she were expecting the door to swing open any moment, but it only left the both of you in a deafening silence. Despite the obvious confusion set on your face, your mother chose to ignore it, not giving any indication as to what was occurring on the other side of the door.

With the few passing moments, your grip on her tightened, and the many fearful questions were swarming your mind. You were scared, but of what?

Without a word, she took a single step toward the door with you still held tightly in her arms, and just as her hand went to grasp the handle-

“Mum!” You spoke, too loud for her liking, because she jumped back away from the door as if it had burnt her flesh and clasped a tight hand over your mouth. She listened carefully, and when she was comfortable enough, she took her hand away.

“What did I tell you?” She whispered harshly, but her eyes softened when she saw the fearful gaze you held. “What is it?”

You pointed behind you both, back to your bed where your favorite teddy laid beside the unmade sheets. It was only small, the perfect size for a small child, with soft brown fur and button eyes. You remembered that night your father came home from work, a bouquet of various different flowers for your mother in one hand, and in his other hand he held the brown bear. He had just gone away on a long business trip, and you were overly excited after not seeing him the last few weeks. Maybe it was the fact it was from your dad, or maybe it was simply because of the soft fur, but it was by far your favorite teddy to hold while you slept.

Letting out a long cautious sigh, your mum quickly picked up the bear before giving it to you, your hands instantly going to clutch at the teddy while your mum went back over to the door.

“Ok, sweetheart. I’m going to need you to play a game with me, ok?” She looked down at you, and you nodded despite the darkness of your bedroom, only your lamp casting a small glow around the room.

She smiled gently and gave a quick peck to your forehead.

“Ok, we’re going to see who can be quiet the longest. I know you always beat me, and that’s why when I put you down, you’re going to run and hide so we can do some hide and seek.”

If it weren’t for the dim light, you only just managed to catch a glimpse of the hot tear streaking down your mother's cheek.

“Do you understand, baby?”

You nodded once more, holding a finger up to your lips as your sign you knew you had to be quiet. She let out a quiet breathy laugh.

You watched as she reached forward, her hand shaking as she grasped the door handle and slowly twisted it, pushing the door open. It was dark, the only source of light being the living room light from downstairs. You heard a small muffle of voices, one you recognized to be your father.

You wondered if maybe your dad had decided to play with you, too. Maybe that’s why your mum had been so quiet and told you to hide.

Your mum knelt down, carefully placing you down onto your feet before she stood up to her full height. You thought that it was your time to start hiding, but right as you went to turn, her hand was grasping yours tightly and she was walking down the stairs to where your father and the unknown strangers were.

There was a wall dividing the living room and the stairs, so anybody on the other side wouldn’t be able to see your mother and you crouched down at the bottom of the stairs. You watched as your mother peeked around the corner, probably to check that nobody was looking, because she was quick to pull you along to the other side of the room. You only caught a glimpse of the living room.

Your father was leant up against the kitchen counter, still clad in his pajamas, whilst five men you had never seen before stood beside the dining table. Four of them were each dressed in black, but the one in the middle was wearing what looked to be a clown costume. A purple suit with a weird bow tie, his skin as pale as a sheet of paper that made him look almost sickly. His hair was also a deep green, and for a moment you wondered if you even saw right.

The clown had a huge grin plastered onto his face, almost too wide to be natural, revealing his slightly yellowed teeth.

Your mother pushed you against the wall to remain out of sight, and when she knelt down to your level to get a good look at you, you could see the tears now freely falling from her eyes.

“Ok, my sweet girl. It’s time to hide,” she whispered next to your ear, her breath tickling your skin.

You nodded, and that’s when she leant forward to press a lingering kiss to your cheek, her fingers combing through your hair, just like how she would do it any other day to simply play with your hair.

With a quick nod, she gently pushed on your shoulders and watched as you sneakily crept to your chosen hiding spot.

It was by far your favorite spot, a small hatch underneath the desk pushed up against the wall. It was hidden beneath the few piles of shoes cluttered around, and you had to hastily move them enough to open the hatch.

You cringed once the hinges made an old rusty screech, and with ease you crawled inside, making sure to close the hatch securely behind you. Hugging your knees to your chest, you shuffled your position and felt the rough dirt and dust cling to your clothes. The bear that was still held in your hand was put at your feet, even though you couldn't see it with the darkness.

Although you could still vaguely hear the ongoing conversation, most of what you could hear was muffled. You tensed once you heard the loud cackles of the green haired man, shivers erupting over your body.

“Mrs. Y/L/N! How lovely to see the family together- oh wait, no… your little girl isn’t here?” He mocked sadness.

“She won’t be coming, Joker,” You heard your dad speak before your mother could, his voice stern and protective.

“Aw, what a shame. I was really looking forward to meeting the little lady! Perhaps maybe I can after this has all blown over.”

At this point, your confusion only grew. Nobody was coming to find you yet, and your mum was now in the same room as your dad and those other men. You felt your gut twist uncomfortably, and the fear was coursing through your body.

You wanted your parents. You didn't like this game anymore. You could only wish you were back in the warmth of your bed, peacefully asleep and unaware of the world around me.

Your mother let out a sudden loud sob.

“Please, just- just don’t hurt us or our baby. She doesn’t know anything,” you heard her cry more, and before another word could be said, a loud gunshot echoed throughout the house causing you to jump and bump your head on the hatch door.

“No!” You heard your dad scream, and it was then that you knew none of this was right. His voice was a tone you had never heard before, filled with pain and anger. You didn’t hear your mother anymore. Was she-

“I did you a favor,” the Joker cooed, your fathers muffled crying echoing throughout the house. “Women are picky. You can’t tell me the girl didn’t annoy you at least once?! You should be thanking me!”

“You monster!” Your dad screamed, before he was harshly cut off by him grunting in pain.

“Now, now, don’t be so picky. She was bothering the both of us. Now, where’s your little girl?” The Joker said, clapping his hands in a ‘chop-chop’ motion.

There was no response from your father, and you didn’t even realize the fresh tears streaming down your cheeks and falling onto your knees. You held back any whimpers in order to stay hidden.

“If you won’t tell me,” the Joker started, his tone switching from cheerful to dark. “Then I’ll get her myself.”

It was barely a few seconds, five at least, before the hatch door was swung open and your arms were grabbed. You screamed and thrashed, before you were harshly pushed forward onto the floor. Your head made impact with the wooden slats, and you cried out.

Despite the tears clouding your vision, you didn’t fail to notice the body of your mother laying lifeless on the floor, hot crimson blood spilling from a hole in her head and pooling around the floor, her blue top now stained red. Her eyes were open, glazed over and lacking life, and it looked as if she was merely frozen in fear.

You weren’t crying anymore. The tears had stopped, and now you could only watch with wide eyes the sight before you. Your mum, who you had touched and talked to and heard only a few minutes ago, was dead.

“Y/N,” your dad called, his arms outstretched, and you were knocked from your thoughts and practically stumbled into his open arms.

“Don’t look, baby. It’s ok, just don’t look,” he whispered into your ear, but his voice was shaky, and you could feel his own tears soaking into the fabric of your pajama shirt.

You heard footsteps near, but you refused to remove your face from the crook of your dad's neck, the only way to hide the scene behind you. You felt a cold hand pat your head, and your dad tugged you away from the stranger.

“Beautiful little girl you’ve gotten yourself, Xavier. She looks almost identical to you,” the Joker teased. “You know, I bet she’ll become just as great a fighter as you, huh? Just imagine it, father and daughter, working alongside the one and only Joker to rule over Gotham! Oh, it will all be so much fun, what do you say?”

You turned your head a little, catching a glimpse of the Joker crouching at the knees in front of your father and you, the smile never leaving his face. When your dad didn’t say anything, the Jokers sickening gaze drifted to you.

“How about we let the little one decide, huh? What do you think, little clown?”

You didn’t need to try answering, because your dad's grip on your body was tightening to the point you could just barely breathe.

“No, you sick shit! She’s only a kid! She’s only just started second grade. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”

For a moment, it was quiet.

“You’re right…” You heard Joker sigh, standing to his feet. “Maybe that’s why we need to let her choose for herself, and to not be influenced by the wrong kind of people.”

The Joker clicked his fingers once. Two of the guards came forward and pried you from your father's warm embrace, and once more you were crying, reaching out for him. You watched as he attempted to fight to get you back but was pinned down by the other two guards while Joker stood over him.

“Such a shame, really. I did enjoy your small family. Unfortunately, it might just need to be a little smaller now.” he reached into his suit pocket, pulling out what looked to be a long needle filled with a black tinted liquid. “Recognize this?”

You watched as your dad's eyes widened, and tears streamed down his face while his voice cracked with each word.

“P-please, not my little girl. Not my girl. I’ll do anything!”

Joker laughed, loud. “Oh, you poor man. This wasn’t for the child! I’m not that cruel!” He stalked closer to your father, watching in amusement as he thrashed wildly in an attempt to escape. You saw the fear flash in his eyes.

The Joker leant close to his face, licking his lips in a mocking manner while holding up the small needle so that your dad could see.

“This wasn’t meant for your daughter, it was meant for you, silly!” And just like that, the sharp tip of the needle was penetrating your dad's flesh at the neck, his eyes grown wide in horror. He didn’t even try to fight anymore, his body giving up while he turned his head to you for the last time.

“Y/N,” he chocked, and you watched with frightful eyes as black veins spread across his neck, traveling over his body like bolts of lightning. He groaned in pain.

"I love you so much, baby. I'm sorry," he cried. "Do you understand? I love you so much."

Your body shook as his eyes met yours. You didn't have the voice to say it back, and you saw the hurt flash in his eyes. Opening your mouth, the only thing that would come out was a chocked sob.

He fell onto his side, limp.

The Joker wiped a fake tear. "Oh my, how sad..."

He paid no mind as you continued to cry, calling out for your parents. You were sure that you were next, and you flinched when you felt the Joker's hand pat your head. He let out a maniacal laugh the more you cried, and you physically struggled to inhale more air. Nearly instantly, he frowned to what you thought was sympathy, tutting.

“Don’t worry about them, my new apprentice! Life would have been so boring here; I'm giving you another chance! How exciting! Harley will be thrilled!"

You didn't fight as he took your hand, your shaky body going to stand beside him. Even when he continued to drag you toward the door, your gaze was trained on the bodies laid out in the middle of the room, and it was then that you realized that the only person you had now was this man.

A monster brought from your nightmares.

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

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superyum · 8 months ago

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It drives me insane that I can’t find a twerking scenario for dc characters yet. Like I wanna know Dick’s or Bruce reaction to reader shaking some ass in a club on a Tuesday night to release stress. Clark Kent getting a lappy for the first time, is he foaming at the mouth or WHAT? What about a girl days in with Harley and it turns into a twerk off?? Give me some fucking “baby grind on me~” content pleassse. I already know marvel does, very few, but it’s a hell lot more than dc.

#dc comics #dc universe #dcu #dc x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #barry allen x reader #jaime reyes x reader #clark kent x reader #ᝰ commissioner… this is batman | ttm #Jason Todd x reader #harley quinn x reader #joker x reader

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blakeswritingimagines · 2 years ago

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Who fell first and who fell harder

Joker: You fell first and harder

Harley Quinn: She fell first and harder

Catwoman: She fell first and harder

Riddler: He fell first but you fell harder

Penguin: He fell first and harder

Scarecrow: You fell first but he fell harder

Deathstroke: You fell first and harder

Bane: He fell first but you fell harder

Mr Freeze: He fell first and harder

Two-Face: He fell first but you fell harder

Poison Ivy: You fell first but she fell harder

Killer Croc: You fell first and harder

#joker x reader #harley quinn x reader #catwoman x reader #riddler x reader #penguin x reader #scarecrow x reader #deathstroke x reader #bane x reader #mr freeze x reader #two face x reader #poison ivy x reader #killer croc x reader #dc #dc hcs #dc headcanon

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acid-ixx · 7 months ago

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(name) wayne, gagged and tied to a chair:

the villain, untying their gag: hahaha! i have kidnapped you for ransom and your father only has 5 hours left to save you by paying me!!!

(name) wayne: damn bruh my father hasn't spoken to me in 13 and a half years i don't think he's coming for me at all, better if you shoot me instead lmao cause i don't think batman would save me either

villain: ...

yan! villain, untying your ropes: welp, kidnapping is basically illegal adoption, am i right?

(name) wayne: as long as i'm fed three times a day and you read me bed time stories before i sleep then i guess that counts?

yan! villain: sweetheart, you are getting more than that.

#🧁... yael's misc.#series: again & again #a&a: incorrect quotes #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere roman sionis #yandere black mask #yandere joker #yandere harley quinn #yandere harvey dent #yandere riddler #platonic yandere #soft yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #ignore the random list of villains those were in the back of my mind

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va-3 · 11 months ago

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They're Injured

Masterlist

Joker:

Joker was always being hunted, shot at, and chased in car chases. Yes, you were always with him, and it technically was your job to sacrifice your life for his if it eventually came to such a point, but Mr. J had switched the roles. A gunfight had broken out in Mr. J's club. You'd repeated yourself at least ten times, yelling at Mr. J to get him to either leave or get down. Instead, he managed to switch roles and send you rolling under a table to watch him get shot in the shoulder. It goes to say that you were as pissed as you were worried, seeing that your greeting to him later was a sharp punch to the stomach followed by a passionate kiss.

Captain Boomerang:

Digger was used to being in the line of fire, and was less than worried when he took a shot to the leg in a less than pleasant robbery. You, on the other hand, upon discovery of his wild adventure and injury, panicked in the most subtle way possible. Unfortunately, subtle in your dictionary was drive over to his house at 2am, kick down the door, scold him, and then proceed to break down crying.

Deadshot:

In his line of work it was not unusual for him to be hunted in return, as was the occasional "battle-wound". You, on the other hand, found yourself worrying more than you should've. Death was a difficult enemy of mortals, not you, therefore you were entitled to the worry and fear that accompanied the blossoming of your relationship. Needless to say, you had him on a house lock-in for quite some time after his shoulder had been shot clean through. (snuggles were very much included)

El Diablo:

Injuries in battle were hard to avoid, as were near death experiences. You watched in horror as Chato shoved the ancient being towards the location of a lethally powerful charge. When it went off, you were nowhere to be found for a good few seconds. The team was confused until they heard you sobbing from behind the blasted ground, cradling an unconscious, severely injured, but alive Chato.

Killer Croc:

Waylon, bruised an battered after the battle with Enchantress, was pleasantly surprised when you body-slammed/bear-hugged him to near death. You'd never been so worried in your entire life, and although the injuries he sustained were little, your entire being was telling you he was gonna die. It was hard to explain that he was okay through your mix of blubbering and cursing.

Harley Quinn:

When Harleen freed you from your solitary-confinement room, she was not herself. You were happy to see her, but the joy was quickly overrun with worry when you spotted the two burn marks on either side of her temple left behind by what you knew was electroshock. Concerned, you questioned her like an officer would a criminal until she gave out and let you tend to her wounds before fleeing the cursed institution(no regrets there).

June Moone:

June's well being meant everything to you, any moment you felt she was in danger you try your hardest to keep her from it. But mental damage was something you could not fight, or shoot. June was tormented nightly by the dangerous being using her as a vessel, and it broke you to know that you could not do anything about it. Instead, you did your best to comfort her: held her close, calmed her with kisses, and gave her the love she needed to mend her broken soul. With your love, June felt the power to face anything.

Enchantress:

The mortal soldier held your love's heart in his hands, threatening to crush everything you loved for something he loved. When she refused, your eyes flashed with panic. The soldier began to crush her heart, causing her to shriek with unbelievable pain. Terrified of losing the only person who saw you as a blessing, you snatched the heart from the soldier in a bolt of light. In the flash of light, time slowed around you, giving you just enough time to sway Enchantress' spirit from the human girls body and into one you summoned from your own power. You and your lover backed away from the mortal and his human lover, happy to be safe.

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 3 months ago

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The Wildcard!

pairings ⸺ Mother! Harley Quinn x Child! Reader.

(PLATONIC FIC)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ Being a kid raised under the Joker’s wing isn’t exactly what anyone imagines when they talk about a "good childhood." I mean, it’s not like you’re gonna get bedtime stories when your father figure is a psychopathic clown, right? Although, now that I think about it, he probably did tell you stories before bed—just that his versions ended with explosions and maniacal laughter instead of happy endings. You never really know with him.

But, hey! There was always mom Harley. And while she wasn’t exactly the classic model of a devoted mother, Harley definitely had her moments. Those times when she’d look at you with those big, wide eyes and promise she’d protect you from everything, even from herself. And that says a lot, considering that sometimes even she didn’t know who she needed to protect herself from.

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

Guide! Pt.2

A/N ── Yes, damn it, yes! My first request! Thank you so much, really, thank you! No need to clap, I’ll get all blushy uwu. I put all my love and care into this. Hope you enjoy it to the fullest!

In reality, you were not her biological child. She knew that very well, and moreover, she knew that Mr. J would never want a child with her. In fact, it had never been part of the plan. "Kids are a hassle" the Joker would say, with that shrill laugh that coursed through his body like an electric shock. And Harley, well, she didn't exactly want a baby either. Until she found you.

Harley found you among the rubble, covered in blood, although it wasn't yours (at least that's what she hoped). You couldn't have been more than five months old, and there was no trace of your mother. At that moment, her intentions weren't exactly maternal, but what could you expect from a criminal at 2 AM? However, something in your little eyes disarmed her. You were small, defenseless, and upon seeing you… well, she simply couldn't resist.

Thus began your life with Harley Quinn. It wasn't the most typical childhood, that's for sure. Mr. J saw it as just one of his whims, and as long as you didn't cry and stayed out of his business, you were welcome. According to him, it was easier to raise a little clown from childhood.

To begin with, your toys were not exactly "age-appropriate." Mr. J had a fixation with explosives, so more than once you found yourself playing with what you hoped was an innocent candy box, only for Harley to shout from across the room: "Honey, no! That's not a toy, it's dynamite! Give me that!"

Ah, motherhood. A tough job, yes, but also something Harley never thought would come to her in such an… unexpected way. In her former life, when she was still Dr. Quinzel, she envisioned a normal existence, perhaps with a good job that would provide stability. But well, one thing led to another, and there she was, raising a baby who wasn't biologically hers, but whom life —and Gotham— had placed in her arms. And although her life with the Joker was total chaos, she always made sure of one thing: that you were safe.

In her twisted way of seeing the world, Harley protected you even from him, from Mr. J himself. She knew how unpredictable the Joker could be, so she did everything possible to make sure you were never in the same room for too long. And even though it sometimes seemed like the Joker didn't even notice your existence, Harley made sure to keep that distance. "I want you to be different" she would tell you while fixing your hair with a smile, "I don't want you to end up fistfighting with Batman like mommy."

Harley loved playing with you, especially at being doctors. There was something almost nostalgic for her in that, as if every time she saw you healing your dolls, a small part of the old Dr. Quinzel awakened within her. She loved seeing you with your toy stethoscope, focused as if you were in the middle of a serious operation.

"Mom! Miss JeanieBeanie had a broken heart, and I healed her with words! Just like you told me." Harley smiled, that big, bright smile that only she could make, and although she always tried to maintain the toughness of her persona, she couldn't help but let a tear escape. "Ah, sweetie, you're a genius."

And then, of course, there was the topic of school. You couldn't attend school known as the Joker's kid, that was for sure. So with a little colorful dye, a lot of makeup in the morning, and some nice clothes, Harley would take you to school incognito, as if you were a completely normal child. At least, she tried to make you seem that way. The first days were a disaster, though.

It wasn't that Harley didn't trust the school's safety, but, of course, being the Joker's Queen left her paranoid. So there she was, lurking around the windows of your classes, hiding behind bushes, trying to ensure that no madman would come in with a Kalashnikov to disrupt your school life. Sure, she was kicked out most of the time, but she always returned. Harley always returned.

Sometimes, when she couldn't see you during recess, she'd send you hidden messages in your lunchbox, with little doodles and silly jokes that made you laugh out loud. She worried a lot about you not making friends. "Remember, sweetie, if any kid bothers you, just smile like me and show them who's boss. But don't hit them, okay? Save that for later."

When the Joker finally broke up with her, it was a disaster, like a train derailing in slow motion. But just like with everything else, Harley made sure that the blow didn't fall on you. She never let Mr. J's chaos reach you because you were her priority, her sweetie. So, holding her hand, you left with her without looking back, with her suitcase in one hand and a bat in the other.

Since then, life became a bit more complicated, but also freer. Harley and you had to make do by stealing to survive, moving from place to place until ending up in a small apartment in Gotham's Chinatown. It wasn't the best area, but hey, it had charm. There, the nights were long, the walls thin, and the sounds of street fights mixed with your laughter while you tried to do homework and Harley gave you "life advice" that included how to escape from the police in style.

"Do you know what's faster than a bullet?" she'd say while looking at your face painted in bright colors before running off with a stolen shopping cart. "You, with the right attitude!"

Harley let herself go with alcohol during some tough times, but she always kept you away from that dark side. Sure, she bought a hyena and named it Bruce, which was simply hilarious. Bruce, like that perfect man on the magazine covers that you both secretly adored. "Bruce, come here, let's go for a walk!" you'd hear her shout down the street, and the neighbors wouldn't even blink. It was Gotham, after all.

By then, you were almost done with school. Amid the chaos of your life, you made a friend... Damian something (Wayan or something like that, you were bad with names). He wasn't the friendliest person in the world; in fact, "brat" would be a kind description, but for some reason, he intrigued you. "Mom says that if a boy or girl seems cute to you, you should go for it!" you told him once, repeating Harley's wise advice. Of course, Damian just looked at you like you were the weirdest thing he'd ever seen (and mind you, he had seen weird things; he's 'friends' with the nerd Jon). And although he maintained his air of arrogance, you found him adorable in a way that even he didn't understand.

Some nights, Harley and you would just lie on the rooftop of some building, looking at the lights of Gotham. With bags of marshmallows stolen from a grocery store, you'd roast them with a lighter while she told you stories. But not normal stories, rather ones involving car chases and explosions. No princesses and castles, more like villains and spectacular escapes. Sometimes, Selina Kyle would join in. "It's easier than you think" she'd say, winking at you while showing you how to sneak into a museum without setting off the alarms. It was never a typical childhood, but it sure was entertaining.

When Harley joined (temporarily) the Birds of Prey, things started to improve a little. You had more people around you, like a dysfunctional family you didn't know you needed. The girls tried to be a good influence, although with Harley, that was always relative. But at least there were fewer explosions and more quiet nights; just that "quiet" in Harley's terms meant motorcycle races, sporadic thefts, and bar fights. Pure fun!

And occasionally, Ivy, her "friend," would come to visit them. You thought she was amazing, so elegant, so calm... You knew there was something more there. "Kiss already!" you shouted at them once, laughing, watching how Harley blushed slightly while Ivy rolled her eyes with a smile.

But despite everything, Harley never stopped being an incredible mom, in her own way. On the toughest nights, when you'd curl up in her lap after a long day, she'd stroke your hair and whisper, "You know, sweetie, I never thought I'd be a mom, but you're the best thing that ever happened to me." And although it wasn't a typical motherhood, there was something comforting in knowing that amidst all that chaos, you could always count on her.

So, amid thefts, stolen marshmallows, and moments filled with love, Harley gave you a childhood that wasn’t normal, but was filled with adventures, laughter, and unconditional love. And what more could you ask for when you have Harley Quinn as your mom?

A/N ─── My first request uwu~ I’m so excited! I really hope I did it well, and that you all like this little headcanon. I put all my love into it, so if you have more ideas or want to request something, don’t hesitate! I’m here for whatever you need.

Take a bath!

#harley quinn #harley quinzel #harleen quinzel #harley quinn x poison ivy #harley quinn x reader #dc x reader #x reader #neutral reader #fluff #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #child reader #yan blog #batman #bruce wayne #catwoman #dc joker

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urdreamydoodles · 1 month ago

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Bat-Villains x Reader

They realize they love you after a nightmare about you dying

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

The Joker

- The Joker had always laughed at the idea of love. It was messy, inconvenient, and far too human for someone as “elevated” as him. So, when the nightmare came—your lifeless body crumpled beneath the rubble of some grim Gotham alley—it caught him off guard. His cackles turned to hollow echoes as he screamed your name, the vibrant color of his world bleeding into dull gray.

- He jolted awake with a gasp, his face covered in a rare sheen of sweat. His usual smirk was absent as his wild eyes darted around the room, landing on your sleeping form beside him. You were alive, breathing softly, your face peaceful in slumber. The sight of you alive was a jolt to his twisted heart.

- For the first time in a long while, he didn’t laugh. He sat there, his thoughts in chaos, a war between his denial and the crushing realization that he couldn’t imagine a world without you. It scared him more than Batman ever could. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the emotions bubbling to the surface.

- “This is ridiculous,” he muttered, his voice shaking. But his hand moved on its own, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. You stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, and he froze, a flicker of vulnerability flashing in his usually unhinged eyes.

- He stayed awake for hours, staring at you, convincing himself that this was just some fleeting weakness. But the image of your death lingered, gnawing at him, turning his denial into reluctant acceptance. “You’ve done it, haven’t you?” he whispered bitterly. “You’ve made the Clown Prince of Crime care.”

- The next morning, his usual theatrics were toned down. He stayed unusually close to you, his hand lingering on yours longer than normal. You raised an eyebrow at his behavior, and he waved it off with a manic laugh, but deep inside, he knew he’d never let you out of his sight again.

- That night, he held you a little tighter than usual, his arms wrapped around you as if to shield you from the world. “You’re mine,” he whispered into the darkness, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “And no one will take you from me. Not even death.”

Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn

- Harley’s dreams were usually chaotic, filled with explosions, bright colors, and nonsensical antics. But this one was different. It was dark, quiet, and horrifying. She saw you, broken and bleeding, calling out to her with your last breath. No amount of laughter or jokes could save you.

- She woke with a start, her heart pounding and tears streaming down her cheeks. “Puddin’?!” she gasped instinctively, but then her eyes landed on you. You were there, next to her, your chest rising and falling steadily. Relief washed over her, and she let out a shaky laugh.

- Harley wasn’t one to dwell on emotions—she usually masked them with jokes and a bubbly exterior. But this dream? It shook her to her core. She sat up, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch your face, as if reassuring herself you were real.

- “What’s goin’ on with me?” she whispered to herself. She knew the answer deep down but wasn’t ready to admit it. The thought of losing you had torn her apart in the dream, and the intensity of her feelings scared her.

- For the rest of the night, she stayed awake, her mind racing. She replayed every moment with you, every smile, every laugh, and every time you’d stood by her side. “Guess I’m hooked,” she murmured with a small, bittersweet smile.

- The next day, she was more clingy than usual, following you around and cracking even more jokes than normal. You noticed her odd behavior, but she brushed it off with a wink and a kiss on the cheek. “Just feelin’ extra lovey-dovey today, sugar!”

- That night, as you lay in her arms, she finally whispered the words she’d been too scared to say aloud. “I love ya, ya know? Like… the real kinda love, not the crazy kinda love. Well, maybe a lil’ crazy, but still real.” She kissed your forehead, her heart lighter than it had been in years.

Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy

- Pamela’s dreams were rarely nightmares. But this one? It was a haunting vision of you lying lifeless among her beloved plants, your blood staining the green foliage. The image was so vivid, so horrifying, that it shattered her usual composure.

- She woke with a sharp inhale, her breath catching in her throat. Her eyes darted to your side of the bed, relief flooding her as she saw you curled up peacefully. The nightmare lingered, though, its dark tendrils wrapping around her thoughts.

- Ivy wasn’t one to let emotions control her. She prided herself on being logical, detached. But this dream forced her to confront the truth she’d been avoiding. She cared for you—deeply, irrevocably—and the thought of losing you was unbearable.

- She reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of your cheek. Her touch was soft, almost reverent, as if she feared you might disappear if she pressed too hard. “You’ve rooted yourself in my life, haven’t you?” she whispered.

- For hours, she stayed by your side, watching you sleep, her mind racing with plans to ensure your safety. She’d protect you, no matter the cost. “No one will harm you,” she vowed quietly. “Not while I still breathe.”

- The next day, her demeanor was gentler than usual. She handed you a cup of tea, her green eyes soft as they met yours. “Drink this,” she said. “It’ll keep you healthy. And stay close to me today, alright?” Her protective side was in full bloom.

- That night, as you lay in her arms, surrounded by the soft glow of her plants, she finally let herself be vulnerable. “You’re the one thing I can’t afford to lose,” she admitted. “I’ve spent my life fighting for the earth, but you? You’ve become my world.”

Bane

- Bane’s dreams were typically filled with battles and conquests, but this one was different. He saw you, broken and defeated, your life slipping away because he hadn’t been strong enough to protect you. The sight of your lifeless form was a blow worse than any he’d taken in the ring.

- He woke with a start, his chest heaving as if he’d run a marathon. His eyes immediately sought you out, relief washing over him when he saw you safe and sound, curled up beside him. But the dream lingered, the pain and helplessness gnawing at him.

- Bane wasn’t used to feeling weak, but that nightmare had shaken him. He sat up, his massive frame tense as he stared down at you. “You are my strength,” he murmured, the words foreign on his tongue but no less true.

- For hours, he sat there, replaying the nightmare in his mind. He realized then just how much you meant to him, how deeply you’d carved yourself into his life. “I cannot lose you,” he vowed, his voice low and resolute.

- The next morning, his protective instincts were in overdrive. He insisted on accompanying you everywhere, his large hand resting possessively on your shoulder. When you questioned his sudden behavior, he simply replied, “You are important to me. That is reason enough.”

- That night, as you lay in his arms, he finally let his walls down. “I have fought many battles,” he said quietly. “But the thought of losing you? That is a battle I cannot win.” His voice was thick with emotion, his vulnerability laid bare for you to see.

- Bane’s love was fierce and unwavering, and from that moment on, he made it his mission to keep you safe. “You are my heart,” he admitted softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I will protect you with every ounce of strength I possess.”

Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow

- Jonathan’s dreams were often macabre reflections of his own fears twisted into nightmarish landscapes. But this time, it wasn’t about him. The nightmare was about you—your lifeless body crumpled in a dark alley, surrounded by shadows, your voice calling his name in desperation before falling silent forever.

- He woke abruptly, his breath shallow and ragged, the echo of your scream still ringing in his ears. For a moment, he sat frozen, his hands trembling slightly. Then his eyes darted to the bed, where you lay peacefully, your chest rising and falling in soft rhythm.

- Jonathan wasn’t one to embrace vulnerability, yet this dream left him shaken. He stared at you, his mind racing with an uncomfortable realization: he cared for you far more than he’d ever allowed himself to admit. Losing you, even in a nightmare, felt like losing a part of himself.

- He leaned closer, his hand hovering over your cheek but not quite touching, as if afraid to disturb the calm you radiated. “You’re more dangerous than fear itself,” he murmured quietly, his voice tinged with a rare warmth. “Because you’ve made me weak.”

- The following day, Jonathan was quieter than usual, his sharp words softened when directed at you. He lingered in your presence, finding excuses to stay close, though he masked his concern with his usual intellectual aloofness.

- That night, as you stirred beside him, Jonathan finally let his guard down. “You don’t realize it, do you?” he whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You’ve made me care… and that terrifies me.” His fingers brushed against yours, a silent vow to keep you safe.

- From that moment on, he became even more meticulous in his plans, ensuring no one could ever harm you. Jonathan Crane, the master of fear, had found something he feared more than anything: a world without you in it.

Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face

- Harvey’s nightmares were like a coin flip—sometimes they reflected his inner turmoil, other times they felt like cruel twists of fate. This time, it was the latter. He saw you, the one person who made him feel whole, bleeding out in his arms as he screamed for help that never came.

- He jolted awake, his hands clutching the sheets tightly as he gasped for air. His scarred side twitched involuntarily, but his eyes sought you immediately. Relief washed over him as he saw you sleeping soundly beside him, completely unaware of his inner torment.

- Harvey sat up, running a hand down his face. The nightmare had been too vivid, too real. He couldn’t shake the image of your lifeless body, the way your eyes had stared at him, full of trust even as the light faded from them.

- “You’re my anchor,” he whispered, his dual voice cracking slightly. “You make me believe there’s still something good in me.” The thought of losing you wasn’t just painful; it felt like losing the last shred of humanity he had left.

- The next day, Harvey was unusually protective, his coin flipping idly between his fingers as he shadowed your every move. When you teased him about being overly cautious, he brushed it off with a half-smile. “Can’t be too careful,” he muttered, though his eyes betrayed his deeper worry.

- That night, as you curled up beside him, Harvey wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You’re the one thing in my life that doesn’t need a coin flip,” he admitted softly. “I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

- From then on, his duality softened slightly when it came to you. Both sides of Harvey Dent—man and monster—agreed on one thing: you were worth everything. And he wouldn’t let anyone take you from him.

Edward Nygma aka. The Riddler

- Edward’s nightmares weren’t random; they were puzzles of his subconscious, riddled with hidden meanings and twisted scenarios. But this time, the riddle was cruelly simple: you were dead, taken from him in a moment of chaos he couldn’t control or predict. The answer to the nightmare was devastatingly clear—he couldn’t solve it.

- He woke in a cold sweat, his mind racing as if trying to piece together clues to prove the dream wasn’t real. When his eyes landed on you, still peacefully asleep beside him, he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding his system.

- For once, Edward was at a loss for words. The nightmare had shaken him in a way few things could. He prided himself on his intellect, his ability to plan for every contingency, yet the thought of losing you felt like an unsolvable equation.

- “You’ve become my greatest mystery,” he murmured, brushing a hand through his hair as he watched you sleep. “How did you manage to make me feel this way?” His voice was tinged with frustration, but beneath it was an undeniable warmth.

- The next day, Edward was more attentive than usual, his riddles and taunts aimed at others rather than you. He stuck close, his sharp eyes scanning for any potential threat, though he masked his concern behind his usual arrogance.

- That night, as you curled up against him, Edward allowed himself a moment of vulnerability. “You’re the only thing in my life that doesn’t need a riddle to explain,” he admitted softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin. “And I’ll make sure no one ever takes you from me.”

- From that point on, Edward’s plans always included you at the center, his mind working tirelessly to ensure your safety. For a man obsessed with answers, you had become the only certainty in his life.

Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin

- Oswald’s nightmares were usually filled with power struggles and betrayal, but this one was personal. He saw you, his constant companion and solace, gunned down in a rival’s crossfire. The sight of your blood pooling beneath you was enough to send a chill through even his cold heart.

- He woke with a start, his usual composure shattered as he sat up, his breath heavy. His sharp eyes immediately sought you out, relief flooding him as he saw you beside him, alive and unharmed. But the nightmare had left its mark.

- Oswald prided himself on his control, yet the dream had revealed a vulnerability he couldn’t ignore. He sat in silence, his mind replaying the nightmare over and over, each iteration driving home just how much you meant to him.

- “You’re more valuable than all the riches in Gotham,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours, the gesture unusually tender for a man like him.

- The following day, Oswald’s protective instincts were in overdrive. He doubled your security, barking orders at his henchmen to ensure your safety. When you questioned his sudden behavior, he simply replied, “You’re too important to risk.”

- That night, as you rested your head on his shoulder, Oswald finally let his walls down. “You’ve done the impossible,” he admitted quietly. “You’ve made the Penguin care about something other than power. And I won’t let anyone take that away from me.”

- From then on, his love for you was evident in every action. For a man who thrived in Gotham’s cold, dark underworld, you were his one source of light—and he’d do whatever it took to keep you safe.

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honey-flustered · 2 months ago

Text

Kinktober Day 12: Coulrophilia + DDLG

Joker!Ghoul-ish!Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Harley Quinn!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, dark!cooper & dark!reader, tame ddlg, coulrophilia (attraction to clowns), Freaky crazy clowns, toxic af relationship, age gap, yandere x yandere, 60s Gotham-like AU, Reader was Cooper’s TV Daughter, Cooper has a joker-like backstory, joker and harley references. Reader has Harley Quinn-like backstory, violence, blood kink, fingering, squirting, kissing, lots of pet names (sugar, princess, sweetheart, etc.), they are very bad people, curvy/short!reader

Summary: You are the partner in crime of a dangerous man known as “The Ghoul”; a half-monstrous, half-human clown prince of crime. He also happens to be your “Daddy” too.

A/N: I’m keeping up with the ghoul-ish theme for Cooper for kinktober to go with idea I have of him where he kinda looks like dabi from bnha where like he’s half-radiation burned and other half- human. Hope yall see the vision cause I’ve thought about how cool that would be for a while.

Cooper was once a good man. A simple family man. In fact, he was on the screens of every family in America—regarded as one of the greatest movie stars of all time.

But then…he had a bad day and all it takes is one bad day to bring the most sanest man alive to the brink of insanity. Just one fateful decision that would eventually lead to one long comically bad day.

Picture this: Cooper is at the point in which he’s tired of being lied to and kept in the dark from his wife’s work with Vault-Tec. Unable to keep away, He sneaks into the private and heavily secured facility, gathering damning intel along with the sinister truth. In a slip-up during a security round of a particular unit, Cooper found himself trapped in and ended up falling into a vat of chems that injured him beyond recognition.

He was sure to die. He thought he would. But when he woke up in the hospital not only did this confirm otherwise but it also confirmed that he’d been caught. And from there a series of losses began in just the spiral of a day. His wife was leaving him, taking their only daughter, his last credited role was from a now canceled TV series; and he’d even lost his dazzling looks.

He was now a ghost of himself. A ghoul. Parts of his human form were overshadowed by the singed flesh that encased large parts of him. Like a Frankenstein’s monster of sorts.

He’d tried being a good man. A simple family man. But look where that path has led him. This world wasn’t built for men like him. And so he gave in to the dark parts of himself.

It’s funny how the world knows just who to send into your life to completely flip it upside down because you thought you’d never see Cooper again. In a way, you could say that you were right. Because sitting right across from you—that isn’t the wholesome TV Dad you’ve had the pleasure to work with…oh no, he is ‘The Ghoul’.

There he is before you; red stained lips painted into a wicked smile, green-dyed hair slicked back in a suave style, smoking a cigar and looking like the mafia boss that he is despite wearing the all white clothing associated with the asylum. The bottom half of his face from his bottom lip and jaw down to neck and shoulders are web-like flesh stapled together like he’d been built up like a puzzle. Somehow, he’s still so very handsome.

“Look ‘atcha,” He smirks, ogling you up and down. “My, my…you’ve grown. Even got yourself that psychology degree you’ve been tellin’ me you wan’ed to go back to school for. Proud of ya, kid.”

“Thank you, Mr. Howard,” You say before adjusting your glasses and leaning forward. “I was rather intrigued when I heard that I’d get to meet the new you. Colleagues told me it’d be a bad idea taking you as my patient considering how much I’ve once looked up to you.“

He chuckles. “Ya know, the universe can be quite the prankster. You remember that lil’ joke I made about bein’ a patient of yours someday…” The chains from the metal cuffs around his wrists rattle when gestures to himself. “I reckon I shoulda specify what kind of patient I’d be.“

“It’s a shame we have to meet under these circumstances. But I’m glad we’ve crossed paths.” You say.

“Oh?” He asks, leaning in as well. “Why’s that, sugar?”

“Because I want to help you.” You simply say.

“I already know I’m fuckin’ crazy, sweetheart. I don’t need a shrink to talk my ear off ‘bout it.”

“No, Mr. Ghoul, I want to help you…burn Vault-Tec to the fucking ground,” You clarify. “And when there’s nothing left, I want to dance on its ashes. I want to reveal the evil truth to the people and start a fucking revolution. I want chaos. Anarchy. And I want…I want to be with you.”

You slip your fingers into one of your thigh-high stockings and pull out a key you retrieved from an unsuspecting prison guard. Cooper watches on as you remove his cuffs with a pleased yet astonished expression. You tenderly rub the indented marks on his wrist. “I’ve always loved you. Even before we’d ever met—I was your biggest fan.”

He stands with an aura of intimidation and raw assertion, an intense gaze in his eyes as he saunters closer to you. You quickly rise to your feet, anticipating his embrace.

Cooper’s large hands shoot up around your neck, squeezing. Not hard enough to cut off any air circulation but just enough to drag your body against his.

He plants a messy kiss onto your lips. There’s teeth nipping at the soft, plush of your lips and his thick tongue lick the surface and the inside of your mouth. It’s so sloppy and purposefully so and you don’t care how freaky it is.

You are sure by now that his white face paint and the crimson shade of his lips have now transferred to your lips. Or could it be blood from the little nick he’d given you on your lips. You aren’t sure but it only added on to your arousal.

He pulls away, blood staining lips and just beneath his nose. “Well, I’m sure glad you chose to come home to daddy because if you weren’t by my side—why I’d just have to kill ya,” He laughs, removing a hand from your neck to cradle the back of your head. “Thatta girl. Now let’s get outta this shithole.”

“I know a secret exit we can—”

“Sorry, sugar, but I’d rather leave with a bang,” He winks suggestively, taking you by the arms to face you away from him and bend you over the table; the side of your face is pressed against the cold metal. You feel his erection weighing hot and heavy against your ass as he lays himself over you for a moment, lips against your ears to growl a command. “Don’t hold back yer screams for me, princess. Let ‘em all hear what I’m doin’ to ya.”

Just as you feel your lace panties being pulled to the side, four guards come barging into the room and shout for his compliance.

“Get the fuck off of her.” One guard shouts, laying a heavy hand on the Ghoul’s shoulder. Ghoul’s military training comes into play as he uses the very key that set him free to repeatedly jab into the accessible and vulnerable armpit of the guard.

He cries out in pain nursing the wound that now bleeds profusely and too distracted by this he fails to protect his gun, allowing Cooper to lift it from his belt and shoot into the shoulder of another guard who’d drawn his gun at him. In a shocking twist, you witness one prison guard turn on his last fellow guard, shooting him right in the knees.

“What about the girl?” The traitor prison guard questions, pointing a weapon against your head as you remain trembling against the table. You’ve never seen anything like this!

The ghoul steals a handkerchief from a prison guard who’d been struggling to reach his radio strewn across the room. Cooper nonchalantly wipes away the excess blood on his hands before picking up his cuban cigar from the ashtray. You awaited in nervous anticipation as he decided to take a draw from it instead of answering him, bellowing out the smoke in your direction and clouding your view of him for a few seconds.

His hard gaze begins to soften, charming you with his famous smile. “She’s just dandy to me.”

He holds a hand out to you and you squeal with glee, standing up on wobbly knees to jump into his arms.

“Come on, sugar. We’ve got some catchin’ up to do,” He holds you tight against him before indiscreetly whispering to his minion. “Finish the job, will ya? But do it only after we leave the room. Wouldn’t want to traumatize my princess ‘less it’s done by my hand.”

“You got it, boss.” The minion says. And withthat the Ghoul carries you over the threshold of what was once your own prison in a metaphorical sense.

The Ghoul makes do with his promise and causes a huge debacle within the asylum. By the time you’d both leave the building, it was like a circus. There were patients everywhere running amuck with doctors and nurses failing to control them, alarms going off, and you think there might have even been a fire started. It was perfect.

Outside a limo awaits the two of you, it looks like he’d been planning his escape all along. Whether that included you, you didn’t care. He may not be the same Cooper you fell for, the one whom you once saw as a father figure—Hell, he’s batshit fucking insane but somehow it makes your heart beat a mile a minute and the attraction only triples but his new appearance.

You pull him for yet another kiss, flames in the background are like fireworks. You could get lost in it if it weren’t for the damn police and fire truck sirens going off.

“Looks like that’s our cue to scram.” He opens the door for you which is interesting that he can still be so chivalrous. You smile just like the princess he names you to be and you enter and never look back.

Now you are a part of that darkness, feeding each other’s wickedness. The two of you have shed your clothes and in turn shed those identities. No longer did he don the all white clothing of an asylum patient. When he looks into the mirror —past the charred half of his flesh- he sees that of a crime-lord with weapons hung close to his body as if it were an accessory to his pin-striped suits. And you’d shed your past life, burning your white lab coat. You were now his and he, yours. And of course as a daddy’s girl, you’d do anything to mirror his image, adapting his twisted clown aesthetic.

Newspapers had a field-day writing about your descent to madness from America’s sweetheart to the other-half of a crazy crime duo. They call it a match made in hell, you call it the greatest love story ever.

But sometimes it does get exhausting when you want to spend time with your lover when there’s so many factors that prevents you from spending time with him! Vault-Tec, Vigilantes, Betrayers, and Barb! Just thinking about her makes you angry.

Why can’t they all just let you enjoy your chaotic lives in peace?!

Currently, The Ghoul is handling a business transaction with an informant from Vault-Tec who made claims of a nuclear war in the making with a plan to make the middle class pay for it. You’re more than happy to set your plan in motion to create a threatening video message to the company using the informant as a hostage, hoping you’ll finally get some time with Coop but he wants to take things slow.

“It’s chess not checkers, darlin’.” He’d comment and you’d just have to accept it. But today was meant to be your anniversary and he’d decided to take time out of your day to do business!

You claw your acrylics through the newspaper you’d been reading with an old picture of Cooper and Barb on the front page with a headline about their once fiery romance. That was the last straw.

Your sharp cat-like acrylics claw into the flimsy newspaper material you held in your hands, poking through the page from back to front and straight through the eyes of your lover and his ex-wife. The headline of their past fiery romance pushes you over the edge.

You shred the paper into bits, flinging it into the air like confetti. The tears are blinding, mascara running down your cheeks as you rise to your feet and go over to retrieve something from his ‘secret’ drawer from his office.

In the highest heels you own, you’re strutting angrily and briskly up the long-winded stairs and through the spacious halls of his large penthouse. His staff know better than to get in your way, jumping out of your path with terrified looks the moment they lay eyes on you.

You may be a curvier girl but you were a lot shorter in height than most people you knew. And most people you knew usually wouldn’t be intimidated by such a woman of your stature, not of course, if said woman happened to be wielding a .45 caliber pistol in hand.

If hell hath no fury than a woman scorned then it is in everyone’s best interest to mind their goddamn business.

You see red. Tunnel vision. Nothing else existed in this moment other than the man you hope to kill.

“Cooper!” You shout, pounding hard against the double ivory doors of his conference room before throwing them open.

The audience in the room turns their heads in your direction, expressions of confusion morphing into horror. You could hear the faint murmurs of his patrons murmuring about knowing you from TV.

The Ghoul is the last to raise his eyes at you, expelling air from his nostrils in frustration. He’s yet to speak up, watching the scene unfold from his big boss chair.

“Ya’ll better skedaddle or little blue’s gonna sing,” You threaten causing the crowd to quickly flee, some clutching their grand-theft stolen pearls as they do so. Once you're satisfied with the emptied room, you close the doors behind you and lock them for safe measures. You raise the gun at him, hands shaking. “You still love her, don’t you? The day you decided to leave the facility…to take me as yours…that was on your anniversary date, wasn’t it? I thought this day was special for us. But you used me. You just want her attention.”

He’s neither terrified nor angry. He just seems…inconvenienced. Bored with it all, he rolls his eyes as he begins fixing up his paperwork. “Couldn’t this have waited until after my meeting? I’ve got a job to do. I don’t need any of your distractions.”

“You think I’m a distraction,” You squeak, hurt by his suggestion. A rage consumes you so violently that you think of the first thing that'll quench your fire. In one fell swoop, you swipe your arm on the table and throw his paperwork and office supplies onto the ground scattering them everywhere. Now he’s furious, jaw clenching as he stares daggers at you. You can tell he’s deciding a punishment for you. “You said we belonged together! We were supposed to forge the world side by side. How could you say that I’m just a distraction?”

“I said, ‘your distractions’. As in, all the bullshit you do on a daily basis. Now be quiet.” He hisses through gritted teeth.

“No.” You stand your ground, adjusting your posture so that you appear even taller than you already are in your heels. You know he hates it when people tower over him.

He slams his hands on the table before rising to his feet slowly. He makes it a point to stand as close to you as possible so that he’s the one towering over you now. “You’re being a fucking brat.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” You snarl. “Maybe…I should find her, hmm? I should find her and kill her. I’ll do it. You think I wouldn’t?”

“Sweet pea, I know you would and I don’t care if you do,” He laughs, cupping your face in his large hands. “She took my Janey from me. I ain’t seen her in years. Barb is my lightning rod, all my aggression is accredited to her. If she were gone, sure it’d make things really boring for me but that’s just it. And as for you, princess, well…yer a pretty young thing—real cute—but I’m one making the commands here.”

“But we’ve done so much together. We made them lose profits. We pushed forward a smear campaign for one of the senior executives that made him disappear off the grid. That was a team effort!”

“And I appreciate your support, lil’ angel. You really do make yo papa proud,” His thumb traces your lips before he roughly grips your jaw, making you look him in the eye. His rings bite into the skin of your cheeks. “Now why don’t you give me a pretty smile? If yer good for it, I might let you sit on my lap.”

You yank away from his grasp, cocking the gun. “I’ll fucking kill you. I thought when you came into my life to silence my demons. But you’ve only danced with them. I’m so screwed up in the head because I loved you. But if you die, I’ll be free.”

For a moment, he looks genuinely scared but then he gives you a wicked smirk.

“You wouldn’t. You could never kill me. How do you think you’ll be able to go on livin’ after it’s done? The second I’m gone, you wouldn’t last not even a millisecond without me,” He steps forward, closing the gap between you once again. “That’s how pathetic you are. You need somethin’ in your life to cling on and that’s me. I’m your lifeline. Whether you like it or not, your heart knows you're bound to me. A year of fleetin’ kisses and light touches; I’ve not fucked you once and still yer this weak for me. I could only imagine how obedient you’ll be when I pop your precious cherry.”

“Fuck you,” Hot tears and mucus continue to run down your face as you unrelentingly held the pistol up to his chest. “Fuck you, Cooper. Maybe I won’t live long after I kill you, but I’ll be seeing you in hell.”

You pull the trigger only instead of a lead bullet, a foam-like bullet with a suction end sticks to his chest. It appears to be a strange child’s toy. You examine it with confusion before looking up at his fuming expression.

You begin to laugh nervously, dropping the toy on the ground to give a quirky shrug of your shoulders. “Oopsies.”

“I didn’t think I’d hide actual guns anywhere near the likes you, did you?” He sneers. “You fucking shot me.”

“But you didn’t die.”

“Anything you’ve got to say for yourself?”

You swallow the hard lump in your throat. “S-sorry…daddy.”

He raises his hand and you flinch, fearing that this’ll be the day he finally raises a hand on you. Instead, he places it on your head, petting it softly.

“My good girl,” He praises, much to your confusion. “What am I going to do with you?”

Your eyes sparkle with love and admiration, throwing yourself into his arms. “You still love me?”

“Of course, I still love you,” He coos, soothing a hand down your back that’s exposed by the style of your mini blue satin dress. “I’ve never had a woman love me this intensely. You almost killed me, woman. That makes me so hard.”

He guides your dainty hand over his hardening clothed cock. “Do you feel that, sugar?” He rasps. “You’ve done this to me simply for being crazy as shit. No woman’s ever made me feel this way, not even Barb..”

“Y-you mean that, daddy-o?”

“From the bottom of my heart,” He brushes his nose against yours. “Do you see how passionately in love we are for each other? You never have to question my devotion for you even if Barb’s around, no one could replace you. There’s just so many things you do that she could never do as good as you.”

“Like what?” You blink up innocently.

“You always know just the right thing to make me feel good.” He hints, sitting back on his executive chair with his legs spread.

You sink to your knees, sitting in between his legs. Cooper loves oral sex, both giving and receiving. He’s been so busy with work that rarely had time for either but you’ll gladly keep giving it up whenever you can. And maybe eventually, he’ll officially claim you in bed.

Your hands reach for his zipper when he halts your movements. He stares intensely into your eyes while wrapping one pigtail around his scarred hand. “You don’t deserve to taste me. You’ve maxed out your strikes for the day,” He begins to recount. “Strike one, you interrupted my meeting. Strike two, you were a rude pest. Strike three, you tried to kill me. For these reasons, I want you to sit beside me like a good little girl for the rest of my meeting. I shall have a punishment ready for you by then.”

“But—“

“Silence,” He tugs hard, forcing you to rise slightly. “I don’t want to hear a word out of you. I want you as silent as the ground I walk on. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You whine.

He places a kiss on your forehead before releasing you. With a push of a button, he makes an announcement on the intercom for his staff to lead his patrons back into the conference room.

“Remember, my dove: not a peep out of you.” He orders.

You watch on the rest of the meeting with awe, head in your hands as you dreamily sigh up at him as plotted away. After sometime, the members of his team exit the room after the Ghoul approves their dismissal.

Alone again at last, you hop into his lap, making the two of you spin in his upholstered chair. He humors you, forehead against yours and a reserved smile on his face.

“You were so amazing, daddy-o! I bet they’ll never think to underestimate you again. The plan is just diabolical!” You exclaim. “How are you real?”

“I ask myself this at times.” He replies smugly, rubbing circles in your back. If you continued to praise him like this, he just might disregard punishing you.

“I know I’ve been a bad girl and I don’t deserve it but may I please kiss you?” You ask, playing with his tie.

“You may.” He approves.

You squeal giddily before planting your lips onto his with a hungry desire that has you both moaning into the kiss. Your hands find comfort in his hair, ruining its assembly. Most days, Cooper would curse you for this but today he’s in such good spirits because everything is going his way. He slips his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

The telephone rings and he breaks away with a groan reaching for it on the table while his other hand continues to trace his fingers lightly up and down your back. While he’s occupied in conversation, you kiss all over his neck, leaving lipstick kisses behind.

“Excellent, I’ll be sure to watch.” He says with a smile.

“Daddy-o’?” You question.

He simply takes a remote off his desk and presses a button that mechanically parts the large velvet curtains to the side, revealing the big clear window behind it. Different colors burst into the sky of reds, greens, blues and yellow and you recognize them as actual fireworks.

You stand from his lap, walking over to the large window to gaze in at its glory. He’d successfully executed a plan you’d been telling him about for months; setting off an explosion at one of the milk factories that an ex owned. A factory far in the distance that you could see from the penthouse’s height, cursing it every day because it ruined your view of the city. And now Cooper has taken it out…for you. God, you love this man.

“Happy Anniversary, princess.” He says from behind, kissing you on your neck.

“This is the best thing anyone’s ever done for me,”Your eyes sparkle in the light, clapping and laughing with pure glee at the spectacle. “Oh, I could only imagine how funny it would have been to see the look on his face.”

Cooper presses another button and sure enough your ex is on the news, having a fit about it while you and Cooper laughed as if it were the funniest thing on earth.

Swept up by the moment, you kissed him passionately, messing up his makeup and your own as blended into an odd mix of colors.

His thick fingers find their way between your legs, moving past your damp panties to plunge into your hot, wet core. You gasp against his lips, nails sinking into his dress shirt for support as you grind down on them.

“I love you, Daddy.” You cry out happily, breathing quicken with the pumping of his fingers. If it weren’t for your back against the window, your buckling knees would have taken you down.

“I love you, too, sugar. You’re so good for me.” He praises, thrusting so particularly deep into you that your eyes cross and you gush your honeyed slick into his palm. “Always been daddy’s little monster.”

That name is enough to tip you over the edge, tightening your hand around his wrist when your orgasm finally hits you like a freight train. You whine and tremble when he continues his ministrations inside of you curling is finger perfectly while his meaty palm added friction to your throbbing clit. You’re sobbing at the overstimulation, soaking his hand, down your legs and his pants. He laughs at your catatonic state; the babbling and drool down your chin makes you look about as mad as an asylum patient. The aftershocks flow through you like a tidal wave as you shake against his hard body.

He’s only merciful to stop when you begin to clamp his hand between your thighs to keep him from moving any further.

When you come down, you give him a dopey smile and say, “Boy, seeing a building blow up like that makes me want to ‘blow’ something else?”

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