#the riddler/reader

[gilverrwrites]

Dumping some stagnant WIPs that I’d love to revive in the hopes that some feedback/interaction might reignite my fire for them. Or at least show them the light of day they might never see otherwise.

Ft. (in order) PT!Dick Grayson, Nightwing, The Riddler, Two-Face, Harvey Bullock, Leatherface, and Jason Voorhees.

Colour co-ordinated for ease of navigation. Some of these are really short and sweet, some are whole-ass first chapters to potential series. Comments appreciated!

Untitled, PT!Dick Grayson/civilian reader, undecided

Nobody ever showed to the 2PM class. He’d meant to take it off the schedule since he spent most of them unofficially working on Nightwing business. Then you started showing up.

The first time he’d been in the back, hunched over his computer in nothing but his boots and boxers.

“Hello?” Your melodic voice chimed through the building, and he scrambled to find work out appropriate clothes, hopping his way to the front of house as he tied the laces of his sneakers. “Anyone here?”

As he pushed through the doors, he was mentally juggling how to get rid of you. It would be scammy of him to under or over work you in an attempt to put you off of coming back. Maybe he’d just tell you the class of cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances? But then he saw you.

Blue Bird: Missing, Nightwing/villain reader, multi chapter slow burn

Nightwing had been a part of your life, at least your life of crime, for as long as you could remember. Since you were teens fighting on opposite sides of the law. While he wasn’t your target tonight, he was in the way. He hadn’t been responsible for you latest stint at Blackgate.

It didn’t take a detective to know that the saftest course of action would be to lay low, to hide out until his patrolling took him a safe enough distance away for you to act without his alerting him. The smart part of you knew this, the petty part of you didn’t care.

“Stay still, I promise I wont look.” You instruct, closing your eyes as you paw at his mask until it comes off into your hands. His comms needed to be shut down, ensuring none of his bat or bird friends could come to his rescue and interfere with your plans.

With caution, you turn your back to him and begin to play with the tiny buttons and notches until you’re satisfied that you’ve turned it off. Shutting down his comms. You’re expecting a witty retort, something flirty about you missing out on his good looks, but nothing comes, and you don’t have time to wait.

“See, I kept my promise.” You continue as you turn back to him, eyes shut once more as you secure the mask back to the space over his eyes. When you look at him again, you find yourself struck with more curiosity than expected. You wouldn’t break the unspoken rule, you’d keep to your promise, but being so close to exposing him really has you wondering how he looks uncovered. What colour his eyes are. Blue, dark blue, you bet. He’d be cheesy enough to match his suit to his eyes.

“So, what’s your end game here, sweetheart?” He looks up at you expectantly, smirking in a way that’s far to smug for his position.

“Why? You gonna talk me down? I already told you, power bottom…” A gust of cold wind blows against you, pushing a piece of dark hair against his face and you brush it back, savouring its softness without even thinking. When you realise what you’re doing you tighten your grip and tug his head back against the post, saving face. At least you would be saving face if he didn’t let out an inexplicably lewd moan that made you suck in an audible breath. Theres an awkward pause between you both before you distract by continuing your answer to his question “This isn’t about you, you just got caught in the crosshairs.”

“Crosshairs of what battle?” He asks, and maybe he’s entitled to know, given that he’ll be sat on his ass, and undeniably inconvenienced by all this, but he’d put you in the same situation many times. Yes, his motivations were far more just than yours, but that meant nothing to you.

“It’s need to know bird boy.” You poke his nose, before finally stepping back, reassessing your surroundings, noting your next step before leaving him with a wave and a final shout; “And you don’t need to know.”

That should have been that last time you’d seen him, for that night anyway. But when you’d reached Nygma’s hideout, it was empty. It didn’t make sense. Your sources were reliable, you’d staked it out the night before. He’s been there, his henchmen had been there, boxes full of stupid trophies and half-built robots had been there, and now they were gone. The old mill factory was wiped clean, you were fuming. You’d called your informant to no avail. Reached out to some old contacts, who couldn’t help you. Tracked across the city, checking out his other known safehouses, all of which empty.

Now, just over two hours later you were climbing your way back up to the top the Gotham Bank. Nightwing would probably be gone by now. His radio silence alerting one of his birdbuddies that he’s need a save, and there’d almost certainly be a tracker in his suit. You were just checking in on him. Not because you care. Just because, if he was still where you’d left him, maybe you could set him free and cool him off. He couldn’t, and wouldn’t help with your predicament, but tracking down The Riddler would be a whole lot easier without Nightwing on the war path to put you back behind bars.

Per your suspicions, when you reach the roof, it’s empty. It’s not safe to linger, to return to the crime scene for too long, so you ready yourself to take off again. It’s when you’re stepping onto the ledge that you spot it. Something shiny and green, glinting in the corner of your eye. Upon closer inspection you release it’s a coin, made of some kind of green bottle, with a question mark engraved onto it, sitting right where Nightwing had been just a few hours earlier, and above it, a note, duct tape to the pole which read:

Blue Bird: Missing Want it back? Bring your coins, To the racetrack.

Well fuck.  

Patterns, The Riddler/henchman reader, Multi chapter successor to Stockholm Syndrome

Eat, sleep, repeat. Lather, rinse, repeat. You’d be tracking target number 1 for 9 days, and besides a lonely weekend filled with racking up credit card debt at T.J.Maxx, and failed attempts at home cooking, it had been the SAME THING, every, single, day.

Pursing your lips, you lean back against the driver’s seat and let out a long sigh. You glance back up at the targets window before checking the time again. 10:01PM

You tap your fingers against the wheel before pulling out your phone. Ed is notoriously bad at picking up, (also notoriously bitter, if you don’t answer on the first ring) but you didn’t want to call it a night without checking in with him. He's your boss after all.

Dialling his current burner number and hitting loudspeaker, you sink down in your seat, studiying the cars roof as you wait for it to ring out.

“Hello?” You shoot back up. Startled by his answering on the 4th ring. Guess there’s a first time for anything.

“Oh…. Ed, hey, hi.” You stammer, trying to find your bearings again. “Um, so, riddle for you?”

“A riddle for me?” He scoffs, amused. maybe you're delusional but there seems to be a warmth in his tone. “This should be good.”

“Yeah, um, so…. If you're a child, you know me well, and when you're old I'll be your hell. I'm often felt but rarely shown. I'll drive you mad if you're alone.”

“Is the target sleeping now?”

“You didn’t answer the riddle!”

“Because it was an insult.” He scorns you before repeating. “Is the target sleeping?”

“Yeah. She crashes at about this time most nights.” You state factually. Trying not to let his sharpness get to you.

“Well….” He seems to hesitate. You hear what sounds like the click of this tongue, something rustling on his line. “If you’re bored, come see me.”

“At this time of night?” You begin to tease. “Ed, what will people think?”

Your joking might have been more convincing if it wasn’t punctuated by the sound of your engine starting before you proceed to speed down the road.

“I think a better question might be, ‘what are you thinking’?”

It wasn’t fair that you had started this line of conversation, but he was the one making you flushed. Especially since he wasn’t even there. In his presence you can blame it on his proximity, his scene, the intensity of his gaze when he’s focused solely on you for once, but he wasn’t here, and you had nothing to blame but your big fat crush on him. The silver lining at least was that he couldn’t see what he had done to you.

“I’m thinking….” You hesitated, unsure how to get him back. “I’m thinking, I’ll be there in 10.”

You hang up. He's sure to chew you out for that later, but it was worth it. You could just picture the tantrum he was having right now, leg stamping, and arms crossed. Probably muttering to himself, coming up with a sly comeback for then you arrived.

You’d been working for The Riddler for 6 and a half months now, and while he knew exactly how to use your infatuation with him to keep your moral compass spinning, you were slowly learning how to push his buttons right back.

Later

15 minutes later you lean against his desk, watching intently as he scans through your notes.

You watch greedily as his blue eyes bore into each word, deft fingers flipping through the pages, watch the way he stuck out his soft lower lip, still pouting at your earlier antics.

“So, what do you want with her anyway?” You try so spark a conversation.

“You’ve been monitoring her for almost two weeks.” He replies, refusing to look up at you. “Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

Your brows scrunch together as you think back, racking your brain for anything remotely remarkable about the woman you’d been tailing. She was pretty, sure, but besides that she didn’t really seem to have anything going for her. Dead end job, no real friends, no romantic prospects, just her and her cat.

Not totally unlike yourself 7 months ago.

You briefly study Ed’s fave for any form of a giveaway, but his nose remains buried in your notes. With a shrug you conceded.

“I give up. What is it?”

Almost immediately Ed’s face began to morph. The corners of his lips curving into a coy smile, his eyes sparkle as he finally looks up at you.

“It’s her blood.” He answers, finally closing your notebook and unceremoniously letting it fall onto his desk.

“Her blood?” you quiz, more confused than ever. “What? Is she like a metahuman or something?”

“Oh no.” He says, making no attempt to conceal the amusement in his voice.

His fingers brush against your own as he locks his hands around your wrist. A jolt shoots up your body, but you push it down, steadying yourself to his touch.

You watch as he flips your arm around, baring your wrist to him. Gently he runs his fingers along your veins. “It’s blue. Her blood is blue. A member of the Finnish royal family, attempting to live like common people. Do whatever common people do.”

“Right.” Your voice shakes more than you would have liked. Even the smallest of touches from him are enough to melt your brain. “And what do you want with her? Money? O-“

Your questions were silenced as Ed brings your wrist to his face. Briefly pressing it to his nose and inhaling with a satisfied smile.

“Come now, Dear.” He silences you with the soft brush of his lips against your skin. You suck in a breath, fingers digging into the wood beneath you as you watch. Your concerns were long gone as he looks up at you, his studious gaze locked onto you as he pressed another, firmer kiss inches above the last. “I already gave you my word, did I not?”

In lieu of a response, a breathy moan escape your lips. Ed is clearly pleased with your response to his affection. Standing from his chair, he continued pressing progressively fevered kisses up your arm, over the curve of your shoulder, into the crevice of your collar.

His gloved hands gently cupped the curve of your hips. His fingers traced circles against your body as they dip lower, and lower until they're hooked under your knees. He plants one deep, open-mouthed kiss against your jaw as he pries your legs apart.

“Did I not, give you my word?” He pushes, his breath brushing against your ear. The feel of his lips curving into a smug smile that tickles your skin.

Flustered, but determined not to turn into a total puddle, you stroke your hand up his spine, thread your fingers into his hair, and direct his face to yours. Heads together, noses brushing, you answer; “yes.”

“Yes?” He raises one brow at you. His hands climb back up your thighs until they’re kneading at your asscheeks before pulling you closer. Your legs lock around his waist as you feel the pressure of his tented trousers press against you centre.

“Oh, yes.” Your exclaim again, arching your back to press yourself deeper against him.

You close the gap before he can. You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened before they fluttered closed. You may have initiated but it takes no time at all for Ed to take control. Your jaw grows slack at the pressure building between you legs, and Ed wastes no time taking advantage. His tongue shamelessly diving between your lips, filling your senses with the taste of him.

As soon as it starts, the moment is over. He breaks away to the sound of his phone ringing. Eyes never leaving yours as he brings it to his ear. Trust him to start answering his phone promptly when its least convenient for your.

“Speak.” He orders. His shoulders lean back, one hand resting on his hip as he mindlessly continues grinding against you. Desperate to keep him close you reach out to him, running your fingers up his chest, incidentally untucking his shirt.

“What?!” His outburst makes you jump. Abruptly, he pulls away from you completely. “Are you a complete and utter moron? How could you let this happen?”

With him now out of reach, all you can do is sit and watch patiently. You'd hate to be on the receiving end of it, but you have to admit, Edward can be really sexy when he was angry. Lean muscles taut; jaw clenched. You’d never admit that to him though, his ego is already 3 sizes to large.

So lost in your ill-advised admiration you almost didn’t notice when he gestures to you. Gloved hands waved in you face until you nod to express your attention. He points over at the pitiful stack of junk you call a desk, huddled in the corning of his office.

Hopping off his work bench you make your way over to it, looking over at Edward for further guidance. In response he lifts two fingers. You raise the file for target number 2 and waved it at him. He nods back at you and gives you a thumbs up, before waving you to the door.

“I cannot believe this. I swear if you want a job done….”

Was he dismissing you? What could possibly be going on that he could shrug you off so indifferently?

Some people have all the luck [Part 2], Two-Face, smut CWs: Dubious consent, alcohol

The trip from the bar to wherever this is had been a blur. You vaguely remember complaining about your tired feet getting wet in the dreary Gotham weather. Two-Face laugh at you then, pulled you closer and told you; “Don’t worry about it, Doll.”

Then there had been a car, an old, classy one. The streetlights blurred by the rain on the windows. At some point he’d carried you, bridal style through somewhere old and dusty. You just remember old hanging light fixtures dangling from a high ceiling. There’s been voices, muffled snickering until Harv had barked at them, something loud and authoritative. A little bit sexy.

Now you were here, legs dangling off the edge of a desk. The wallpaper is peeling. Diplomas and newspaper clippings hang on the wall in broken, lopsided frames. Harvey is pouring something amber coloured into a tumbler, whiskey, probably, he seems like a whiskey drinker.

With the imposing thought in mind that this might be your last chance, you ask him for a drink of your own.

“Nah.” He looks smug as he approaches. He downs the two-finger pour in one, faces contorting as it slides down his throat. Then he’s standing before you, guiding your legs open, making space for him to stand between him. You’re not sure which is more unnerving, the ease in which he touches and directs your body, or your willingness to allow it. As he speaks again, you catch a whiff of his breath, definitely whiskey. “You’ve had enough, if you’re gonna pass out tonight, it’s gonna be because of us.”

He probably means torture, but the idea of him fucking you unconscious sends a wave of arousal to your already heated core.

---

Allowing you zero time to get good look at, he sinks the tip between your folds, pumping the wetness along his length before lining himself up with your entrance. You suck in a breath as he penetrates you, bottoming out with one hard thrust, stretching your walls around his noticeably thick girth. The sheer size of him pushing against every inch of your insides stings, makes you throw your head back with an aching moan.

No sooner do you look away before his grabs your face with his scarred hand, nails dig into your skin as he compels you to look into his face. He whistles, short and sweet before ordering; “Eyes on us, hon.”

His scolding has you twitching around him, having allowed you a grace period to adjust to his size.

“Yes.” You nod, not trusting your mouth to coherently say anything else.

“Good girl.”

Untitled, Harvey Bullock, fluff

If you see something, no you didn’t. That’s number one unspoken rule of Gotham.

But after witnessing what happened to the poor boy, you just couldn’t stay quiet. Now the city was punishing you by having your witness statement be taken by the hottest cop the GCPD had to offer. Sure, he was rough around edges, scruffy beard, beer belly and an Irish American accent to die for. He was definitely a drunk, that much was evident from the hint of whisky on his breath but damn if that didn’t add to his bruiser charm.

Untitled, [DBD] Leatherface, Horror & smut – partly inspired by that scene from TCM2 CWs: Mentions of gore

How long would this go on for? Until he was finished? Until he grew bored of you? And then what? He could drive his saw straight into within second, the sound of him revving its engine would serve as your only warning before he mutilated you, before he swung forward and carved your body in two. It's not as if you could just take off right now. He had you completely cornered. Not just geographically, but physically – leather face is 6'3 and jacked. A single flinch in a direction he didn't like and he could have you pinned, sawed, and quartered in second.

(Re-)Learning to swim, Jason Voorhees, Fluff CWs: Captivity, mentions of violence

Taking a deep breath, you creep deeper into the lake, submerging yourself up to your waist. The water looks so peaceful and calm. Before Jason, water had been your one true love. Swimming had given you an escape from the trials of everyday life.

Jason was the opposite, and you completely understood why. You're heart clenched at the thought of it. Even before you'd come to know and love him, you'd felt compassion for his story. Jason didn't deserve what happened to him. Blood hadn't been spilt that day but it stained the hands of the incompetent counsellor that night. Water it seemed had always been his foe. He drowned here in one life, was chained and trapped beneath its waves in another.

You understood why he avoided it. He was always vigilant of it, he had traps and weapons to take down anyone who tried swim to sail away from him without having to venture to deep, but walking beside the Lake, taking a boat out, or simply swimming in it, was never something you could get him to agree to during the small times the two of you had the area to yourselves.

So, you were going to do it alone. You were reclaiming a part of yourself, doing something just for you.

It was late May, a few weeks before police did their final searches, ticking the last few boxes before they let counsellors in to start setting up camp. You waited until Jason left to do his own rounds before slipping out into the darkness. He wouldn't have let you go if you'd told him your plan. He'd have crossed his arms and shaken his head at you. If that failed he's have held you, crushing you in his loving embrace as a way of begging you not to go, not to the Lake, to dangerous, and you would have caved. Listening to his sad hums, looking into his pleading eyes would have swayed you to stay home.

You had to wait until he left. No doubt he'd know, he seems to have some kind of connection to the camp and its goings on. He'll know where you've been and what you've been doing and he'll watch you even closer, but it needed to be done.

[yandere-wishes]

⭒ㅤׂ Do You Think We'll Be In Love Forever? ㅤׂ ⭒

⭒⌒★ Yandere!DC Men x Reader ★⌒⭒

゜。♡ 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝓊𝓇𝓃𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝑜𝒷𝓈𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃 ♡ ｡ ゜

​𓆩☾𓆪 Nightwing - Dick Grayson | بالشب - دیک گریسون

He's mesmerized by the sight of you between his arms. Definite little doll smiling up at him through tear-soaked eyes. He floods your essence with saccharine kisses, sweet vows, and anguished 'I love yous' all paying testimony to his sugar-laced obsession. He's desperate to taste your sweetness on his tongue, lick through your flesh like a lollipop, and unravel your bones with his teeth.

He had been so young once, chasing virtue and strength into every dark alleyway, following bats and hope into vicious nights. Back then, he hadn't understood his mentor's desperation for paper-thin kisses and phony love. But now feeling the push of your body beneath his fingertips makes him understand how satisfying real love can be. To observe you in the sun's gentle rays. To feel your body curled next to his on cold nights. He plays hero under the moon's watchful gaze only to return home to you upon daybreak.

❀࿔ Red Hood - Jason Todd | نقاب قرمز - جیسون تاد

He glides your fingers across his scars, shuddering under the weight of your touch. Stardust cauterizes ancient wounds, licking away the rotten grime. Jason clenches his teeth, there's something so intimidating about the softness of your touch. It stings worse than any crowbar or bullet wound, intruding, harrowing. It's almost like you're plucking the constellations of his past from under his skin, trying to rearrange the stars into something cathartic.

He can't help the hapless way his nails scratch across your bones, the gurgling laugh that escapes his throat. You're Elizabeth Lavenza and Ophelia trying to mend a broken boy, with your wry smile and terrified eyes. Jason traces his lips across yours, his kiss is ravenous, frantic. Faux-hero desperate for an inkling of love, of bliss, of softness.

´ཀ` Arkham Knight - Jason Todd | سلحشور آرکام - جیسون تاد

He likes to think he's shed his human skin long ago. Left it to die in that burning warehouse with his old mask and youth. But when he hears your laughter, that haunting echo reverberates off the edifice walls. He can't help but think maybe, just maybe a trace of humanity still lingers beneath his armor. Your smile glares at him in every carmine puddle he treks through. He dreams it's your blood marring his gauntlets, syrupy sweet as he licks them clean. Daydreams about your ethereal face painted in reds and purples by his iron-clad hands.

His kisses are razor blades cutting through your lips, forcing his love down your throat, and watching as you choke on the rust and ache. He's trying to merge two bodies into one void, to engulf you. Mirror his scars upon your flesh with dull knives and jagged fingernails. He kisses you again, you swear you're going to drown in his sea of red. Maybe that's all the love he has left. He

｡♦｡ Red Robin - Tim Drake | رابین قرمز- تیم دریک

He plays hero in the night, little bird chasing villains and evil by moonlight. When he blinks it's you he sees lying on the couch watching TV. He's starting to think you're his favorite show, afterall your window is about the size of a flat-screen TV and he's always too eager to peak through for the next screening. Episode 84, you're hugging your favorite teddy bear, lost in euphoria as your knuckles turn white around the controller. Tim watches heart in his throat as you claw out the boss's eyes. Sanctimonious champion vying to save the holy princess.

Tim bites his fingers, addresses each tooth mark to you. He pens his love letters upon his own skin, sealing them in red when he finally punctures through. Maybe life is just a video game, an endless kaleidoscope of cutscenes. And he's just a besotted hero dying to kiss the precious princess who doesn't even know he exists.

ꨄ︎ Robin - Damian Wayne| سینه‌سرخ - دامیان وین

His heritage pounds between his bones. The deja vu of an ancestral lifetime runs rapid through his veins as he chases you across the rooftops. His father, his mother, his brothers, always chasing, running after things they know they'll never reach. Your blades clash against his and Damian can't help but wonder if this is the closest he'll ever get to kissing you.

You leave him with paper cuts that feel like venom, like saying 'I love you' while chewing on his bones. He ponders, does his father have the same scars, if Damian pulled away Bruce's skin what would he find? Kittycat claws and dragon bites engraved in the nth-wielded ivory. He feels legacy clawing at his throat as he pictures your fingers between his teeth. Tears blooming in your eyes as he uses diamonds and ceremonial knives to engrave his name upon your flesh. Dotting the I with a heart and entwining each letter. God, he's so tired of being lonely...

🦇 Batman - Bruce Wayne | بتمن - بروس وین

He can't help but pick you apart, chip away at the bones and flesh until he reaches your essence. Dissecting your heart with his tongue and savoring the ichor between his teeth. He's the world's greatest detective and yet he can't unravel his own ardor. This mania, this addiction festering within his crux gnawing at his sanity until every thought is consumed by the cadence of your voice and the stars scintillating in your big doe eyes. This desperate need burning inside of him are you really divinity? Will you bleed glod, if he tears you apart with his teeth?

You're so ethereal squirming beneath, kicking and screaming vying desperately for freedom. He's fought this love for far too long, tried to preserve you in the light. Cover your eyes and ears and make you forget about the monsters that roam in the dark. But he can't not anymore, maybe he never could. Maybe the only way he knows how to love is by trickling his darkness like nectar between your lips and watching as it paints you in his shades.

ᯓ★ Superman - Clark Kent | سوپرمن - کلارک کنت

His kisses melt into your skin sweet like molten sugar drizzled on jasmine rice. Like lava smothering roses, leaving a trail of fragranced ashes. Clark smiles and he notices how you cover your eyes. Like you're staring directly into the sun. Like you're scared of being burnt. Clark can't help but bury his head in the crock of your neck, inhaling your ather. Molten roses and floral ashes he likes the amalgamate of your scents. Like how his presence lingers upon you.

He holds you like a doll, like the little straw dolls his mother used to make. It's easy to be gentle, coddling when everything is so fragile compared to you. He kisses down your neck, your jaw, nuzzling his nose into your soft skin, trying to earn a giggle a gold star. Trying to wipe the fear from your eyes. He kisses you again, mumbling cloying words between your lips, wishing he could just push his love between your fragile bones.

˚✶˚ Superboy - Conner Kent | سوپربوی - کانر کنت

He's fighting back the urge to peel your heart from between your ribs. To trail kisses across it and marr his lips with your ether. He wonders if your heart beats as frantically as his. He wonders if your ribs rattle when he enters a room.

He wants to push little superboy earings into your ears, to lay upon you the piercings he could never have. It'll be his way of telling the world you belong to him, that you belong to Superboy. And yet he settles for draping his leather jacket across your shoulders when senses a shiver run up your spine. He settles for the friendly hugs and airy hello-kisses. He wants to say he's he loves you. he can't. It's all so annoying, tasting the dead words on his tongue.

𓂃✮ Superman - Jon Kent | سوپرمن - جان کنت

He's scaping his nails along the Hershey's kisses re-aligning the red blue and gold wrapping. It'll be obvious, right? If he leaves them in your locker you'll understand the colored metaphor you'll answer the question he can never ask. You'll know it's him, everyone always does, for the byproduct of the world's greatest hero, he's terrible at keeping his identity a secret.

He blames it on the legacy flooding his lungs. On the promises that beat in his blood. He's born to be a hero, to play the role of savior, but aren't heroes promised love too? Aren't they meant to save the girl from burning skyscrapers and crumbling sidewalks, to fly above the skyline and kiss her in tune with the setting sun? He's so desperate for the sweet fairytale ending, so desperate to kiss the girl who always knows just what to say. He leaves the chocolate in your locker before making a dent in the metal door.

˚｡⋆🪙⋆ ˚｡ Two Face - Harvey Dent | دو چهره - هاروی دنت

He can taste your pain on his tongue, swallow the barbed wire, and relish in the familiar sting of hope, expectation, responsibility. Maybe that's why he can't stop himself from chasing after you. Burning the world demanding you stop him, desperate for a silver of your deficit attention. God, you're so ethereal with his gun aimed at your head, his pretty little girl with big starry eyes laced with dread as they follow the cascade of his coin. 'I know' he wants to scream 'I know what it feels like' but the words never quite spill out that way. And Harv only laughs at his foolish attempts to play hero once more. Sanctimonious bastard, the words reverberate in his skull.

You may claim to be a hero but Two-face knows you'll fall, plunder to the ground like all the rest, that's what happens when you reach for the sky, deem yourself Icarus, and let the flames of glory engulf you until there's nothing left. 'You can't save them' Harv screams only for Harvey to hear. They want to get closer, to slip the coin between your lips and make you taste defeat, maybe then you'll understand why he's so keen on fighting you out of your crusade. Maybe then you'll take their hand willingly, letting them sprinkle kisses across your knuckles like dying stars.

˙⋆☠︎︎⋆˙ Black Mask - Roman Sionis | نقاب سیاه - رومن سیونیس

He wants to cut out your big heart and sink his teeth into it, engrave himself in every vein, and chew on the heartstrings. HIM he needs to be the only one in that plushie heart of yours. The only one with the right to be graced by your ethereal smile. He wants to awaken to your soft nimble fingers tracing hearts and stars across his chest. Pretty pink lips weaving feathery kisses across the scar of his pacemaker. Giggles tickling his neck as you bid him 'good morning' in that all too cheery voice of yours.

Roman almost moans as he hears his name spill from your mouth, each letter cradled carefully between your lips he can't help but want to push his thumb inside your mouth, to feel your purity and shock. There's so much he wants to call you so much he wants to whisper in your ear as he watches your cheeks glow red. To hold you in his lap and trail his fingers across your legs, to dress you in pretty dresses and short skirts and skin-tight tops. To taste the fear and dread on your tongue palpable like the blood he draws with every kiss.

༄✩༄ Scarecrow - Jonathan Crane | مترسک - جاناتان کرین

He likes the stars in your eyes, the mini constellations spelling out your greatest fears. The tears blooming in the corners of your dopey eyes have his lips twitching. You're so gorgeous like this, curled up on the floor trying to make sense of such an eerie world. Jonathan doesn't anoint himself a fool, he knows it's chimeric to think that you'd love him without the toxin, without the heavy drugs he's spilled into your veins. That's why he keeps you like this, scared and depressed. Always in need of him.

What's your greatest fear? He wonders when you tuck your head between your knees and sob all so quietly as to not disturb him. Is it him you see in your grandest nightmares? Is it the mask jumping at you from within the darkness, or is it Professor Crane abandoning you in such a macabre world? Mask on mask off it makes no difference. He just hopes he's the star of every nightmare, as long as you fear him as much as he fears losing you.

｡??｡ Riddler- Edward Nygma| ریدل - ادوارد نیگما

It's frivolous to think he will not solve this riddle. That he will no unearth this plague you have bestowed upon him. This fixation, this obsession, he needs to understand you, to peel away your skin and glimpse at your inner clock workings. To undo your screws one by one and find out what exists between that haunting laugh and those knowing vicious eyes. To rip apart your wires, and feed upon your mind. To understand, he needs to understand you.

He got close once when he had your neck under his shoe, but the evil lith of your laughter rings across the room and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't unnerved. He doesn't know what question to ask first. 'what have you done to me'? 'why do you think you're better than me?', 'Why don't you love me?' Instead, the silence shatters with your voice, proud melody rivaling his own, your eyes lock on him and he can't suppress his shutter. "Well Eddie, riddle me this. What can kill any man, but isn't even alive itself?"

⁺♡⁺ Deathstroke - Slade Wilson | مرگ سکته - اسلی�� ویلسون

You're like a shooting star, dancing across the night as you stalk his latest kill. Little asssasin, you know your stuff but he finds your thirst for ineage and morality both exhausting and honorable. Most people grow up and spit out their morals with blood and broken teeth. Let the world's cruel realities claw and gnaw at their skin until it's hardened enough to survive. He's yet to see you extend such a courtesy to the world, makes him think that pulling the trigger on you would be some sort of mercy. Bullet through the heart leaving your body coated in his essence and one final kiss pressed onto your paling lips.

He dosen't notice the inkling of you rattling around in his brain until he realizes that this is the eighth him he's seen you smile at the end of his barrel. Pretty little girl chasing after morals and sand, hoping to escape the endless night by spilling just a little more guilty blood. You look like some sort of ethereal doll, immortal in your innocence and vicious in your virtues. He can respect that, truly but Slade isn't naive enough to think you have what it takes to survive. Maybe that's why he wants all so badly to feed you his victim's hearts and eyes and livers, to push them past your pretty lips, staining them the deepest red. Watching your delicate throat constrict as you swallow everything he gives you. Reveling in the sensation of your greedy little tongue swirling around his fingers licking up the access gore. Can almost picture your smile and stupid little head tilt as you thank him for the 'candygrams'.

⭑.ᐟ Respawn | احیا

Respawn drowns in his love. Pulling apart his heart to lay at your feet. It's all he's ever known, broken boy built to harvest spare parts. But you don't look at him like that, you don't even look at him like an assassin. No, you smile fondly as you nuzzle his neck with your nose. You look at him the way his father used to, like he's actually worth something more. He's never quite kissed you, he's not even sure he knows how. Instead, he holds you close to his chest making sure you hear the dull patter of his jagged heart.

He's born from greatness, left to rot in the dark. He refuses to play pawn, anymore. So maybe that's why, when he finally kisses you -with all the grace of a schoolboy's first kiss- it's so desperate and erratic, clumsily licking your lips and nicking his tongue along your teeth trying to think what his father would do. His fingers dig into your arms, preassing prayers into your flesh, screaming 'Don't leave me, you're all I have left'.

⭑☽ Ghost-Maker - Minhkhoa "Khoa" Khan | روح ساز - مینه خوا "خوا" خان

There's nostalgia in your essence, in your presence, something he can never wash away. He's grown addicted to the erratic reverbate of your pulse between his teeth. Kissing the bites he leaves marring your perfect body.

Why can't you just love him, let him haunt your every thought, and erode those pesky creeds, until he is the only thing you'll ever need? Khoa hates to admit it but he sees something in you, something so reflective of the little boy laying in the sand of the gobi desert, shooting phantom bullets and mocking stars. You scream every time he kisses you, recoil your tongue, and cry at the bitterness sweeping in. But Khao loves the challenge, the fight, loves forcing you into submission, even as your knife digs between his ribs. He's only ever content when your pith floods his mouth and your melodic voice rings through his ears. His precious little princess tucked away between his arms forever.

☾⋆ Phantom-one | روح یک

he never shows you his face. He blames it on his upbringing too used to old rules that he can never escape their clutches not even for you. His kisses are always clouds dancing across your skin, so light and airy they may as well be the wind. But tries to leave traces of himself with every kiss. Desperate pleas for you to look at him, to touch him, to love him back. All so he knows he's alive, still real enough to love.

He's always trapped between the land of the living and the realm of the deceased. Always so gentle with the love he's stolen, so careful to not break his lover, as his mentor did to him. He laces his fingers through your hair, sucks gently on the length of your neck, all while pushing 'I love yous' into your soul, marking you as his forever.

🎀𖹭🎀 : @your-yandere-kiss @fancyfeathers @yandere-writer-momo @nxdxsworld @lilyalone @neverano @natsukicookies @googeecat44 @starrydollita @mune-writes @a4g3lstarfire @yourhornysister @froggy-voidd @rissareader @6helpneeded9

@blacklunardice @princesstrunkz @mona1704 @testification

[vigiluv]

Help, i have a chronic obsession with nerdy and weird mfs

[arrowurboat]

when my favorite writers respond to my asks/reqs

[acid-ixx]

(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.

[meeowdrey]

HE IS SO NERVOUS,,,, HE IS SHAKING.

[bi-n-evil]

Me seeing a fictional character be portrayed as a dom/top when they're literally such a sub/bottom:

[nxtaliaistyping]

Batrogues | p links part two

(gotta be logged into twitter for links to work)

NSFW 18+. some new faces, some returning ones, part one here.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

The Riddler:

If you beg for his attention while he’s working in his workshop, then he’ll leave you like this.

Secretly has a soft spot for bigger girls <3

He’s a classy guy, he loves lingerie

How he eats it after you stroke his ego

He likes you dripping and desperate for him

Honestly this is how I need him to fuck me

The Scarecrow:

What, you thought just because he used to be a professor, he’d be turned on by you dressing so crude? He’ll show you what he thinks

Edward is the closest thing he has to a friend, it would be rude for him not to share you with the riddler.

As a thank you for letting him have you, Edward gave you a present. Now you use it and send videos to Jonathan when he’s working <3

You help him get to sleep

Likes making you ride him

This but he’s wearing the scarecrow mask

Catwoman:

She gets a sick sense of pleasure when she seduces a woman whose in a relationship with a man

Takes you to expensive hotels just the fuck you in them

You told her and Harley that you wanted to be part of the Gotham City Sirens, but they said there was an entrance exam

Yeah, it doesn’t matter where you both are, she’ll just knock out anyone who stumbles upon you both

Breaks in to your house with her strap on under her suit so she can fuck you

Thank her for all the expensive gifts by getting on your knees

The Mad Hatter:

Once he found the toy under your bed, he knew he had to have you use it

Loves seeing you in such cute underwear

He also loves when you act all innocent, so he can feel like he’s corrupting you

How he treats his sweet Alice when you do what he says

And it helps when his Alice loves it as much as him

Though he likes when you take matters into your own hands

Deathstroke:

He owns plenty of handcuffs

If you try and ride him, this is how you’ll end up

Oh you’re wearing fishnets? Good luck

Where else should he cum, if not deep inside?

Yeah, he’s rough

But if it’s been a long day, he can be intimate too

Black Mask:

Makes you send videos like this all the time, the more embarrassing the dildo the better

What’s that? You don’t wanna do anal? Well then obviously you don’t want to be his best girl, do you?

You still have to look pretty, even when being punished

After coming back from a meeting

Unlike Scarecrow, he definitely isn’t shy about being into the whole schoolgirl outfit

As in incentive to his men, the lucky guy who earns him the most money that month gets front row seats to see this

Harley Quinn:

Harls doesn’t like to wait till you’re back from the club

She’s a threesome kinda girl

She loves your tits

Fuck her with the strap, so she can fuck you with the same one tomorrow <3

When you put her panties in her mouth, she came so quick

What happens when she invites you for a sleepover

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨

[strawberrybyers]

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

[06stryker]

pov: the riddler wants to ask you out on a date

[yandere-writer-momo]

I know I promised Jervis, but Ed Nygma enraptured me. God I love that weird man. It’s short and sweet (to my standards).

Yandere DC Shorts: The Missing Piece

Yandere Riddler x Nurse Fem Reader

TW: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship dynamic, stalking, obsession, DELUSIONAL man, exploring Ed’s OCD a bit, and Edward Nygma is obsessive

Edward Nygma knew he was the smartest man in the world. He’s proven it countless times with his elaborate attacks on Gotham city.

He was simply kind enough to leave clues because he enjoyed the game he played with Batman! The attention thrilled him for years… at least until he got a taste of genuine affection from the new nurse in Arkham.

Never had Edward felt his heart flutter and his stomach twist when (your full name), his sweet nurse in Arkham, gently disinfected the wounds on his pale skin that were inflicted by guards. Never had has his breath shuttered when she’d ask in her soft, velvety voice if he was okay… never had he experienced someone show care for him.

By the heavens it was simply addictive. The chemicals that released in his brain when he saw (your name)’s sweet, smiling face were better than any drug known to man. Edward never wanted anyone more in his life.

Look at him, (your name)! Love him! Let him worship you as you equally worship him! Praise him! Be his! His! His! His!

If only the poor, little nurse realized just how detrimental of a decision she had made just by the simple act of kindness… maybe then, it would have saved her from the obsession of a lonely madman.

.

.

.

“I never noticed your eyes were such pretty shade of green, Ed.” (Your name) smiled warmly at her patient whose ears turned pink. “They remind me of sea glass.”

Edward held his hands that began to sweat profusely in nervousness. She thought his eyes were pretty? He found every inch of (your name) pretty! From the tips of her toes to the strand of each hair on the top of her head. How could someone be so perfect?

“T-thank you.” Edward felt so nervous… he wasn’t used to someone’s utmost attention. To compliments and praise he had always desired since he was young. He was thrilled to finally be perceived.

“I’m glad you’re healing up nicely.” (Your name) smiled at him as his green eyes studied her expectantly like a lovesick puppy. “I’ve been so worried about you. I’m sorry the guards are so nasty to you.”

She had no idea he purposely riled those British guards up just to be able to be here with her. That he needed his fix.

“I have a riddle for you…” Edward gave (your name) a sickly sweet smile as his heart fluttered and the blood rushed to his cheeks. Would she be able to solve it? He hoped so! He would try to make it easy so she could figure it out…

“A riddle? For me?” (Your name) smiled at him. “I’d love to hear one.”

Here it goes… Edward mentally told himself before the usual cocky persona he presented to the world came back to the forefront.

"What grows stronger the more you share it, and makes your heart beat faster when you're near someone special?"

(Your name) thought for a moment before she smiled. “Is it feelings for someone?”

“Correct.” Edward smiled as he took her hands in his. “Do you… have feelings for anyone?”

“Not currently.” She told Ed as his grip tightened on her hands. His breath shaky and his eyes glazed over.

Was he not on her radar? Did she… not see him as a man? Was he not handsome enough? Did he not have enough brawn?

“Ed? Are you alright-“ Ed suddenly pulled her close with a strength she didn’t know he possessed. His body trembled as all of his frustrated emotions bubbled to the surface.

“Look at me.” He said firmly. “Am I… not attractive?”

(Your name blinked. Once. Then twice. Her brows scrunched together in confusion.

“What do you mean, Ed?” She softly asked.

Ed scoffed and looked away. Why had he shown such vulnerability to her? (Your name) should feel blessed to be in his general vicinity! She was ungrateful to have the attention of the ingenious Riddler! She should be the one who begged for his attention, not the other way around-

(Your name) gently placed a palm on his forehead. “You’re hot to the touch, Ed… why didn’t you tell me you had a fever?”

Ed completely melted under the touch. His eyes closed and his breathing calmed. Her touch always felt so right… like his missing piece.

[aeternal-nightmare]

Okay is this anything

[urdreamydoodles]

Batman Villains x Fem!Reader

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

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

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

Joker

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harley Quinn

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Poison Ivy

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bane

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scarecrow

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Riddler

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two-Face

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Penguin

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ashieeeesh]

I promise im doing idia next 😔😔🫡🍓

[yourlocaldcbitxh]

How I think Gotham characters would reach to you being overstimulated

Brought to you by me being overstimulated

Warnings: Overstimulation due to whatever reason, maybe some self harm (scratching of arms or forgetting to eat), mentions of someone getting shot

~~

Immediate reaction is confusion

Why are you not speaking? Why are you rocking back and forth scratching down your arms?

Probably stands there for a moment before asking you to “stop whatever it is you’re doing” while waving his hands

Doesn’t realize that you can’t hear him until he just stands there saying your name (ex: Edward, Edward, Edward-)

Then he goes into panic mode

Buzzing around you wondering what wrong and how he can help

Settles with glass of water, absolute silence and him sitting there, making sure to get ice for your arms or whatever you need or want after

The type of guy to shoot anyone who walks in and then profusely apologize for the loud noise

Like a 7/10 when he gets his shit together

Pre Riddler

He understands and had anything you could need

Weighted blankets, headphones, snacks you name it he has it

Will let you sit in his apartment or lab for as long as you need

Will get a little distressed if you end up scratching yourself or anything like that

Will walk over and gently grab your hands, apologizing for touching you but saying he doesn’t want you hurt

Will sit with you or leave you alone

Another guy who gives you anything you need

10/10 would recommend

Post Riddler

Gentler than one might think

Technically he is still Ed and is in his body so he knows overstimulated when he sees it

Had the same things as Ed but is a lot less nice about giving them to you

Kind of just hands them to you and walks back to whatever he was doing

Another one who will leave you alone or sit with you if you need it (he will complain about being busy)

Will not care if you scratch yourself

May look at you strangely for a moment but will not comment

Will clean them after if they’re deep though

6/10 kind of disinterested but he’s there

Looks at you strangely for a moment before sitting next to you and asking what you need

If you can’t speak he will simply guess

Essentials are water, blanket, food, soft music or silence

Will not touch you unless asked or signaled to

He runs cold though so beware if he is shirtless or pants less

Will hold you in his arms if you’re scratching yourself in kind of like a bear hug

Refuses to let you hurt yourself

Big on that (hypocrite)

All in all like 8/10 he’s great but can be a little rough with the grabbing

Barbara the queen that she is will order everyone out immediately

Puts a blanket near you to grab if you want and gets some water

Doesn’t ask questions but kind of does the Hand movements asking “stay or go” and you can decide one or two

Definitely has flash cards made she is mother

Another one who would shoot anyone who dares make fun of you or makes a noise

She won’t touch you on purpose but will probably touch you out of instinct

Just move away if you need she won’t take (much) offense (just explain after)

All in all 9/10 we love her

Nice about it

But has no idea what the fuck he is doing at all

Kind of just, stands there and looks at you and walks away to get a glass of water before leaving

Will panic and grab you very roughly if you start scratching yourself

Doesn’t really process the fact that he is making it worse probably

After that he just kinda… leaves

Comes back with food after and says sorry but is still clueless

Explain to him cause he does wanna help but is dogshit at it

4/10 teach him

Another man who doesn’t know what’s happening

“Want a drink” (he means whiskey)

Gets food and water and that’s about it

Totally just freezes when you scratch yourself and kind of just…. Lets you I guess

Internally man is beating himself up

But on the outside he just sits with you to make sure you don’t die

And gives you things you ask for

He’s like that clueless dad who needs to learn but won’t or can’t

Totally a pacer and just walks in circles

3/10 help him (if he can be) he means well

This man does not know the word overstimulated

He is going at all times

Nothing is too loud or too much or too bright

He is the fucking sun for god sakes

Will simply keep talking when he sees you freaking out (jerk)

Covering your ears is a good way to shut him up because usually you listen to him

He won’t know what do to at first but turns down the lights and tries not talk too much (mildly fails)

Blanket and water are a must and he sets them besides you

Another grabber when you’re scratching

“That’s my job sweetheart”

Smells good and is warm so that’s a good plus

5/10 loud but he’s trying

Quiet and respectful

A man of science so he knows what is happening and how to deal with it

Gets you water, a dark room, silence and headphones, and leaves or sits with you while working

He is busy but he cares

A gentle grabber who lets you know he’s gonna touch you

“I’m going to hold your hands if you don’t stop hurting yourself doll”

Surprisingly kind and gentle but that’s because he knows what it’s like to be ignored and not cared for

10/10 for the insane man

[thequeenofuselessinformation]

I'm alive but only ironically.

Twt op cr: @FranziaMom