#dc jason todd x oc

[nukanukaco]

he’s got dad energy idgaf we can fight

#sketch #fandom #jason todd #red hood #dc comics #dc universe #dc art #dc oc #jason todd x reader #wonky anatomy but im just throwing shit out at this point #perfection smothers my brain so #oc x canon #original character #jason todd fanart #nukaart

[dutifulfemininity]

Hey there👋👋 could you please do whatever love language of the bamboos are ??

LOVE LANGUAGE OF THE BATBOYS

A/N: terribly sorry I let this request collect dust. My interest in comics fell as life got hectic and whatever the hell. I won't go all Wattpad author on you.

Dick Grayson’s love language is words of affirmation. At the peak of his characterization, he is a man ravenous for praise and attention. A moment of peace, of relief, of sweetness.

Stunted, yet too grown for his own good—simultaneously. He will seek attention, showering you with gifts and compliments in hopes that you reciprocate. Holidays would read like a HallMark movie that would move suburban mothers to tears.

Dick is also the man to send romantic quotes stolen from Pinterest, and the occasional confusing poem of his own hand. His nerves would grind as he read the ‘’seen’’ stamp beneath his text, worried out of his mind that it didn't properly convey his emotions, his love.

“What, no reply yet? If you're that moved, you could always come kiss me.” He'd send the message, playing it off as a joke. But his stomach groaned with the familiar ache, that cold and empty feeling of uncertainty.

What if she doesn't like it? Will she still like me? Would I seem lame if I double texted? Am I bugging her?

The flames of self doubt would spread and eat at his mind until his phone pinged with a,” it's beautiful, babe. A hard read, but the intention was there.” And a flirtatious emoji paired with it.

Thus, the flames of doubt were stomped out, like they never existed. They liked the poem, and he would spend hours rereading it. Marveling and gushing because you liked it. Something he made.

Jason Todd's love language is acts of service. It's a loyalty thing for him.

Gift sharing could be manipulation; soft words could be lies, and he's too self-loathing to believe them anyway. Red Hood swallows his spare time, and his desire for touch swung on a pendulum—one side thirsting for it, the other side uncomfortable.

The thought of returning home to a nice and warm meal would make him melt into a puddle. Or finding his hero suit washed, and his gear cleaned and stored away.

It reignites a flame in his cold eyes, the domesticity calling forth an unclassified emotion that sent goosebumps blazing over his skin like wildfire, calling his arm hairs to attention.

Jason would return the favor. You would awake to find breakfast made, the aroma of bacon and eggs thick in the air, the sweetness of syrup carrying around the house. Scalding tea trickling into a pot, milk and sugar already on the table. Plates washed and set.

Jason would also do laundry and iron clothes. He gets those random bursts of energy (or adrenaline) and cleans the entire house spotless.

Baths would be drawn for you, and if he's feeling lavish, he'll add roses to the bubbles. The finest soaps would lather your skin, scented with the the best smelling perfumes—business was good, and it was a present. His calloused fingers would be overjoyed to massage your scalp (he hoped you'd do his next).

Tim Drake’s love language is quality time. Also, I would like to preface this section by admitting I haven't read much of Tim.

He would help you study. Textbooks adorning the wooden table after hours of quizzing. Coffee steaming in a mug, pens and highlighters scratching at paper. Kisses shared with each right answer.

He'd tease,” Oh, that was a hard one. A trick question.” A smirk, sweet as frosting would tug on his lips, then a warm kiss would swallow yours.” If I were as filthy minded as Jason, maybe I'd crack a joke.”

Tim’s gaze would find you, in the middle of whatever—washing dishes, doing laundry, exercising. They'd burst with amorous passion, like exploding stars, shimmering and twinkling in his irises.

When the sun kisses Gotham goodnight, and the moon assumes it duty, he'd find himself wishing he could be beside you. Not Batman, not Dick, certainly not Damian. That's not proof that he hates his colleagues or that his work is last on the list of priorities. It's just. . . you're higher.

“Hey, love,” he'd speak into the phone, after the voicemail prompted him.” I know you're likely sleep tonight. But I wanted to at least call and tell you to sleep safe and warm. And to save space for me.” A chuckle would roll of his tongue, the wailing of police sirens in the background.

Damian Wayne's love language is also quality time.

Time is precious to him. His mother’s presence was unreliable. He, his father, his siblings tango with dead every silvery night. Each misfortune in his family reminded him of that.

Robin is not what Dick thinks. It's not just bursting into hideouts and knocking the crap out of villains. The peril is real, as well as the potential for failure—and failure in their line of work means death.

Oracle was paralyzed in a second, one wrong move and her nerves were shot. Jason’s life was quite literally put on a clock, killed by time itself. When Damian was an assassin, it merely took seconds to end a life, one of emotion and desires and opinions—gone at the stroke of a blade.

Time matters.

Damian would try to spend all of it with you, doing anything. Attending museums, painting you, listening to your playlists. Finding the child he was depraved of for so long. Being an angsty teenager and loving it.

“This is considered fun?” A dark eyebrow of his would raise teasingly. There you sat, at a sport's game, the roaring crowd trembling the stadium and stabbing his ears. The golden beam of the sun roasting both you, and the overpriced popcorn tossing and gurgling in his stomach.

But, deep down, the liveliness of the crowd intrigued him. Even he'd find himself screaming along with the masses on their feet, yelling out praise or curse words.

Damian's jade irises would slide over to you, the sheer glee decorating your features. A painting. He'd see a masterpiece in you; how that expression would translate onto a canvas.

#dick grayson x reader #damian wayne #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x oc #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x fem!reader #tim drake headcanon #tim drake #dc robin #red robin #robin #red hood #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian al ghul #yandere damian wayne #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson #nightwing headcanon #nightwing #batman #batfam

[hana-no-seiiki]

WHAT’S UP DANGER?

— [ CH 01 ] WITH GREAT ABILITY COMES GREAT ACCOUNTABILITY

pairings: yandere! various (batfam, spiderverse) x miles morales! reader

tw/cw: no yandere themes for this chapter, characters get aged up later on but are teens to young adults now, reader is gender neutral but characters refer to them with masculine terms (hijo, man, dude), spoilers for spiderverse movies. but ofc since this is a crossover it won’t be completely the same.

status: unedited

[masterlist] [next]

REPLY TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

“Mama, stop you’re covering me with your saliva—!” You groaned as you made a half-assed attempt at pushing your mother away.

It was the first day of your attendance at Gotham Visions and you weren’t the least bit nervous. Not at all. Totally. It wasn’t as if you were just thrusted into this situation with no choice whatsoever in addition to the pressure of your family’s wholeass livelihood on your shoulder. No. You were completely cool with this situation. In fact, you were so cool that you’re almost late to your first day of classes.

“But you look so adorable, mi hijo!” Your mother rubbed her face all over yours, messing up whatever you decided to put on.

“Papa what are you doing? Arrest this woman at once, for gross misconduct or whatever—“

“You do look adorable, and if I do I’d have to be fair and arrest you for vandalism.”

You freeze at your father’s not so subtle call out, before swiftly slithering away from your mother’s bear-like grip.

“Augh! I’m going to be late! Hasta luego!”

It was August. The start of a new school year for you. A new life away from your family and friends.

Gotham Visions University. A campus filled with elitists; fancy rich people. The cream of the crop. Your future school. Being a scholar there would have been fine, amazing even! If it wasn’t something you won through a lottery. You felt like a thief, an imposter. Going to a school for prodigies and rich kids as an average old joe is one thing, going to a school for prodigies and rich kid as a poor lottery student is another.

“[Y/N]! How you doing man? Lookin fancy. The uniform so fits ya.” A kid hangs his arm around you. If you were being completely honest you weren’t sure about his name, but you hung out often for basketball and other activities around the neighborhood. With the amount of people that knew you around the community, it was difficult keeping all those faces in your head so you often covered it up with nicknames.

“Psh. See ya next friday for shawarma?” You winked, cringing a little inside for your actions.

But to your utter surprise, the kid in turn blushes before giving you a massive grin. “You bet. My treat!”

And just a few seconds afterwards, he hits you at the back of the head before leaving, “Hey! Ow.”

“[Y/N]! Good luck on school dude! We’ll miss ya! Don’t be a stranger okay? We’re still friends even if he isn’t here.” He waves you goodbye before returning to your mutual posse of friends.

You wave back at them, your expression slowly turning into a solemn one. “I’ll miss ya guys too.”

Grabbing your trusty wireless headphones, you make your way down the block. Sticking random name-tags you drew this morning to distract yourself from the overflowing anxiety in your system.

Unfortunately, it never is a good idea to be so distracted when walking by yourself.

“Contra!” You hissed as your body hit the pavement. No doubt ruining your uniform that your mother painstakingly agonized over getting perfect and neat for your first day.

Then, the sound of a police siren entered your ears.

Can your day get any worse?

“What did I tell you about not looking both sides twice before crossing the streets?”

Your father’s sermon began.

This . . . was going to be a long ride.

“That I shouldn’t do it.” You replied, completely uninterested in the conversation and looking out from the window.

“You’re lucky it was me y’know! What if some deranged man decided to run you over?”

Your faced smooshed on your hand as your elbow rested on the window sill. “I’d send my cop of a father after them then.”

“Don’t act cute with me [Y/N].”

“But it works oh, so, well.”

Your father sighed, “It does.”

“But with great ability comes great accountability!

“Yeah yeah, that isn’t how the saying goes! . . . It was my bad it won’t happen ag…” Right as you were about to tune out of the interaction with your father once more you notice a bunch of people looking towards your direction.

People you knew.

And now they were taking pictures.

“Wow, aren’t you the popular kid?”

“Mier — Can’t you run the red light or shout at them or something? My poor privacy is being invaded!” You desperately tried to hide yourself with your hands but to no avail. The sounds of clicking only grow louder, and your father’s pace on the car slower.

“Yeah yeah~ not this cop.”

“Papa!”

Suddenly, the attention is ripped off of you as a loud crashing noise resounds from above. “Woah.”

Your dad flicked his tongue in annoyance as he checked the damages. “Those vigilantes! Red Hood is one thing, but that Spider-man partner of his. I swear. He just swings by without a care in the world. I just got this repaired last week!”

“I think he saved you from having to get yourself fixed as well. You know, in a hospital. The place with all the bills that just tears holes into your wallet.” You checked the situation outside, confirming the lack of interest in your situation as people crowded spider-man’s fight. “And myself from a mob too. That man’s a whole multitasker and a half.”

“If you ever get a sibling, remind me not to teach them cheek.”

“That if depends on you, yknow.” You gave your dad the smuggest grin you can muster.

Hey, if he’s going to make you face hell for the next few years you might as well give him a portion of it while you had the time.

The car halts, signaling your arrival at the aforementioned hell. “Study well. Our future depends on you, [Y/N]. Love ya.”

“I know.” You groaned, struggling a little to pull your baggage outside of the vehicle and leaving as soon as you got it secured within your grasp.

You are only able to take a few steps when your dad interrupts with the police car’s loudspeaker.

“Where’s my ‘I love you too, papa’ huh?”

“Papa! Seriously?” You screeched, unimaginably embarrassed beyond belief.

“I love you.”

“Right in front of my future peers?”

“I loovveee youuu.”

“On the first day of class?!”

“Mwah mwah—“

“I LOVE YOU TOO!” You relented. Making a sharp turn from facing the originator of your future bully’s material, towards the entrance of Gotham Visions.

Once you get in you make an attempt to greet the people there, but is cut off by their mocking voices referring and imitating the situation earlier.

The embarrassment fills you up once more and you fail to notice your path intersecting with another.

Directly bumping into people seriously knocks the wind out of a dude. That’s probably why those people in those ‘mangas’ he always made you read fell in love at first sight. They were just so light-headed that they couldn’t think clearly.

“P-pretty girl—“

“It’s nice to meet you too.” said pretty girl as she steadied your form. Noticeably less affected by the impact “You’re quite the looker yourself.”

“Ack, sorry! I just get nervous around- yeah.”

She giggled. Oh lord, even her laugh was pretty. “Lovely papa you got there.”

“Augh, you don’t have to remind me.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, slowly regaining your balance.

The bell rings. The real hell has officially begun.

Once pretty girl made sure you were alright, she began running off.

Wow, even the way she ran was pretty.

“W-w-wait, what’s your name?”

“Gwen!”

You sighed as left you behind in the crowd of students.

This wasn’t so bad, you thought. You made one acquaintance at the very least. Maybe your new life at this school would be better.

Your new life at Gotham Visions was, in fact, not getting better.

You were fumbling through the motions like a newborn thrown to the wolves. If you hadn’t built a relatively tight knit friendship with Gwen you were sure you would have ran away by now.

Everyone always ignored you when you greeted them. Your dormmate didn’t even see you as someone worthy to interact with and would often stay awake at ungodly hours doing whatever the hell he was doing on his laptop while you suffered from his ‘background music.’ Your parents only ever talked to you about academics when it was the last thing you wanted on your mind at weekends. You were always, always late to class.

You were practically falling apart at the seams.

You just . . . wanted everything to end. But you couldn’t bring yourself to defy your parents and so you brought it up to your studies. Purposely failing exams so you’d be kicked out soon enough.

“A zero. How terrible. A few more of those and you’ll have to kick me out huh?” You looked at your Physics teacher with a loosely smug look on your face. You hated Physics, the sciences and mathematics the most out of all subjects. Everything second you spent learning about it could have been spent drawing or doing something you actually adored.

You shrugged, “Maybe I’m just not right for this school.”

“If a person wearing a blindfold picked the answers on a multiple choice exam at random do you know what score they would get?”

“. . . Around 25%?”

“That’s right!” She flicked her pen towards you face before pressing the butt end of it to your paper.

“The only way they would get all the answers wrong . . . “ She then twirls around, marking your grade from 0 to 100 by placing the respective numbers to each side. “Is to know which answers are right.

“You’re trying to quit, and I’m not going to let you.” The smug look only your face slowly dissipates and transfers to her own visage. “Now I know you’ll probably try to worm yourself out of this which is why I’m calling in back-up.”

“Wayne.” The woman moved her gaze to your classmate. A strained smile on her lips as she stared him down.

You didn’t know the billionaire’s son that well, or any of your peers but Gwen for that matter. Just that he was as stuck up as his gelled up hair. Always sneering at you whenever you had to sit beside him with those uncannily pretty green eyes of his. You thought that it may have been your smell or something. Maybe he could tell how poor you are in comparison by your scent. But judging by the fact that he was just as much of a loner as you were if not more, you’re beginning to think otherwise.

“I’m assigning you two an essay, not on physics but on yourselves. What kind of person you want to be. I know you two are quite different in terms of personality and backgrounds, but I have a feeling it’ll all work out.” She walked behind the two of you, roughly placing her hands on both of your shoulders before squeezing you closer together. “And no, Damian. I’ll know if you decide to finish it all yourself. Don’t test me.”

“You two are dismissed!”

Damian takes one look at you and you can tell he’s listed a thousand things he disliked about you already. He re-secured his backpack prior to giving you one, heftily stern warning. “Listen, we’re going to meet at my house this weekend. 6pm. Don’t be late.”

“Sure! Where’s your . . .” and before you could even complete your question, he was gone. Just like that. “. . .house. . .”

You grabbed your own belongings with a moan; betting that the trust fund kid’s own probably costed a hundred if not a thousand more times than yours.

You swiftly go to your room. Mind completely empty and disassociated before an idea crosses your head.

You dial in the numbers on your phone before you could even think properly.

“Hey, Unc. Mind if I come over?”

No matter where you went. The route to your Uncle Aaron’s house was always in the back of your head. He was your true home. The only man who understood you — who made the effort to understand you.

You spot him on his couch, looking as cool and swag as ever with his legs spread a little bit apart. He laughed as you smooshed your face to his window before opening it and letting you tumble into his abode.

You lazily dropped the bag you brought filled with spray paint.

He patted your head and massaged your scalp, the stress you felt already noticed and acknowledged. “Sup little dude. You lookin’ down. Is this about . . .”

“What? No. I’ve already moved on—“You shook your head. In all honesty, the only good part about Gotham Visions was that it kept you distracted from grief. But before you could continue you spot a familiar image settled in a frame. Emotions started crashing down upon you like a tidal wave. “You . . . kept the picture.”

Aaron rubbed his thumb across your cheek as your eyes began watering, “You know I can bring you over to visit him. It’s pretty close by y’know.”

“I- I think I’m good. I came here to just chill out, y’know?”

“Let’s go, I know a spot we can let some of that pent up art juice out.”

A smile. A real one. Not one you forced on yourself whenever you met with your classmates, Gwen or your parents started to make a reprise on your face. You almost don’t remember the last time you did it because of your emotions and not due of the façade of being okay.

“See ya.”

You take one last look at the photo before rushing out with your uncle.

“Mig.”

PLEASE MAKE SURE THAT YOU CAN BE TAGGED BEFORE REQUESTING TO BE ADDED.

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#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yandere spiderverse #yandere batfam #yandere robin #yandere dc #yandere story #yandere spiderman #yandere spiderman x reader #yandere damian wayne #yandere bruce wayne #yandere miguel o’hara #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere dick grayson #yandere gwen stacy #spiderman reader #miles morales reader

[batsis-reader]

Batsis, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha.

Damian: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

#batsis reader #batsis #damian wayne #dc robin #dc incorrect quotes #batfam #batfam incorrect quotes #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson x sister reader #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd x sister reader #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian al ghul #incorrect dc quotes #incorrect quotes #batfamily #batfam x reader #batfam x you #batfam x batsis #batfam x oc #batfam x y/n #damian wayne x reader

[dickgraysonsbitch]

Hi! Just found your blog and it’s the best thing ever honestly. I was wondering if you could do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader deals with migraines and sensory overloads? If not that’s totally cool, have a nice day!

thank you so much for your ask!! this was actually my first request ever 😭 nonny you will go down in history 💖 a psa that while i do have mild sensory issues, i don’t have migraines, so any and all criticism is welcome!

warnings: pills/migraines | 1.2k words | dividers by @cafekitsune | requests open !

You fell onto the bed, tucking your knees in close to your chest. Fifty minutes. This goddamned headache had been the bane of your whole existence for fifty minutes, and you couldn’t even catch a bloody break. Every week, it would come back like clockwork, and while you had your routine (two advils, an eye mask, and soothing ocean noises all while sitting in a dark room with a singular, mildly-scented lavender candle with two out of three wicks lit) it didn’t change the fact that every minute that you lay there, the throbbing sensation around your head came back worse than before.

Grasping the tip of your nose, you tilted your head back in order to swallow the pills next to you. If you didn’t, you’d eventually gag on the water, and that wasn’t really a pretty sight to see. It was a miracle that you could even work as a hostess, especially on the graveyard shift, because it was taking every ounce of your willpower not to throw up at even the most tamest memories—a sleepy child with food flying out of their mouth, or a costumer shouting about how ‘insane’ you were when you had only gotten through your second advil of the day. It wasn’t enough, clearly, because if it had been, you wouldn’t be holed up in your dark room like a vampire with chronic pain.

One knock on your window jolts you from your ibuprofen-fueled haze. Two knocks. Three knocks—god, who doesn’t have patience in this stupid city? Not everyone can be a metahuman that travels at the speed of sound.

You open your window, head still pulsing, but all thoughts of another cup of mildly sweetened honey tea dissipates when the Red Hood smoothly slides into your living room/kitchen (it’s Gotham! Rent may be low, but you are poor as hell), removes his helmet, and shakes his head like a wet dog, the domino mask he was wearing underneath somehow not falling off. He shoots you a crooked grin before plopping himself on your couch, resting his legs on your coffee table.

“Shoes off,” you grumble. “And for the millionth time, I have a door for a reason. And I put food on that table, and I don’t want to see your nasty feet on it.” While other people might be a bit more reserved when talking to a Bowery drug lord, you had never given yourself the same boundaries. He’d crashed into your apartment when he was injured one night a few months ago, and since then, the Red Hood swore to one, pay off your window, and two, make sure you were safe. In his words, it was the best way to repay you for saving his life—even though you didn’t really do anything of the sort. Basic stitches that you learnt in high school, because that was what they taught when a vigilante could collapse in your house due to blood loss any minute in Gotham.

“Woah…” he raises his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes glinting with mirth. “What’s wrong? Rough shift?”

He can always tell, and you’ve decided to refrain against trying to lie to the only crime lord that you’ll likely ever be friend with, unless the Penguin unexpectedly decides to lumber up your fire escape. (Hood’s gotten you a spiked baseball bat for occasions like that, because you complained about any firearms). A pang of pain from you head. Mental note, put out the candle, no wicks. Darken the room even more, try and fail to go to sleep. You have your second job in the morning tomorrow. Mental note, take a melatonin if you can’t sleep, pack a few pills of ibuprofen and acetaminophen if you can’t get through your morning shift. It’s two AM right now, you could still get three hours of sleep if you—

A rough, calloused hand gently caresses your cheek, sending a tingling sensation down your jawline, all the way down to the base of your spine. Okay, woah. “Take a deep breath, baby.” Hood’s deep, gravelly voice shakes your from your stupor. Oh. You were slipping back into your anxiety induced panic attacks, and you hadn’t even noticed. You take one deep breath, but instead of feeling like you’re stuffing an oversized pillow into a kid sized cover, you’re at ease, letting fresh air flow into your lungs.

“How you doin’ tonight, huh baby? I saw your kitchen light on, thought I’d stop by.” Red Hood rubs a simple circle pattern into your back, letting you lean onto him.

“I bet…” you take a shallow breath. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

A smile cracks through onto his face. “Nah, baby, just you. All the girls have nothing on you, baby. You want to tell me about your day?”

Maybe it was just his voice, but you were almost immediately more at ease than you wee moments ago. Red Hood would’ve had a great calling as a therapist, or even a guidance counselor, but you weren’t sure that he’d like it if you called him, arguably the most fearsome man in Gotham, a service worker. Men were weird that way.

“C-can you talk to me, Hood? I don’t know… you have a nice voice, I guess. Makes me feel safe.”

You could swear that you heard his voice crack before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. So… I guess I didn’t do much today. Oh! This one sleaze-bag was trying to rob this eighth grader, and I’d never seen this old guy, okay? The kid, his name’s James, he immediately just swings his backpack at him. And I come in, this dude’s already gotten a broken nose…”

He keeps talking about the unexpected things that happened during his day, but your eyes are just trained on Hood. His sharp jaw, his toned arms, his hair and the decent-sized white streak that runs through it, his soft lips and the J scar that covered his left cheekbone, and you wondered what it would be like to know him without the mask on. Would he still be the same, sweet guy that you knew?

In a sudden moment of courage, you take Hood’s hand and squeeze it, your heart pounding nervously against your ribcage. “Thank you, Hood.” You whisper. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I would be done if you weren’t here. I’d probably be still having a killer headache right now.”

He smiles, something that you’ve been seeing him do a lot more often than he’s known for. Red Hood, vigilante, drug lord, crime boss? Nowhere to be seen. You try your hardest to gaze past the white lenses over his eyes, concealing his eye color.

“Jay,” he mutters softly, soft enough that if you hadn’t been sitting so close, you wouldn’t have been able to hear a word that he said. “Call me Jay.”

The head comes come back sometimes, but you usually tend to ignore the headaches after a dose of acetaminophen and a head massage from who might be the world’s best vigilante, Jay. You may not know his full name yet, but you know his heart, and under all that armor, under the Red Hood, is a man with a heart of gold.

please please please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can edit it!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #dc robin #jason todd x oc #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfiction #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood imagines #cinna’s asks #dickgraysonsbitch

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

#batman #peter parker #dc x marvel #Peter Parker gets yeeted into Gotham #spiderman #oc #red robin #dark matter #inspidered by the fic dark matter #yes that’s a pun #dick Grayson #nightwing #dick grayson is Richard Parker #richard parker #Oracle #Jason Todd #red hood #tfw you get conan’ed #Peter: making friends one roof top at a time #Spider in Gotham AU

[roxineedstosleep]

Can you do platonic batfam with a male reader who is like Hunter from the owl house

Imagine having a manipulator uncle and is a clone of someone

Clones have no personality.

Not at least in the interim of their realization.

At the beginning they know what they want and that, then, when they interact with a more real world they realize that they are nothing and at the same time they are someone.

The emptiness that comes with realization, anger, loss, parendiza and acceptance are things that take time. They take time, tears, reproaches, rejections, acceptances, cries, screams, health and so many other things.

Conner surely understands what the reader is going through, he knows what it means to be someone's clone and not knowing what else to do for oneself.

Conner didn't know he could be himself until he stopped trying with Clark.

The reader… well.

Being Dick Grayson's clone wasn't something you'd like to have known.

Worse yet… meeting Dick and then the whole family was even worse.

You no longer knew if your affections, hobbies, likes and dislikes were a macabre work of genetics or because that's what you'd really be if you weren't a clone.

You were- are? soooo much like Richard.

But at the same time you were so different. His dark light skin was like a beautiful bronze compared to your uneven brown skin. It looked like your hair waves were hideous compared to his perfectly wavy hair. His eyes were the perfect shade of blue, well-place mole on the chick, his voice was more enchanting than yours.

Every time you saw him more and more, you felt as you looked in the mirror something about your appearance warp into an eternally striking malformation.

Your nails or your fingers didn't seem to be straight, your teeth were getting bigger and twisted(?), your hair was not manageable, your skin started to get more pimples or pores… nothing seemed to have an end.

You were too young to even be considered Dick's twin, at best, like Damian, you could be considered his younger brother… his son? To old for that?

Well, like Conner, someone had to have given the egg for that cloning thing to work.

That wasn't the point.

The point was that you were everything Richard wasn't. You never would be and never would become.

You didn't have the strength or the agility or the courage or the chutzpah.

When Bruce found you, it was as if he had stopped time and locked you in the Batmobile until Zantana and others came to see what they should do with you. You were just looking for the quickest way to buy candy. A simple detour around a corner and all of a sudden you were being pecked and bewitched by a bunch of people in tights who wouldn't stop asking you questions or wanting to get inside your head.

Your only mistake was scape from the orphanage for candy.

When the spells failed, when the manipulations came to nothing and when everything looked like it was going to end with you ten feet underground behind a ditch… they resigned themselves to completing the last box in the "kidnap a civilian" kit: they had to see if you were a fucking clone.

Bruce didn't even think of Dick as a possible cloning victim in the first place.

You didn't look like him… not in the right way. At least from Bruce's perspective; being the genius detective that he was.

Bruce had just squeezed the wheel of possibilities with the DNA of everyone registered in the Watchover system… the genetic co-incidence was just that.

A fucking co-incidence.

And Dick, he had the terrible luck to show up as a match. But even with that proff he did not believe it.

You, you couldn't be a clone, you had to be something else. Didn't you?

Your son? a mistake from the past?

No.

You were just the result of a crazy ex-girlfriend, an idiot Dick and a test tube.

They took you with them. You couldn't walk around without anyone watching you. Besides, a mansion was better than a low-security orphanage. Wasn't it?

But it didn't help any.

To them, to Dick himself, you were just a token that everyone was replaceable.

Bruce wanted to test if you were trainable to be Robin, but you could barely run without dying in the attempt. It didn't matter how many days you stayed in training or fighting.

Nothing worked.

Your belly was visible, your fatigue was or seemed chronic (some cloning error?), your appearance definitely resembled Dick but not in the right way. Or at least that's how you began to perceive it over time. As they, the Waynes, used to constantly emphasise to you.

Sometimes you could stand for hours in front of the mirror wondering if you were really a clone or if the machine had broken down.

And just as your relationship with your image began to deteriorate… the relationship with the members of the house didn't even seem to get off to a good start.

Damian didn't know how to treat you, Jason definitely looked at you with pity, Tim watched you like a lab rat, Alfred and Bruce tried to make up for all their faults with you.

Dick… Dick, like Clark, didn't want anything to do with you or relate to you.

At the beginning he tried. I mean, one of his best friends is a fucking clone, who was fiercely rejected by the person who should be his family. Wouldn't it be hypocritical of him to reject you?

But it was no use. The few times you did hang out together it was clearly awkward for both of you. And even if anyone asked how you were related, Dick was quick to reject any connection.

"He's a friend's cousin, I babysit." "Oh, a co-worker's son." "He's one of the Wayne Foundation kids."

Over time Dick really emphasised that he wanted nothing to do with you, or to know about you or even to consider accepting your existence. He pulled away, with different excuses or reasons to the point where there was no reason why they should relate to each other.

So, seeing that nothing could ever be the same again… you decided to take the next step.

Clearly they didn't want to see you. They didn't want to relate to you.

Dick was, much to your consternation considering that he even never get you a proper ID, your legal guardian, but even he didn't make a big deal out of it.

Damian wouldn't give you the time of day, Alfred and Bruce were always busy, Jason for clear reasons didn't want to be there, and Tim had a purely clinical interest in your existence.

Why be with them? Well, you needed a roof over your head, yes, but other than that there was no reason why you should waste your time and effort wanting to be there.

You were taken off the streets almost as an adult, you could see your way to entertain yourself until you could get out of there. You didn't have the same pressure as they did with public image, you didn't have to go to galas or society balls.

So, you looked for other ways to entertain yourself.

First it was sports, but you sucked. Really sucked.

The arts didn't seem to be your thing, even if you tried.

Dancing was also out of the question and singing, even though you weren't terrible, wouldn't bring you any kind of personal satisfaction.

That's when the clandestine outings came in.

You drank, you tried drugs, you did whatever it took to get out of the Wayne family's sight for more than a day.

There were bad experiences, definitely, but it seemed like life wanted to somehow make it up to you for everything it put you through.

Before long, you found relatively decent people.

People who, in the worst situations, you wouldn't hesitate to ask for help.

There were even times when you would spend up to a month or more away from the family home and never get a call or message about your whereabouts.

Before you knew it, the years passed and you had turned 18… or at least you could say so considering you were a fucking clone.

Months away from the Wayne's, calculating that time away from home, I'd say it was a total of 2 cumulative years that you were away.

And you were happy in those months far from the Wayne mansion. You had two good friends, who were in and out of drugs just like you. They would meet in a small, ramshackle studio and eat and get a job to survive together. When the going got tough, you'd rush back so your buddies could make ends meet.

Sometimes you would even send them some food and old clothes that everyone in the house was reluctant to throw away.

Many of your clothes were, ironically, things that others had left behind. Not because you didn't have clothes of your own, but it was easier to finish wearing worn out clothes than to wear something new that you could wear later.

But that wasn't the point.

You didn't know anything about the Waynes at that time, and they didn't know anything about you.

And that seemed to work just as well for them.

Worked perfectly for you as well.

You didn't have to deal with them, they didn't have to deal with you. Wasn't that the best thing?

If you came back alive, with tattered clothes and calloused hands, they wouldn't say go. It didn't matter if you'd spent most of the winter sleeping without heat or if you moved the bathtub into the living room to avoid flooding the floor during the rainy season.

You were invisible to them. And you were happy about it.

But, like everything else in life, nothing seemed to be enough, everything seemed like a sick joke and no matter what you did, you always ended up in the same mental hole that kept you from moving on.

You don't even know how the fuck you ended up like that.

It was just a party, a private fucking party with your two best friends. Jackovy had brought a new sour candy (real sugar tasty candy) to try, Luz brought her own special drinks. You had gone out of your way to make spicy mac and cheese that had just the right amount of creamy yet tangy cheese. What was the worst that could happen?

A fucking Joker bomb, half a block from Jackovy's ramshackle building, that's what. Just as the three of you were halfway through dinner, ordering takeout for something sweet for dessert…. a stinking bomb shattered the front windows to the street and Jackovy jumped on you to get you out of the place.

Without thinking too much you grabbed Luz by the arm, and both of you held on to Jackovy's large figure to escape from the building that was collapsing second by second. As soon as Jackovy put one foot out into the street, the whole building collapsed and you pushed him and Luz as far away from the collapse as you could, they pulled you in time, but your leg got caught in some of the debris.

You didn't want to see it, you didn't need to see it, but that leg was definitely broken. You didn't know the severity, but from what Luz was shouting in her native language and the insults your other friend was hurling you knew that a bandage wasn't enough.

Clearly, as if it were a bad joke, because the Joker really was a lousy comedian, it wasn't long before Gordon and a member of your family arrived at the scene of the crime.

It seemed so strange to you, so weird.

They really were good at acting their double persona. I mean, you never saw Dick be gentle with you before. Not when you broke your arm after trying to climb the chandelier like he once did. Not when Bruce yelled at you until he was hoarse because he couldn't do gymnastics.

You never saw Bruce act carefully when pulling out the debris. You didn't feel Dick's desperate way of calling a paramedic like fake.

But, it didn't matter.

Really, if you didn't get over that everyone in the family had taken acting classes you could believe a little bit about their acting.

Really, omitting all the obnoxious disinterest you had in them, you could say they were worthy of an Oscar for best acting or at least they were too professional to care whether you were the forgotten clone in the house or not.

As soon as one of the two wanted to get into the ambulance with you, you shouted Luz and Jackovy's name for them to follow you. The paramedics didn't know what to do, but there wasn't much to say about it either.

"Only family members or couples can join-"

"Jackovy is his husband" Luz had shouted, noticing how you were trying to run away from the nurses' restraints " Besides he always use his husband's"

"A child can't be an adult's boyfriend-" Dick had tried to say, frightened looking at Jackovy, who definitely looked to be at least about 27 years old. His prominent beard and his height and musculature really made him look old, how funny that he was only a couple of years older than you or Luz.

His unfriendly face didn't help the current situation either, but that didn't matter. The point was that Jackovy had health insurance in his name, so why did the technicalities of the safe age of consent matter now?

"I'm 23, his MY husband, he's coming with me" You interrupted.

The opinion of two men in dark spandex didn't matter anyway. You're married? Perfect, the husband has more right to be with you in the ambulance.

Your friend stuck around while Luz stayed behind to see if anything could be salvaged from the wrecked apartment.

Neither you nor Jackovy or Luz felt sorry for the place, it didn't belong to either of you, it was just an old building used as a game room. But, some things were of sentimental value.

If they could be salvaged it was worth a try. Also, probably many of the drugs were there. Was a better option to clean it before the police started to seek there.

Getting to the hospital and getting your leg fixed was easy. Making sure the fake marriage paperwork and the fake ID Jackovy had gotten for you passed as real was the tricky part.

You and Luz had done a perfect job in creating all the false documentation in order to generate a fake ID.

Better job of adding a little more age to you.

They knew your ID was functional, as you had even been able to get your friend out of the police lockup on a couple of occasions.

But the fake marriage paperwork they weren't sure about. those were, in a better word, almost new. Not even more than a week.

They would not have been created had it not been for your friend's last minute idea to be covered in this way. Jackovy did it expontanea.

It was fraud that paper, not that your ID was any less fraud than that certificate, but at least you only had one ID.

Jackovy had several marriage certificates with different people's names on them. Some for a greencard, others like you, who needed to be able to use health insurance.

But the paper passed as valid, Jackovy's insurance cover most of the expenses and now you could get some rest before you could leave for Luz's now truly owned apartment.

The bad joints, at the end of the day, had ensured that you didn't lose the money you had saved… but for some reason had lured a falsely concerned family into the hallway outside the room you temporarily had in the hospital.

What the fuck were they doing there?

#batman #batfamily #dick grayson #jason todd #batfam #tim drake #batboys #batfamily fic #damian wayne #male oc #female oc #batfam angst #male reader #tw yandere #platonic yandere #yandere batman #yandere x reader #reader #yandere dick grayson #yandere dc

[igotanidea]

Jealous :J.T. x fem!reader

Summary/idea: by @littleprettykitten:

Suddenly i have an urge to ride Jason Todd, marking his neck with bite marks and scratching his chest, all jealous and possessive because someone was flirting with him. I want that hunk of a man mewling under me, saying my name like a prayer and telling me how much he loves me. I want bruises on my hips because he was clutching them too tightly and his teeth on my breasts and shoulders because that was the only way he could muffle sounds he was making.

So, here it is.....

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI!

***

„You know, usually it’s me who make you jealous like that. ….” She whispered grinding her hips more into him, causing a groan to escape his throat.

“I didn’t….”

“Sh, baby.” She pecked his lips, lightly, teasingly, pressing her body closer to his, nibble fingers running around his abs, chest and shoulders, barely touching, igniting his fire and the need for more “don’t talk….. just feel me….”

Barely a few hours ago they left the house, finally finding some time for the long-overdue date. The plan was simple – movie and dinner. Just spending time together with no rush, no fighting criminals, no patching wounds.

Well, it did not exactly go as it was supposed to.

Sure, they get to the movie theater, but from that, the things started to go downhill, making the date less than romantic.

“Can you go and buy the tickets, Jay? I’ll just take a quick stop by the bathroom.”

“Sure, princess. You go and powder your nose or whatever else you have to do.”

So she went. And when she came back, there was a unfamiliar girl talking to Jason and fucking twirling the strand of the hair on her finger, making doe eye at Y/N’s boyfriend, giggling in a way-too-friendly way.

“Are you here alone?” the girl smiled, putting a hand on his biceps. “It’s such a coincidence I am too. And I could really use some company. “

“I’m not really interested.” He muttered, moving away from her touch. Y/N was the only person in the whole world that were allowed to get this close to him.

“Why not? You seem like you are in need of a girl’s attention. Clearly you are touch starved and I know how to take care of a man.”

“I actually got a girlfriend.” He hissed

“ Really? She’s not doing much of a good job then” the girl laughed “besides, I don’t see her.”

“turn around!” Y/N called from behind, silent fury on her face as the girl spun and looked her up and down “now you see her.”

“I don’t see much.” The girl smirked, but before Y/N could start a fight, Jason stood up from his seat, wrapped an arm around her waist and led her straight toward the screening room, whispering soft, reassuring words in her ear and caressing her skin gently. That did not, however, stop Y/N from turning her head and throwing the daggers at that freak who dared to even come close to her Jason. She just smirked vindictively and both girls knew what that was supposed to mean. 

He’s going to be mine.

Well, over Y/N’s dead body.

Much to Y/N’s displeasure, the girl entered the same room and took a seat right next to  them. Oh, great, now the movie might as well not even exist. The only thing Y/N was able to concentrate on now was the smell of too much used perfume, slight, flirty giggling and annoying whispering.

“You know, I think you could play the main role in that movie” the girl whispered, not even trying to hide what she was saying to Jay “you are so much more handsome than the lead….”

“Could you just stay quiet?” he mumbled

“And so well-build” the girl continued, touching his chest “all muscles, so hot.”

“Will you stop this? I told you I’m not interested.”

“Come on, sunshine. You have a chance to take me home. Aren’t you at least a bit interested how it could be with someone who’s open to some experimentation? Not all vanilla?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Your girl, obviously. I know she can’t satisfy a man like you.”

“What the….”

“Enough!!” finally Y/N snapped and jumped to her feet, getting some shouting and cussing about disturbing the peace. Well she couldn’t care less.

“Y/N, baby, please sit down and try to relax….” Jason tried to calm her down, but she was past that. Her eyes were burning with rage and fury, possessiveness of him finding the way out.

“Relax? She’s trying to seduce you!”    

“And clearly it’s working” the girl laughed.

“Do you want to take this outside you little…..?!” before Y/N could finish that sentence one of the cinema worker appeared behind them and, well, to say the least, kicked them out. Awesome. One hell of  a date.

But frankly, it gave Y/N the opportunity to drag Jason back to their place and that’s how he ended up splayed on the bed with her straddling his lips and riding him like crazy, not allowing him to take any action or even a single breath.

“Baby….. princess…..” he whined grabbing on her hips and trying to force her to move faster. The slow, punishing pace she set was slowly making him crazy.  “please…. Don’t tease me. You know that girl there did not….”

“She was fucking flirting with you!” she hissed, pushing his hands away, pining them by his sides and slowing down even more making him throw head back in frustration “and you’re mine.” Leaning forward she started kissing his exposed neck, licking and biting hard enough to form a hickey. The sign of belonging.  In the most visible place he would never be able to hide. “I want you to remember that.”

“Y/N…..” he panted, once again trying to grab her hips, but being too whiny and putty and weak because of all her actions. He never needed to say a thing, the sounds, the groans and moans he was making telling her how much pleasure she was giving him. But…. She was possessive. She wanted more from him and wasn’t going to let go until he was completely falling apart beneath her. She wanted to make a mess out of him to the point where all he wanted was her , her body, her touches. She wanted to wipe the thought of the rest of the female race off his mind. He was supposed to think only about her.

“Do you want me to bond you?” her right hand started tracing patterns on his chest “cause I know how to do that my pretty boy. Unless you behave….”

“No…. no, please….. Ah, I ….. I want …. Y/N……”

“I love it when you say my name like that, Jaybrid.” She whispered in his ear, picking on the pace, skin slapping on skin, echoing through the empty, dark room.

“Y/N….” he whimpered, wanting more, more, more, but unable to ask her for it, settling on anything she would give him. Consumed by her. By the lust and need. And yet, still holding back. The way his face was twisting in pleasure, his eyes fluttering close, his breath hitching and how he was biting on his lower lip was telling her that he was fighting to conceal all the sounds she needed. Well not a chance.

“What do you want love?” one way or another, she was going to get them out. No matter the cost. And if biting on his earlobe, scratching his chest, grinding and circling the hips to create different angle and pushing past his limits was the way to achieve that she was not opposed to.  

“You…. I want you. Please…. So bad. More. More, please…”

“Tell me you love me.”

“I fucking love you. I love you. I am yours. Please, please…..Y/N. Y/n love, let me touch you. ”

“Jason…..” she whispered seductively, groping his pecks  “Jason…..” she was strong and the jealousy definitely spur on her dominant side, but she was still just a woman. With needs. And with her perfect man whining and begging for her.  And her control was slowly slipping. Slightly. “Yes. Touch me.” suddenly his hands were free, clutching her sides, pressing her closer, faster, further. Going in deeper, hitting that one spot where she needed him most.

“Ah!” it was now her turn to let out a moan. “Jason….”

“Y/N,….. Y/N…..” he chanted like a prayer, propping himself up, arms traveling to her back, trapping her  “I love you, I love you…. you….fuck,  so good.” Their sweaty bodies clung to each other almost like with glue, reaching for any part of each other they could possibly reach.

“Just good, huh?” she smirked, tangling fingers in his hair, pulling gently “just good?” her hot breath fanned over his sweaty, reddened face.

“Fucking perfect” he bit on her shoulder trying to muffle another groan and she shivered in pain and pleasure combined, tightening the grip on him, her hips moving on their own accord in the pace the legs were barely able to withstand. But she was far from giving up. She was going to catch her high.  

“Say my name again.” she commanded, breathily, being so close to the release. So fucking close. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Y/N.” his mouth travelled down her body, kissing her collarbone and sinking teeth in her the soft flesh of her breast, soothing the stinging pain with his tongue.

“Again!” she screamed throwing head back “Again!”

“Y/N. Mine. “

“Yes! Yes!” she screamed, holding him tighter “Jace, baby, god, please!” she was not going to let go before pushing him past his breaking point “Cum with me. Cum with me now! I fucking need you to cum! Inside, please, baby. Fill me!”

“Y/N!” at the end, overwhelmed by the feeling of her pussy clenching around him, his lustful brain finally helped him find enough strength to snap his hips against her, squeezing her hips tight enough to leave purple hand-shaped bruised.  “baby, my baby, my girl, my love.” He pressed his lips against her, kissing her frantically, with urgency and clashing teeth, throwing all his load inside her. So fucking deep, her entire body spasming in his embrace, nails clawing on his back, becoming one, not sure where he ended and she begun or the other way round.

“Y/N….” he panted pulling back and leaning his forehead on hers once his balls were empty and his cum was dripping from her pussy. “Baby….”

“You’re mine.” she managed to say “Mine. You hear me? Mine”

“Were you that jealous?” he raised an eyebrow

“Maybe. Maybe not. but fuck, you are just so hot whining underneath me.”

“I liked you on top.” He whispered leaning his head and pecking her lips gently, still keeping her in his embrace, their breaths slowly coming even.

“Really? Her eyes widened in surprise. “I mean of course you did. I am a fucking goddess.”

“Yes.” His flushed cheeks made this tank of a man look like a little, shy boy and damn, she loved that. She adored being the only one to make him this soft and submissive.

“We gotta do this more often than.”

@jasontoddsthickbabe - please forgive me, but I thought about tagging you.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd x you #jason todd x oc #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood x oc #red hood x plus size reader #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood fanfiction #red hood fic #jason todd imagine #dc smut #smut

[lazycats-stuff]

HEYYY, firstly how are you! I wanted to ask if you could write about a teen male reader with the Batfam. He is kinda like the winter soldier if you know what I mean ( skilled fighter, metal arm..), since he lived with the Batfam he was doing a good mental recovery, but one day he goes back to winter soldier mode on the fam, and they try to get him back to normal again, idk

Thanks you bye !

Hi anon, I'm well and I hope you are doing okay too. I can do it, no worries.

Summary: (Y/N) gets back into the Winter Soldier mode.

Warnings: implications of torture, mind control, mentions of Hydra, Bruce is sad for (Y/N), some violence... And everything else that goes with Hydra and brain washing.

The road to recovery is often a long one. Bruce thought of it when he first saw (Y/N), aka the Winter Soldier. The infamous one, a ghost within the intel community. Many people didn't believe that the Winter Soldier even existed. But the trail of neat and clean murders was the one thing that made Bruce think there is something more.

Of course, the way to get (Y/N) was hell. Hell being and understatement of the decade. Bruce at one thought that he was indeed chasing a Ghost, but something in his mind told him that the Winter Soldier was real. Something in his gut made him chase that ghost.

Months of chasing, fighting and hoping he would be alive by the next encounter, they finally got him. Bruce was lucky to be alive. He hugged all of his kids right then and there. (Y/N) was put into a glass box, strong enough to contain Bane.

(Y/N) refused to back down, refused to retreat. He punched the glass of the cage with his metal arm and some were worried that he would actually brake it. Bruce knew that even if he broke the glass, he had no handler anymore.

His organization has been destroyed. Everyone important was caught. Those who weren't... Well, their time was running out. They may have scattered like rats, but you can bet your ass on anything that the League would find them all. Especially since they didn't burn down their base. One hell of a mistake.

Bruce and the rest searched through the base and they found something that can only be considered as a holy grail when it comes to someone who was brainwashed.

A dark red book, bounded in leather, with all the trigger words written on those pages... Bruce knew that he has hit a jackpot. He looked through them and then has decided to burn it. They also found the footage of (Y/N)'s brainwashing,

The footage, as much as it is damning, making it very easy to persecute anyone they needed, it was also nauseating. (Y/N) was tortured with electricity, memory wiped with electricity... Worse of all, (Y/N) fighting.

It had shaken Bruce to his core and made him triple check the manor security and it has made him check on his sons 5 times that night. He couldn't sleep at all. He refused to sleep that one single evening and night.

And when he stood in front of the glass cage, (Y/N) looked utterly defeated. He was sitting down, looking down at his metal arm and his human arm. He seemed mad beyond belief that he was even caught. Bruce knew he would have to be delicate and gentle with this (Y/N). He had taken the book with him, to try and have some sort of leverage.

And to show him that he was free. (Y/N) was finally free of the mental shackles that they have put on him. Bruce took a chair and sat down near the cell, but far enough to make sure that there was some sort of space.

He couldn't have (Y/N) feel cornered.

He sat down, book in his lap. (Y/N) still looked down, but looked up after a few moments.

" They will come and get me back. " (Y/N) said and Bruce wanted to laugh.

" Hydra is gone. " Bruce simply stated and watched (Y/N)'s reaction.

Nothing. Huh.

" Lies. "

Bruce stayed calm and shook his head. " I'm afraid I'm telling you the truth. The book you see in my hands? The book with your trigger words. Do you really think they would hand it over ever so willingly? " Bruce asked, showing him the dark red leather book.

" You are officially free. " Bruce said as and watched the way (Y/N) reacted.

Bruce nearly broke when he saw hope in (Y/N)'s eyes. He never lost hope.

" I'll never be free... " (Y/N) said quietly, looking at his metal arm. Bruce saw that it was not a nice arms, made with quality. While it looked strong, it wasn't made to be comfortable. And Bruce could see the claw marks at the part where the flesh and metal met.

" That may be true. But you can start healing. You can start working through all of the trauma that they put you through. Mental scars will always be there, but I can help you. " Bruce said softly and (Y/N) was still emotionless and with hope glimmering in his eyes, there was something else too. Bruce could only decipher it as happiness, but he knew that (Y/N) would rather die than admit it.

" I'll be with you the entire way. I have a great friend who can help you unpack everything they put you through. And I can give you a better metal arm, something that wouldn't be so uncomfortable and something that reminds you off the organization. " Bruce said as he looked at (Y/N), holding the book close.

" And what about the book? "(Y/N) asked quietly and Bruce knew exactly what (Y/N) meant.

" It will be destroyed by me. I wanted to show you that the thing keeping you in their grasp is destroyed. Well, will be destroyed. " Bruce said as he put the book down on the chair before moving closer.

" And you can officially start your new life. "

" I'm not sure if I can... " (Y/N) said softly and the defenses were slowly cracking.

" I can assure you, you can. You will have to put some work into it, but it will pay off. I'll be there to help you to start. "

" But the feeling of guilt will never go away, will it? "

" After some time it will. One way is to go through therapy and work it out or you can become a hero. But that only if you want it and after you went through therapy. " Bruce said softly.

" Maybe then I'll atone for it... " (Y/N) said softly.

" One step at the time (Y/N). One step at the time. " Bruce said softly.

And that's exactly what has happened at the time. Bruce made sure to be with (Y/N) before and after the therapy sessions. He made sure (Y/N) knew he had support while he was talking to the Black Canary. And once Black Canary said he could start meeting new people, Bruce slowly started bringing his sons around.

Damian knew exactly how (Y/N) felt. Being in that environment is not easy and it's just the battle of the fittest. And one hell of a battle for your mind. You truly had to be strong enough to make sure to not completely break. Somehow, (Y/N) has kept his humanity, but he had to give a part of his soul to keep it.

Jason just talked to him about stuff and has made sure that he has access to TV shows and movies. (Y/N) needed to be connected to the outside world. And also, Jason has been bringing books for (Y/N) to read. Jason took him his favorites and often took him some classics. (Y/N) appreciated it and liked all the recommendations that Jason has brought to him. It was a nice break.

Tim has always sneaked in some snacks and the two would just talk. It was a hell of a time and since (Y/N) has started school, Tim would help with mathematics and some other subjects. (Y/N) couldn't really go to a public school or any type of school, but he still needs his high school diploma.

And Dick? Dick has been involved in making sure that (Y/N) was getting physical activity. (Y/N) was stiff in Dick's opinion and he wanted to make sure (Y/N) felt good in his body too. Dick did stretches, some tricks and considering that (Y/N) did have some knowledge about gymnastics, it was slightly easier. Not to mention, stretches were something that everyone needs.

About a year after being saved, (Y/N) has moved into the Wayne Manor. It was a nice change of scenery for (Y/N). Beautiful manor, garden, not to mention no noises... And Titus, the Great Dane being an emotional support animal for (Y/N)...

(Y/N) was incredibly happy, but had hard time showing it. Everyone knew but didn't comment on it. They were helping him get adjusted to his new life now and they were more than happy to help. And one thing that made (Y/N) happy out of his mind was the fact that he got a new metal arm. It was black, with red, blue and green accents. It was something to signalized that he was a member of the family.

Bruce was going to adopt him soon enough. Just give him some time and he will do it.

But something happened at the two month mark. Something made him reverse back into the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce was certain that they wiped the triggers from his mind. Not to mention, the boys remembered the trigger words, just in case something like this happened and that they could be careful.

But something must have snapped inside of (Y/N). The boys were careful, but something must have gone awry. Something.

Jason and Dick were the first ones to see it and were the first ones to see it and the brunt end of it. Jason was hurled out the window, while Dick was thrown at the wall like a rag doll. The commotion woke Tim up and Damian was curious as to what was going on.

They were also thrown around the room.

" (Y/N), you are not a Winter Soldier, relax! " Jason said as he made his way through the window, grunting at the pain.

" Please, (Y/N) this is not you! " Dick yelled as he gripped his sides, huffing and panting.

(Y/N), seemingly didn't hear anything and nothing was reaching him. The cold and murderous look in his eyes was more than enough to tell them that they had to subdue him.

Somehow.

Damian jumped on (Y/N)'s shoulders, trying to take his metal arm off. Once they get that off, they are going to be fine. They hope at least.

" (Y/N) come on! Fight it! " Damian raised his voice, trying to make (Y/N) see his senses. (Y/N) didn't listen and threw himself into the wall, back first to throw Damian off and then he threw Damian into the shelves, making him groan in pain.

Bruce walked in from the outside and froze in shock. His adopted sons in various stages of pain and (Y/N) in the Winter Soldier mode. Bruce stayed calm as he glanced over his sons.

They were alive and breathing. That's the important thing right now.

" (Y/N) listen to me. " Bruce said softly as he moved closer, quickly checking on his sons, who were all softly confirming that they were good.

" Look at me. Remember me. It's Bruce. You are safe. The Winter Soldier doesn't control you, you control him. " Bruce said, raising his hands in the air, trying to make sure that he didn't look like threatening.

" You control him, remember that. " Bruce said as he quickly checked on Jason.

(Y/N) looked like he was confused and shook his head. Bruce watched in silence as (Y/N) was getting his bearings together. And once he saw tears falling down his cheeks, he swooped in and hugged his son.

(Y/N) wept as Bruce embraced him and everyone, including Alfred, brought him into a hug. It was a tight hug and Bruce refused to let (Y/N) shatter. And (Y/N) felt safe Bruce's embrace, but by God, guilt was eating him alive.

Apologies were falling from his lips and everyone assured him that it wasn't his fault. It really wasn't his fault.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male oc #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

[applejuicebegood]

God!Jason x Goddess!Reader

A/N: The Percy Jackson kid in me had too. And with Hades II now in early access.. like c'mon. This was inspired by the song Broken Crown Masterlist

The tang of blood clouded the air of any room he occupied. His downcast glare as sharp as his bronze blades, stained with divine and mortal blood alike. He was vengeance incarnate. His body structured upon the anger and vitriol of mortals.

He wasn't like his brothers, of course he wasn't. His purpose was to crack bone and rip flesh, their's was to protect and cultivate. Jason didn't mind the difference. Someone had to embody the violence of his families worshipers.

He was content to live in his routine of bloodshed and occasional peace within the palace libraries. Until his gaze attached itself to you.

You were small within the great pantheon, a goddess of sea creatures and river life. And like Jason, you were content. To float upon the backs of your whales and manta rays under Helios's blinding glow. To fall asleep tucked away in your alcove with the river otters snuggling against your feet. To braid small shells and river pearls into your hair on the rocky bank of your forest lake, your legs lazily kicking in the crystal waters.

Jason had stumbled across your alcove after battle, his robes clinging to his body due to a combination of sweat and blood. He bent to his knees, your cool blue waters washing away the specks of dead flesh and the maroon from his hands and forearms. It tainted your waters, brining unease and uncertainty to your sanctuary. 'What are you doing?'

He looked up, your voice like waves against a rocky shore. And for the first time in his immortal life did he know what it was like for a mortal man to worship at the feet of the divine. He stuttered an apology, the blinding quality of your beauty too intense for him to look at more more than a few seconds. He vanished back into the shadows of the trees, his heart pounding in his ears.

He knew he had to see you again. His soul demanded it. So he bloodied his hands repeatedly just so he could wash them in your waters. For he would tear through the mightiest of men just to glimpse at you from afar.

He became a nuisance wedged into your days. And your annoyance with him couldn't be contained to just that, with how frequently he showed at your pools and rivers. It was fated that you both would fall deeply for each other.

Your blooming love felt predetermined, like your bodies had been crafted to fit against the other. Once the discovery of mutual love was made, you languished in each others grasp. Years of solitude and isolation suddenly shattered by each-others presence.

You cleansed him within your pools, washing away the scars of violence the world expected of him to bare. He would unfold into the safety of your solitude as your cradled his head in your lap.

You both would bathe in the warm glow of the canopy against the river banks, giggling in your own amusement as you tried to feed each-other olives.

You would steal his cloaks if he had to leave you for war. For you to curl yourself in, a weak replacement to his arms typically wrapped around your torso as Hypnos would claim you both.

To claim that Jason worshiped you would be a pity to the extent of his efforts. He adored you entirely; his precious, sweet goddess. He would carry you across continents if you demanded it. He would rip apart the world and drag your soul from Elysium should you ever be separated by death. You filled the vacant hole deep within him.

His shoulders bare the weight of limitless anger yet the touch of your sun bleached skin against his could quell any pain, any anguish.

Your marble statues are now confided to museums and the greatness of your love is limited to sonets and song. But nothing, not even time, could kill the power of the Vengeance Gods adoration for his Wife born of water.

#jason todd x reader #red hood #batfam #batfamily #jason todd #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #dc robin #red hood imagine #robin jason todd #God!Jason Todd #greek mythology #greek gods #mythology #jason todd angst #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x oc #red hood x you #jason todd fanfic #Jason Todd fluff #Jason Todd comfort #red hood x reader #dc red hood #the red hood #red hood x y/n

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

It takes a mob Part 1

PART 2

Bill didn’t sign up for this.

He glanced around at his fellow gang members as the kid let out another shrill cry.

The kid was couldn’t’ve been two. He was small, in a can and from it’s shivering Bill could guess very cold.

“Aw hell..”

Lifting up the tyke, Bill grimaced as he pealed off the what he could only assume was some sort of blanket and blindly handed behind himself.

“What the fuck is on that shit?”

“What the fuck would I know Maven? Do we look like a baby experts? Kind of smells like blood..”

“Blood ain’t green Ken..”

“Did I say it looked like bloo-“

“Will you two quit yapping? The kid doesn’t look too good someone hand me a jacket.”

Bill cut the off as he ran a hand over the kid’s back. After a quick round of rock paper scissors, Marv handed over his hoodie with a pout.

‘The kid is way too small’

Bill grimaced as he tried his best to wrap the kid tightly. He could probably his fingers around the kid’s waist and still be able to drop a penny between them.

“Was there anything else left with ‘im Bill? A name or-?”

“Not unless it’s on a candy wrapper.”

Bill sneered as he kicked the trash can over,

“There’s a lot of types of fucked up in Gotham but to leave a babe outside in January..”

Marv pluck the kid out of Bill’s hands and gently bounced him on his hip. Cooing gently as the boy’s blue eyes started to close before smiling and asking,

“So what’re we goin’ to name him? I vote Danny. He looks like a Danny.”

“Ayy no, we’re not naming him nothing. We are gang members, Hood’s gang but still. What we are going to do is clean and warm him up before we set him down at the Wayne foundation’s-“

Bill paused Marv let out a shriek. The kid had let out a sneeze. Usually wouldn’t’ve been that big of an issue but there was now a very big patch of ice on the building’s side that wasn’t there before.

Shiiiitttt..

The kid’s a meta.

Could a kid his age even become a meta?

How?

“We can’t take him to the foundation Bill.”

Ken muttered,

“The Bat will be notified day one an’ send him packing. Tough enough in the system as is, the second he has that M on his papers his chances of a normal childhood is zero.”

“And what do you think we can do about it? In case you forgot, our boss works with the bats.”

“We can hide him!”

Marv chimed in,

“There’s a couple dozen of us around, I’m sure if we just ask-”

“Are you hearing yourself speak? Hide him from the bats. It won’t work.”

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose as leaned against the alley.

“So that’s it we’re just going let the kid be push around the country? He didn’t came from a happy home Bill! The system will eat him alive and then there will be a freeze jr. in 15 to 20 years! Shhh shhh sorry Dan-Dan sorry, Calm down baby.”

Bill watched as Marv continued to shush the baby. For being gang member Marv has always been a gentle soul, everyone knew his soft spot for kids.

“Fuck…”

Ken chuckled as he ruffled “Danny’s” hair.

“Done being a dick?”

“Yeah, yeah.. yuck it up you two. If this blows up in your faces than I want no part of it.”

“Come on Danny let’s go find you some food. There’s got to be a convenience open somewhere around here!”

Bill sighed as the two exited the alley with the gurgling baby. Hiding him from Red hood was going to be impossible but at this point he knew when to give up a fight.

Taking one last glance Bill let out a weary chuckle and looked to the sky.

“I should’ve never left the goonion..”

#dp x dc #writing prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #jason todd #dc x dp #goonion bill is now a Hood member #Marv and Ken are my ocs #I hope they came off well bc I came up with them on the fly #Jason feels a shudder take his body as he looked up from his book #his guys are doing something stupid again #writing prompts #it takes a mob

[meatskullz]

He’s been domesticated

#oc x canon #myart #drawing #artist support #artists on tumblr #clip studio art #clip studio paint #dc jason todd #jason todd #batfam #batfamily #jason todd x reader #dc robin #dc comics #batman #dc fanart #redhood #red hood #batman and robin #digutal art #illustration

[dutifulfemininity]

Valentine's Day with the Batboys

CW❣️: riding, semi-public sex, unconventional aftercare, overstimulation, cunnilingus, bath sex??, mirror sex (if you squint, writer was rushing and it's obvious who they don't read enough of or just don't particularly like.

Dick Grayson had been fucking you well into the night, inside some abandoned building on his patrol. Your body was pressed into the chilly brick wall and his sweaty chest was pressed against your back." Fuuuck," he breathed out and continued his bruising pace.

His thrusts were frenzied and desperate now. Dick's bottom lip had retreated in between his teeth and he was purring into your ear." Perfect," he rasped," pussy." His black and blue gloved hands kneaded every piece of meat and muscle on your body.

"Good girl," he breathed out, trying to retain some sanity." Takin' me so well. So slick and wet." With that, he pulled out at the very last second and came onto your ass cheeks with quivering, tensing thighs and choked groans.

Dick had slid down the wall, huffing and groaning." Happy Valentine's, sweetie," he said, pulling a single vibrantly red rose from his suit pocket and handing it you.

Jason Todd's head was thrown back and his mouth was open in a silent moan as you rode him silly in the bathtub of the hotel he'd rented for you two. Rose petals and vanilla bubbles stuck to the small of your back." Goddamn," he groaned and smacked your ass. The sting was delicious.

" so addictive," he grunts, hands sliding up to cup and play with your tits. A sweet whine flows out of your mouth as his soapy hands circle your nipples, leaving them hardening in the cool air." You're enough to drive a man wild."

Jason almost felt toyed with after a few minutes." Sorry, babe, water sex is not what they make it out be," he coos tauntingly and plows into you. The back of your head was smacking against the mirror. He had you in missionary on the counter. He was trying to cushion the impact of your head, but your gummy walls were cradling his cock perfectly and his focus was having a hard time splitting.

With each thrust, roses and bubbles would hit the floor from where he'd dragged you out of the tub, needing more contact and pleasure. The water made it all feel dry and strenuous. His hand stroked your cheek, eyes soft and juxtaposing his sharp pace. Each snap of his hips had you seeing stars.

He'd ended up coming with his cock down your throat, getting himself a mini-blowjob in the process. Of course he finished you off with his tongue since his cock was down for the count and he's a gentleman.

"Happy Valentine's to us and us only, my love," he purred and drug his finger down your slit, over the overstimulated and throbbing clit he'd sucked dry.

Damian Wayne gazed at your cunt as it stretched over his cock. It was Valentine's Day and he spoiled you rotten. Streamers and balloons were thrown everywhere; half eaten steak and half-drank expensive wine laid on the nightstand of his room.

You'd convinced Damian to let you ride him, to finally be spoiled for once. He sucked in a sharp breath, toned stomach rippling." Beautiful," he stated in a hushed tone. If you didn't know Damian any better, his version of sex-talk would've gone over your head. But it didn't. You blushed and ran a hand through his straight, black locks.

The only sign that he was even alive was his mouth, which was parted into a silent groan. Your thighs locked into a squatting position and you began to bounce on his cock. Damiann grasped your thighs as his back arched up into you." Beloved," he rasped out.

The sheets were sliding off the corners of the bed; the roses and streamers on the mattress were swiftly getting kicked off. Damian had a grip on the ends of your hair, controlling your pace." Harder," he commanded, regaining some dominance." Do I look like I'm made of glass?" A sharp, cracking sound split the grunts and moans. He'd smacked your ass." 'M not. And I don't scare easily so break me, if you can," he scoffed.

It had been at least ten minutes and Damian hadn't cum. Damn him and his stamina. You had cum twice; your thighs were aching and your cunt was pulsing and leaking onto his pelvis. If it weren't for you being the one to convince him to be ridden, you'd have gotten off long ago.

"Dami," you moaned out, hands on his toned chest. He'd lost it; the sultry, almost pornographic spill of his name from your mouth was enough to jerk his hips and have him shoot his seed into you." Shit," he breathed out, hands falling from your hips to your thighs and caressing the aching muscles as he tries to catch his breath.

You stifled chortles at his cussing, since it was so rare. Neither one of you panicked, both so caught in the bliss, and the subconscious knowledge of knowing you were on the pill." I hope I made this V-Day memorable, Dami," you puffed tiredly.

Tim Drake (don't read much of him, sorry) had you on your back, arching up into his mouth. The night of love and passion had started slow---kisses, hickies, and sweet nothings. You'd always believed that Tim enjoyed the foreplay more than the actual sex.

With time, you were able to move the night into something more...erotic. Now your hands were carding through the raven waves as his tongue lapped greedily at your weeping cunt. Pornographic mewls and whines flowed from your lips like a ballad, seducing Tim. His hips were thrusting down into the bed; he was trying to sync his tongue and his hips.

"Yes," you moaned," right there." Tim's tongue fucked in and out of you, two fingers curled in your cunt. The soft scratch of his nails on your pillowy walls was heavenly. It felt as if the bed would levitate you straight to Aphrodite's feet.

Gazing down at him, you could see the ethereality of his features. They were soft, delicate; his pupils were blown and clashing with his electric blue eyes. His plump and supple tongue was shimmering with your body's gratitude before and after he brought you to a planet-imploding orgasm.

Your eyes screwed shut and your back hunched and thighs quivered. Tim's hands clasped around your waist, calming you, bringing you down gracefully. The position you two held looked renaissance painting worthy.

Soon, your thighs relaxed and you slumped on the mattress. With a yawn, you said," so tired, Timmy." His electric eyes flickered to your glowing face." But you haven't eaten your chocolates yet."

Bruce had you on your back, legs pressed to your shoulders as he pounded into you. It was one of his favorite positions when he was feeling passionate. He liked to see your cheeks redden and lips wet and plump from all the kissing. He thought you looked divine like this---a light sheen of sweat coating your face, limps slobbery and plump, eyes glossy and fucked out.

"Bruce," you whined sultrily. He'd already brought you to three celestial shifting orgasms." Please." The makings of a grin crawled up his face and his two of his thumb snaked into your mouth." Again, sweet one," he commanded. You moaned, skin searing with enough lust and desire to make Venus blush.

A light, nearly invisible blush spread over Bruce's cheeks. For a second, the only noises heard were the erotic and lustful sounds of his hips smashing against your used and slimy cunt. His hands were pressed on the backs of your knees, subtly pushing them up farther.

Soon, he came with a shout, falling against your chest and panting. He promptly pulled the condom off and tossed it in the trashcan beside his nightstand. Your arms wrapped around his sweaty and blistering body." Are you okay?" He asked as softly as he could, trying terribly to keep the Batman out of his voice. He rang for Alfred to start a bath and order-in.

#tim drake #dc robin #red robin #batman and robin #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x female!reader #dick grayson x oc #dick grayson x y/n #dick grayson x you #dick grayson headcanon #nightwing #nightwing headcanon #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood #yandere damian wayne #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you

[hana-no-seiiki]

OKAI THE BRAINROT IS NOT GOING AWAY IM INDULGING IT

LEGITIMATELY REWATCHED A FEW SECONDS OF CHAT NOIR AND WAS LIKE GODDAMN I WANT TO SEE THE ROBINS WITH THIS SLUT BEHAVIOR AAAAA

anyways

pairings: yandere! batfam x cat villain! reader.

just a little snippet im too lazy for more huhu

the real reason why some of the boys coveted the robin position so much wasn’t cause it gave them batman’s attention

no no no

it was because it meant that you would be inevitably be their rival and, if they’re charming enough, your friend.

you were harmless in the grand scheme of things, helpful in some cases. very much like your mentor, catwoman. only with a much more heavy appetite for chaos and being slutty around the robins and the robins alone

you didn’t care who it was under the mask, if they did not don it anymore you wouldn’t care less about them.

which brings us to our current situation

damian wayne was your latest victim. so far your favorite prey of all those that previously had his spot.

he was everything you liked about the domino masked hero: sassy, controlling, and ever so quick to take the bait that is your teasing.

but a small, itsy bitsy mistake on your part caused him to get horridly injured.

as such you took it upon yourself to take care of him that night.

he kept rattling on about “not needing your pity.” or how “a heinous criminal like you shouldn’t be even touching him” as if you two didn’t wrestle in more ways than one on the regular.

of course you ignored his pleas like always and healed him up

“why are you doing this? if not pity then—“ damian cursed as pain shot through his entire body. every time he was getting on your nerves by speaking too much you’d often dig into him harshly with your gauze.

“i wouldn’t want our chase to be over before you catch me.” you breathed out, wincing at all the blood before you.

heroes and vigilantes alike often dehumanized you. would say that you were some heartless, ruthless criminal with no regard nor compassion for anybody but yourself. but you could never get used to the blood and violence it took for you to get what you want — what you needed.

selina said that was your best trait

“after all, don’t you enjoy proving those stupid do gooders wrong?”

she’d say

you smile as you remembered the times you’d tease his predecessors. how you’d shower them with love, how you’d endear yourself to them. your little birdies til they weren’t. it’s amazing how blinded by love they were. they never even began to think that your flighty nature was the one at fault and not theirs for failing to keep their occupation.

perhaps you should thank bruce for his shitty parenting techniques.

damian never really thought much of you. he knew of tim’s little stalking hobby, of jason’s bloody shows of affection, of dick’s reckless attitude whenever you two fought. he just saw those as proof of his triumph, his superiority. if you acknowledged him then he succeeded. if you pitied him then you saw him as a failure.

then he realized he never truly understood them until this moment

but now that he knew just how much he has, that his brothers don’t. something that they would no doubt kill to have again…

he’ll make sure they never get you even over his dead body.

check reblogs for more cause ill be adding there for the uh 12-24 hours

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere oc x reader #yandere fic #yandere core #yandere batfam #batfam #batfam x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #yandere batfam x reader #dc x reader #dc #yandere dc x reader #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #tim drake

[nightw-izhu]

pleasepleaseplease tag your non-reader friendly posts correctly, I'm tired of thinking one post is an "x reader" but the mc is an oc 🥲🥲🥲🥲

yes we can just imagine ourselves in the oc's place but I'm telling y'all it doesn't hit as hard as reader-insert's 😓

actually this is kinda all applies under the not tagged correctly posts where they get tagged as "male" reader but the content in it is afab 😢 or the non gender-neutral ones getting tagged in a gendered post

#also the oc is usually white or not poc friendly 💀 no offense #it really doesn't hit hard #like it's probably just me but I can't imagine myself when the mc has predetermined looks #and name #dick grayson x reader #remembering them in “x reader” tag #loki laufeyson x reader #marvel x reader #dc x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revenger x reader #jason todd x reader #kenma x reader #genshin x female reader #genshin x male reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #honkai star rail x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dc x fem!reader #bruce wayne x f!reader #bruce wayne x reader #genshin impact x male reader #könig x female reader #cod x gn!reader #cod x reader #ada wong x reader #fnaf security breach x reader #fnaf x reader

[yandereworlds]

BAT FAMILY BOT (PURGE AU)

After some contemplation, I've finally gotten around to making another Bat Family bot after receiving many requests for another one, but this one is centered around the Purge. I just feel like there's a lot of potential with the whole Purge concept because there's a lot of ways you can go about it, so.. Here it is!

I couldn't find a decent photo for the bot, so I decided to make my own. So, feel free to visit the bot and let me know what you guys think! I have a lot more DC concepts for bots and so far, I can tell you guys are really enjoying them. Thank you for the continued support, you guys are amazing.

You can find the bot here! And here's a link to my Ko-fi, if you'd like to help me continue making bots for JanitorAI. Hope you guys enjoy!

#yandere #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere x reader #male yandere #//mun kiki #yanderecore #bat family #dc #dc comics #Bruce Wayne #Damian Wayne #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Purge AU #Janitorai #//mun kiki art #dc fanart