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420ruffy · 1 year

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⟡ sex with the batboys hc ,, jason tim dick

Jason

bisexual switch

leans more towards women and bottoming/being submissive

no preference for subbing or domming when he’s with a man. he mostly likes when both of you can just switch and there’s no real power dynamic

PRAISE KINK. not only is he a fucking leo but he also has a lot of emotional issues and trauma that led to him developing a praise kink. pls just tell him he’s doing a good job and that you’re proud of him, it’s all he wants to hear

he doesn’t like being aggressive or violent and isn’t into anything degrading etc.

in fact, he hates men who are violent towards women during sex

no choking no slapping. he hates it. he finds it vulgar

hates blindfolds and being tied up due to trauma. and he won’t do it to you either

very ‘vanilla’ so just normal

just bc he’s vanilla doesn’t mean he can’t be rough and fast. he’ll fuck you good dw. or he himself wants to get fucked rough and fast.

if he’s with a woman you best believe her pleasure comes first.

definitely a service/pleasure dom when it’s a woman. but he also likes being submissive with women. body worship. just makes sure you’re taken care of and he loves doing it.

eating you out is relaxing to him. he loves having you ride his face or just being able to bury his face in your cunt after a long day and being surrounded by your smell

giving you head also makes him incredibly hard. he can’t help but pump his cock while you’re riding him and moaning into your pussy. or humping the mattress in the same rhythm his mouth is moving

he loves making out and foreplay such as making out and kissing your neck and ears. he loves how content and relaxed you look and sound and how desperate you get for more

he’s very vocal & loud. it’s all too chaotic in his head and his emotions for him to be reasonable. when he’s desperate he just starts blurting out anything that’s on his mind groaning and whining.

he loves it when you tug on his hair. it makes him roll his eyes and moan. there’s just something about it

besides his name and the usual pet names he likes getting called good boy and puppy. “such a good boy, you’re doing so well” “you’re such a good puppy for me, sweetie”

he likes rubbing himself on you. just bodies pressed against each other and desperately rutting his hips against your body. something about it is just very erotic to him. probably the desperation (a/n: i’m a firm believer in desperate!jason)

he either wants to really take his time and have gentle, passionate, sensual, erotic sex or- you or him domming the other with a lot of dirty talk and orgasms

Tim

also a bisexual switch but leaning more towards men and being a bottom

not into anything heavy or bdsm at all. very vanilla. surprisingly, he does really like food play though.. something about it is erotic to him and it’s fun

just covering some of your body parts in something delicious and licking it off

loves it when you ride him and he’s just able to relax and look at you

he is chronically tired bc of his lifestyle so he likes not having to do much during sex and prefers bottoming and normal positions

wants you to take care of him

really likes gentle touches during sex. he often takes one of your hands and puts it on his cheek for you to hold and caress him

loves it when you’re on top of him with your front pressed against his, your lips pressing light kisses against his ear and neck while he’s thrusting up inside you/you’re thrusting inside him

let’s out quiet desperate high pitched whines and moans and breaths

he wants to hug a lot during sex. just as much touch as possible

Dick

bisexual switch with a dom lean. likes women and men the same amount.

also a praise kink. mainly bc of trauma ofc but also bc he has a big ego

he would never deny praise. or physical touch. especially from his s/o

he‘s very mischievous and loves attention. so it didn’t surprise you when you got together with dick grayson and he started being handsy in public and in front of others. he didn’t care if ppl saw all the pda, in fact, he liked it. he likes showing you off to other ppl and he likes it when ppl see that you‘re his.

he can be really insecure so having other ppl see that you’re with him makes him feel good

loves giving you head in risky places ex: on rooftops while he’s out on patrol, in bedrooms at galas etc. not really public places but places where the chance of getting caught is high. it’s just really arousing and fun to him and again: having other ppl see that you’re with him makes him feel good abt himself

he loves it when you’re loud and he’ll do anything to draw a sound out of you

he’s very vocal and he’s cocky abt it

when he gets jealous or somebody flirts with you he kisses you with tongue in front of them for a few seconds. you will be having sex that night. and he’ll make you cum multiple times, starting with a handjob, then giving you head twice before the penetration starts

…

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dahliadew · 1 year

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Danny Fenton assistant to the stars (dp x dc fanfic prompt)

After leaving Amity with little to nothing to his name and refusing any help from Vlad, Danny knows he needs a job, a home, and maybe some health insurance that would be really cool. So Danny applies to as many places as he can, barely looking at the job listing, just putting out as many resumes as possible. And just before he gives up entirely, he gets a callback! Who cares if it's from some shady place called Lex Corp? At this point, a job is a job; all he has to do is work as some weird rich guy's assistant. Great, he can do this; no one is worse than Vlad, and hey, the chances of another billionaire being a supervillain are like super low……. Right?

So Lex has a problem, and that problem is PR; with all the trouble with superman and the justice league, his public perception has been in the toilet lately, and well, he needs to do something before his stock prices fall even more. After looking at different ways to endear himself to the public, he looks to his neighbors across the bay in Gotham. Bruce when from the front page of every trashy tabloid to the face of parenting with his numerous adoptions. And well, he doesn't necessarily want to adopt a whole child but an intern that could work. So he puts a listing up looking for high school to college-age individuals who want experience in business management. Most of what he gets back is worthless until he gets a resume from one Daniel 'Danny' Fenton. Not only is he the son of two mad scientists, he had an early entry into the junior NASA program, but he's also the godson of one of his supervillain colleagues, Vlad Plasmius. So if he does hire him, he wouldn't have to hide any of his supervillain activities the lad may even be able to contribute to them.

However, in the background, Clack has been monitoring Luther's activity, and once he sees the innocent young man that he has coned into letting him parade around, he becomes concerned. And well, the daily planet has been looking for some new interns. Maybe he can convince the kid to work there instead. It would be for the best anyway, and it has nothing to do with the kid's incredibly slow heartbeat or may or may not have lifted some concrete off of someone during one of superman's battles. Ok, maybe it has something to do with the fact might be another surviving Krypton who was being taken advantage of by Luther. Or he might be a clone, but who knows? Either way, he's going to try to help the kid if only he would stop running away from him.

#dc x dp #dp crossover #dp dc crossover #dp prompt #dp fanfic #danny phantom #danny fenton #lex luthor #superman #clark kent #dcu #dcu fanfic #dcu prompts #fanfiction prompts #fanfic

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cardierreh15 · 3 months

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The Lady in Black

🖤☺️ eek

***i do not give anyone permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Dub-Con , Cursing , Smut , Cheating , Use of Restraints , Tentacles??? , Choking , Violence , Blood & Gore , Oral (Male Receiving) Pain Play , Doggy Style , Facial Shot , Licking/Swallowing of Bodily Fluids (Blood & Semen)

Pairings: Kal-El x Black!Female Venom 🖤

Description: When the subject of time and space has been disrupted once more, Superman and Lady Venom, have their first interesting meeting.

Word Count: 4.2K

Song: Demons by Doja Cat , One of Your Girls by Troye Sivan 🖤

Side Note: I wanna thank @milknhonies , Tokio and my amazing husband for beta reading and helping me basically bring this idea to life 🖤 I truly adore you guys.

Clark studied the area that was garnished with the limbs of unfortunate victims. He came to the quick conclusion that no human could’ve done something like this. He folded his large arms across his chest as he gently descended to the dewey grass. His face curled up in a grimace as he pondered on his next move. He felt terrible that he wasn’t able to make it here to save them, but sometimes these things happen.

Brushing that guilt aside, he carefully examined the area once more. Being mindful with each step, he wouldn’t know how to explain to the chief of police why the ankles and wrists of these folks were flattened.

With the scent of iron and blood filling his senses, he was about ready to go. He wasn’t usually the type to have a weak stomach but with the lack of sleep he was receiving work and being Superman, anything would alter one’s brain chemistry.

Suddenly, a silver light twinkled into view. He’d approached it and lifted the blood stained metal out of the dirt. Running his thumb over the medallion to clear the face clean of blood and dirt, he read the words etched in it.

‘Life Foundation.’ It was unfamiliar to him so he flipped it over to read the contents on the back. ‘Stewart L. Mendoza. 0741670…’ Then he flipped it back over to study the etching once more.

His thick brows tugged into one as he tried to piece together some things but he just drew a blank. So, he just dropped the medallion and walked over to empty space where he’d landed. But before he could take off, he heard a burp.

Snapping his head over his shoulder, he waited patiently for the perpetrator to reveal themselves. But then, a twig snapped.

‘Show yourself!’ Clark exclaimed as he blinked once, activating his x-ray vision. But he failed to detect anything.

‘KAL-EL.’

A voice rang through the air, a feminine tone but was masked with something inhuman and unnatural.

Clark turned around swiftly to see the white eyes of a creature standing on a branch. The rest of her body was hidden within the shadows of the setting sun.

‘What have you done with these people?’

‘They attacked me, I fought back… some of them are finding a home within my digestive system and the rest of them are amongst you.’ She said before she let out a gleeful snicker.

The glare of disgust and disapproval was written all over his masculine features. ‘Come down here so we can talk about what happened further.’

‘Hmm.’ The creature purred as she carefully stepped forward into the golden sunset. She was covered in slick blackness from the top of her head to her toes. She had big white intimidating eyes, and a monstrous smile with more than enough teeth to make a statement and a slinky yet alluring tongue.

She was nothing like Clark had ever seen before and he had seen the most oddities of things. He allowed his eyes to study her once more.

She had a curvy frame; large breasts that would even spill over within his grasp. Her hips were delectable and wide that matched her thick, doughy thighs. They looked soft to the touch, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they were padded with muscles by how toned her legs were.

‘Oh I don’t think so…See, I heard you Kryptonians could be a little… entitled.’ She let out a litter of teasing giggles as she plopped down on the strong branch and began to look at her sharp claws.

‘What do you know of my people?!’ Kal hissed, his heat vision blinding his own view.

‘Oh please, put those away before you hurt yourself!’ She fell back, hanging herself upside down on the branch, ‘I was only teasing.’

Kal’s eyes slowly faded back to their regular cobalt blue before he let out a gentle sigh. ‘Could you tell me what happened?’

The woman looked over at him with a blank stare, ‘Why? You’re gonna hurt me?’

‘Unless you give me a reason to.’

She sneered, ‘Hurt me. Tehehe, you’re cute.’ She mewed out seductively. ‘But I’m afraid I ain’t too much like the other bad men you play around with.’

Heat in his cheeks bloomed before traveling to his neck where he grew a little warmer than before. The way she spoke to him, she had so much sas! Usually, Kal knew what to do in situations like this but it was obvious he’d never dealt with someone— something like this.

‘Alright.’ He swallowed his spit and placed one hand on his hip, ‘Can you tell me where you’re from? And who were these guys? What is Life Foundation?’

‘Ugh!’ The being had finally swung herself off of the tree and landed on her toes as if she were a cat. ‘You’re nosey too? Sheesh.’ She folded her arms, popping her hip out as she admired him from where he stood. He was such a fine specimen. Good enough to eat… good enough to fuck.

The Kryptonian grew impatient with her antics, ‘Answer me or I’ll just have to force it out of you!’ His voice darkened.

‘Awwww you promise?’ She clasped her claws together in a begging manner while a big dreadful grin curled up on her face.

Playtime was over and his patience had run out, ‘This is my final warning!’

‘Oh boy. Someone’s a lil ang-wy! Careful now Kryptonian, I don’t take nicely to threats.’

‘Perhaps it’s not a threat.’

She rolled her eyes, ‘OK enough!’ Hissing before she ran towards him, faster than the speed of light and head butted him so hard, he flew through the trees. ‘Sheesh, you’re cute but you just talk too damn much!’ She snarled, her long tongue grazing over her pretty white canine teeth.

Kal had crashed into a large oak tree, ‘UGH!’ He exclaimed before he’d collapsed to his knees and then to his hands. ‘Aah!’

She’d already made it to him, hiding high up in a tree like a Leopard ready to pounce on her prey.

‘When will you learn that there are things bigger than you, Kal-El? … Stronger than you?’

Her words echoed loudly in the woods. So damn haunting but he was so blinded by rage, they sounded muffled over the piercing ringing in his ears.

Without warning, Kal’s head snapped up and he released his heat vision, burning and cutting through all the branches and trees before him.

Returning to normal, his eyes began to scan the area for her before his anger got to him, ‘WHERE ARE YOU?!’

She’d slowly began to scale down the tree, quiet as a hungry lioness. This was as intense as a nature documentary. The very fine line between what made predators the top of the food chain, and what made prey so dangerous when trying to fight for their life. She knew who she was dealing with, and if she planned this wrong, he could snap her in half all the same.

Hell, it may teach her some manners.

Once she planted her feet on the ground, she kicked Kal on the back of his knee causing him to drop to the ground once again.

‘Ugh!’ He exclaimed, ‘I’m trying to take it easy on you.’ He whimpered, he looked up at her as she stood before him in all her villainy glory.

‘Are you?’ She grabbed his jaw in her claws and lifted him up off of his knees and slammed him against the tree. Long thick tentacles began to arise from her backside and began to slowly journey up his intricate body. She could feel him this way too. Every tentacle had it’s very own series of nerve endings. She could feel his muscles tense and cringe with each touch.

‘Mmph!’ He grunted out, turning his head away as her tongue began to explore the side of his cheek. Her touch, stranger and more foreign than anything he’s fought, made his skin crawl.

‘Oh what’s the matter baby?’ She cooed out, giving him a big toothy grin as her extra limbs wrapped around his thighs and arms, ‘Afraid of a little BDSM?’ She cackled as a final tentacle wrapped around his neck.

Kal did his best trying to tear away from these extra limbs but the inhuman strength they had on him had him questioning his own.

‘Who…are… you?!’ He gritted through his teeth.

‘I’m the best you’ve ever had!’ She said softly as her dainty claws draped from his jaw to his abdomen where she pressed her claw into his flesh.

Kal erupted a loud grunt as his head fell back against the tree. Tears brimmed his eyes for a second at the sudden pain of being stabbed. He hadn’t felt anything like that since… well you know.

‘The best villain. The best teacher… the best— lover.’ She moaned softly before her tongue thrashed once more on the side of his face, tasting his salty sweat.

She slowly pulled her finger out of his abdomen and placed his blood on her tongue. The taste of iron and sweetness danced on her tongue. It had awakened something more salacious inside of her.

‘Mm, and you taste good…let’s see.’ she purred out as she placed her hands on his hips and slowly began to descend to her knees. Her tongue licked at his wound once more, causing Kal to whimper at the tender pain.

‘What are you doing?’ He breathed out as his head hung forward.

‘I hear… you have a woman.. Kal-El.’

Kal jerked as hard as he could against the tentacles but they held him nice and tight, ‘You don’t know anything about me!’

She smirked, looking up at him as she slowly rose to her feet, ‘Oh but I do, my sweet— sweet boy. More than you can imagine.’ A claw scraped down his cheek, cutting his flesh once more as he shut his eyes and gritted his teeth together.

Another taste.

‘I know that… humans… aren’t built to satisfy you. Not like you want to be. I know that you’re also having trouble receiving pleasure because you can’t explore and fulfill your full… potential… ain’t that right, Clark Kent?’

Kal’s head popped up to look at her in her eyes. ‘How do you know that name?’ He gritted through his teeth.

‘I told you sweet pea… I know everything… just like I know—‘ she reached down between them and palmed the semi-hard on that was in his bottoms. He felt massive in her palm.

Kal shut his eyes in defeat as his head fell forward once again.

‘Oh, you don’t have to be ashamed sweetie… it’s natural.’ She cooed as she clawed at the hips of his suit. ‘Just allow me to help you finally conquer your wildest dreams.’ She allowed her tongue to explore him one more time. And this time he didn’t fight, he let out a low sigh as she gently tugged his bottoms down below his hips.

With his member standing at full attention, he was everything she thought he’d be. Veiny and girthy with the length of a well hung porn star and big heavy balls to match.

He was literally perfect.

She dropped to her knees as the symbiote revealed her brown busty breasts. Then, she opened her mouth nice and wide for him as her freakishly long tongue began to tease and caress at the tenderness of his manhood.

Kal’s knees instantly buckled as he watched her tongue flick and lick at his dick before she finally wrapped her warm lips around him and began to suck him off. As she did so, she fondled and toyed with her tits.

Muffled moans escaped his lips as she went to work on him as if she were tryna get paid for it. It felt so damn good but he couldn’t let her know she was doing a good job. Plus, he was cheating on Lois! Was this cheating? He didn’t really want this… did he?

Trembling and flexing thighs were doing just enough telling. But it only encouraged her to snatch his soul from within him. Reaching beneath him, she squeezed his balls gently in her palm as she forced him down her throat.

And my, were they heavy.

‘Oh! —please. Please. Uh!’ He begged as his head lulled back against the tree, eyes crossing inward as he’d seem to lose control of his body. ‘Mm— don’t..‘ he couldn’t even form the words! His mind was so damn jumbled up with a little bit of lust and something else he’s never felt before.

She pulled away, teasingly stroking his member as a thick string of saliva snapped between them. Bubbles and sticky saliva dribbled down her chin to the valley of her pretty brown tits. ‘That’s enough of that.’ She bounced up gently before grabbing his face, forcing him to bring those disgraced eyes to her face.

Her monstrous grill had peeled back and revealed some full, supple lips with pretty white teeth behind them. Lips that just seem so familiar to him. ‘If it’ll make you feel better… I can give you the human body parts… two sets of pretty, soft lips.’ She drug the tip of her tongue against his trembling lips, ‘I’m not gonna hurt you baby. I only wanna make you feel good.’ She said before embracing his cool lips in her warm wet ones.

She slithered her tongue between his teeth, as he finally opened his mouth a little more to let her explore and evade. They both fought for dominance in each other’s mouths. For once, Kal didn’t feel like he needed to take it slow or be careful. He finally felt… free.

When she’d broken the kiss, she turned her backside against him and pushed her hips back against his throbbing cock where she began grinding her ass against him.

Kal’s head fell forward, licking at his lips as he watched her voluptuous ass hug and grind against him desperately. His bright blue eyes dilated with drool falling free from his lips.

Suddenly, the symbiote began to slowly peel away down her spine, exposing her gorgeous tawny brown skin. As she bent over a little, the thick, black sticky flesh peeled back more, revealing her two cute little back dimples before showing off her ass that reminded him of two globes.

Kal began to pant like a thirsty hound, as he writhed a little beneath the symbiote’s grip. Not to get away this time but to fuel his desires and needs. He had never felt such a powerful feeling like this! It was like he was going into heat! It clouded his judgment; making it literally impossible for him to choose between good and bad. An animalistic trait.

Perhaps this was good for him. He needed this release.

But he wasn’t thinking about those he’d hurt in the process… Lois. Or maybe he just didn’t give a shit at that moment.

She’d pressed her backside against him further, feeling the familiar warmth of desire brewing within her womb. Her core of her womanhood became sticky with the thought of his cock stretching her out as she sought to make him fit in every crevice within.

Hymns of purrs and moans escaped her lips as her own teasing began to drive herself nuts. She looked back over her shoulder at Clark who was gone with sexual hunger. She licked at her fingers slowly before descending them down to her pussy.

So turned on by the way he looked at her, she began to rub at her erected numb, collecting some of her sticky nectar and rubbing it out once more.

‘Mmm, you ready to stretch me out?’

Kal tried pulling from the tentacles again, he was practically foaming at the mouth! He gave her a hard nod before he murmured out, ‘Y-yes.’

A licentious grin curled on her lips as she took ahold of his member and caressed that sweet spot where the tip and his shaft intersected. She gave it a gentle squeeze, feeling the stiff muscle throb with mercy in her soft palm.

Kal let out a silent curse, as he balled up his fists.

Standing on her tipping toes, she guided the tip of his cock towards her core before she pushed her hips up against him, forcibly sinking him into herself.

She let out a raspy cry as his member delved and nestled deep against her walls, invading and creating its home within her.

Kal let out an animalistic groan as the symbiote’s hold on him grew tighter as if it wanted them closer together. ‘Uhhhh!’ He moaned as his cheeks burned with a fervidus fever. ‘God!’

‘Nuh uh baby…’ She shuddered out, feeling the numbness from her toes creep and kneaded it’s way into her belly with shocks and tremors of pleasure tingling at her chocolate kisses nipples.

‘Just me.’ She added before she began to slowly throw her ass back against him.

It was at that moment where Kal had completely forgotten about everything and now his main focus was on her. No worries of the world. Not having to worry about his responsibilities as Superman. Not having to worry about simply breaking or killing her because she wasn’t human. He felt like he could truly release the hold that stricken him for the past 40 years.

He deserved this. Or that’s what he was telling himself.

As she and the symbiote worked as one; pushing and pulling her body against him, they both let out a series of moans. She was having a damn good time taking advantage. But Kal on the other hand was becoming too needy and desperate. He wanted to touch her.

‘Release…me…please.’ He begged through his moans, ‘I want… feel. Ugh fuck.’

She muddled and twisted her hips in an arrhythmic dance. And it was driving both of them insane.

‘Uhhh! Please!’ His bright eyes flashed open, looking down at her.

She peered back at him before carefully pulling her hips away. ‘You’re begging… I found you attractive before but now… baby you look so miserable.’ She giggled as she gave the tip of his cock a thump. ‘Sexy as fuck.’

Kal flinched at the addictive pain and moaned. ‘I promise…’ he huffed out, ‘I promise I’ll make it worth your while just… let me.’

She stared at him for a long moment, ‘I suppose.’ She said before waving her hand, ordering the symbiote to release him from the hold. It slowly unwrapped from around his thighs and legs, then his waist and then his arms. He’d collapsed to his hands and knees before her.

She turned around and got on her hands and knees; ass up in the air as she arched her back, like a sleepy feline.

Kal stood up on his knees, grinning with eyes as crazed like a mad man who had just struck gold. He’d placed his large warm hands against her thick thighs and gave them a desperate squeeze. Just as he’d thought, soft like marshmallows.

He pulled her back closer to him before taking a hold of his uncut cock and kissed her slit with the tip of it. She was so sticky, so creamy and messy. He adored it! He wasted no more time before he rammed it into her tight abyss once again.

‘Aaah!’ She moaned out in a harsh gasp.

He began to thrust his hips forward, slowly and teasingly only to get payback.

‘Stop. Being. Oof! A. Teeease and fuck me!’ She moaned out ruggedly.

The symbiote began to wrap itself around him once again. Around his throat and down below at the hilt of his balls.

At the sensitive touch, it only fueled his desires further. All he wanted to do was unleash his full potential and he was going to do that and so much more. So, he began to thrust his hips a little faster and a little harder.

Her wails and cries echoed throughout the woods along with their flesh just crashing into one another like a neutron star collision. There was so much force, so much power… they could terraform this area within the hour!

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck! Kal! Aah! Don’t fucking stop, yes!’ She moaned out as her claws dug within the moist soil beneath them. She could feel him beating down her walls at every angle.

His thumb pads were pressed firmly within her back dimples as he held on to her tightly. ‘Fuck this feels so good!’ His brows tugged into one as he relished in this newfound pleasure. If he ever said sex with Lois was mind blowing like this… boy he was wrong.

He’d just never had his taste at alien pussy before and he knew he couldn’t go back to humans after this. They merely weren’t enough to handle him. Hell, she barely could!

Desperate grunts and howls flowed from Kal’s chest in a string of melodies as he continued to dig his hips into her, pining closer and closer to his release.

That was until he lost his grasp and she tried to crawl away. Trying to take her dominance back. But he merely snatched her back towards him.

‘Where are you going?!’ His tone was dark and filled with bane.

‘Aah!’ She exclaimed as her body began to heat up. ‘KAL-EL! Have mercy!’ She whined out as she reached between her legs and kneaded at her clit.

There was no way she was really asking him for mercy… after her evil ways.

‘No!’ He barked as he pounded harder.

A sick, carnal groan rumbled in her chest as she blissfully took this punishment from him. Sultry and sexy giggles left her lips as they took each other on a wild trip of ecstasy. Fueling each other’s salacious and dark fantasies. Now this was her idea of fun.

After a while, Kal’s groaning had become even more constant with his thrusts becoming staggering with lack of rhythm. He was close.

She began to twerk her ass against him, completely taking over in the final moments. The symbiote began to tighten around his neck and balls, causing a smile of pleasure to curl on his lips.

‘Fuck!’ He cried out as his blue eyes began to roll back. ‘I’m— I’m gonna—‘ he stuttered.

Quickly shifting positions at his announcement, she turned around to face him and wrapped her luscious lips around his member and sucked him clean. She then pulled away allowing her tongue to flick and tease at his tip.

His hips jerked forward as he began to leak on her tongue. ‘Hooo.. that’s it baby.’ As he reached down to cup her jaw before she began to suck him off again.

She throated him one good time before pulling away and jerking him off. Letting out a loud, ‘FUCK!’ His body tensed up as he began to unload thick ropes of cum all over her face. ‘God—mmph!’ He whimpered out as his body trembled from the after shock of the intense orgasm. Tears brimmed at his eyes as he watched her long tongue wipe her face clean of his nut before swallowing all of it whole.

Amazing.

With her claws covered in his semen, she sucked and licked them clean too. He fell to his hands… defeated. There was no way Kal would be okay after this.

Standing to her feet, her symbiote began to close up and fill in the open parts of her, fully becoming whole again.

‘You did well.. son of Krypton.’

He looked up at her with wanderous, adoring eyes. ‘How do you know so much about me?’

‘A girl never tells…’ Then, she heard the sound of shouting and shuffling. ‘I must go.’ She turned around, walking away.

‘Wait!’ Kal exclaimed, reaching out towards her.

She turned halfway, ‘Yes?’

‘What is your name? Will I see you again?’

She walked back towards him and squat down before him. The symbiote began to peel away at her once more, revealing her face. And what Kal caused his heart to stop in his chest.

A woman, beautiful dark curly hair with eyes as brown as honey and thick dark lashes. With a smile that had enchanted him on many occasions. His coworker, Aya.

‘Well you see me all the time, silly.’ She shot him a wink and gave his cheek a pinch. Her voice sounded a little more familiar, but still layered with its voice.

Aya Lionheart. They worked closely together on a couple of projects at the Daily Planet.

Kal couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d always found her to be such an attractive and beautiful person. But he never thought he’d get to sleep with her…not this way— not ever…

And to find out that she was as different as he was. ‘Aya?’

‘In the flesh.’ She stood back up and looked over her shoulder as the men began to gain chase. ‘I’ve got to go… behave… Mr. Kent.’ And she leapt off of the ground and into the trees where she’d disappeared into the forest void.

He felt like his breath was snatched out of his lungs for a moment before he slowly stood to his feet. It was then when he’d realized that his suit was basically torn to shreds. Between her claws and the symbiote ripping at it, he was gonna have to call his mother. But not tonight. He was exhausted. She took it all from him.

‘Hey! Over there!’ Someone shouted.

Kal snapped his head up at the group of people who held weapons up at him. And instead of being diplomatic and trying to investigate, he fled the scene, flying back into the city.

Just a Few Tags: @itsrubberbisquit @critfailroll @headcannonxgalore @ellethespaceunicorn @deandoesthingstome @milknhonies @mayloma @kurokrisps @elfqueen006 @gummydummy19 @ylva-syverson @peternoonewantsthat

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dxckgrxsonx · 2 years

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Quiet Realisations (i)

Pairing - Jason Todd X (F) Reader (Friends to Lovers) Words - 2.6k Warnings - Fluff - Angst - Forehead Kisses - Platonic Affection - Jason Cries - Comfort - Domestic!Jason - Reader plays with Jason’s hair - Swearing. Notes - I’m trapped in a glass case of emotion. This is going to be a series because I have so many different scenes planned out for the Friends to Lovers trope. Plus I wanted to try and write something that would challenge me a little, personally, I don’t think fluff is my strong point. Hope you enjoy!! 💕

PART TWO // MASTERLIST

‘There's something in your throat that wants to get out and you won’t let it.’

You swear it’s not a big deal.

There’s a lump lodging itself in the back of your throat and you find that no matter how hard you try, you can’t quite swallow it down. Fingers shaking like you’re holding onto something heavy, something so scorching hot that you’re convinced it’s going to burn a hole straight through the palm of your hand.

Part of you wants to drop it, nudge it under the sofa and forget about it, pretend it isn’t there–almost like kicking a rouge ice cube under the fridge in the kitchen. But you can’t forget it, can’t swallow the lump from your throat or clip a leash around that endless softness stirring in the pit of your stomach.

It’s not a big deal.

You’ve been close friends for a while now, you know in the back of your head that this is the next logical step forwards.

But god fucking help you, it feels like you’re offering up your soul on a plate.

He’s been here since before dawn.

The latch on your window remains slightly ajar. You find that something in the back of your head protests when you try to close it, digs its heels into the ground and refuses point blank to budge, even though you know that if you were to close it, he would still find his way in.

Something about letting him know that he’s always welcome. That if you close it, it sends him a certain message.

You’ve long since grown accustomed to the quiet click of your window as it opens. Memorised the almost silent pattern of footsteps as someone pads through your living room towards the bathroom. It used to fill you with dread, have you flaring awake neck deep in fight or flight and scrambling for your phone, a weapon, something to offer protection.

But recently, you’ve found that subconsciously your brain no longer registers the noise as a threat.

Still, you always make an effort to wake up, to check for injuries, to make sure he’s okay.

More than once he’s come tumbling through your window gasping for breath, weak, barely conscious and bleeding.

You remember the first few times that happened, the utter panic, the absolute shot of adrenaline punching fiercely through your ribs when you wake to the sound of his body hitting the floor like a complete deadweight.

After the first time, you started stashing first aid kits throughout the apartment. Sometimes you find yourself reaching for the one next to your bed in your sleep, would wake up with the kit clenched tight between your fingers like a lifeline.

Thankfully, this time he’s fine, and you were awake for a mere few minutes before he told you to go back to sleep with that small, tired smile you love so much.

You’ll never admit it.

Not to god, not under torture, not even to your own reflection in the mirror.

But you didn’t sleep until you heard him settle on your sofa and go quiet. You’ve always been more content with the knowledge that he was safe and comfortable than losing a few minutes of extra sleep.

Jason would never admit it either, but he knows that you stay awake and wait for him to drift off. Has known for months that on those nights where he comes to you, you lie in your bed and listen out for him until you’re convinced he’s okay.

You care in quiet ways.

Like stashing first aid kits in your apartment, leaving the latch on the window un-done, and waiting, soft and tired, for him to fall asleep first.

You pad into the living room quietly.

Beelining for the kitchen you smother a yawn into your fist and chance a split second glance to the lump on your sofa. There’s an involuntary quirk of your lips when your eyes settle on him, gaze cataloguing the lazy sprawl of his limbs and the way his hair peeks out at odd angles from underneath the blanket.

Grabbing the sight with both hands you tuck it away, ease it warm and gentle between the smooth curve of your ribs. You exhale—maybe in relief at the sight of him, safe and alive and uninjured for once.

Or maybe, you exhale because looking at him, curled up under your blanket–in your home–is making you a little dizzy.

You breathe oxygen back into your lungs quietly and almost miss the slight change in his breathing. For one horrible moment you think you may have woken him. Jason has always been sensitive to people’s eyes on him, even when he’s sleeping.

You wonder sometimes, if he ever truly gets to rest.

Grabbing something to eat you wander back, and pull up short when you feel his gaze on you. There’s a strange look on his face you don’t see often, a flicker of something opening, it’s almost like looking at your window in the early hours of the morning, cracked open at the bottom and letting the cold air sweep in.

“Hey.” You smile, voice soft with sleep.

A small smile tips up Jason’s mouth in return and you find that your goddamn traitorous heart skips a beat.

Plonking yourself down directly on Jason’s stomach you take a big bite of your cereal bar and turn your head to glance at him, “You’re not very comfortable.”

Shifting so he lays flat on his back Jason grunts and plucks the cereal bar straight out of your greedy fingers, “Good. I hope sitting on me brings you incredible pain.” Shovelling the rest of the bar into his mouth he throws the wrapper at the side of your head.

Rolling your eyes you sweep the wrapper onto the floor, “Real mature.”

Shuffling around you settle with your thighs bracketing Jason’s hips. Smothering another yawn into your hands you squint when a beam of early morning sunlight streaks through your curtains and into your eyes.

Resting on your knees you lean over Jason’s head to tug them closed. Curling your fingers into the rough fabric you wobble, slightly unbalanced before firm fingers skirt over your ribcage and hold you in place.

There’s a flutter of your pulse at the feel of Jason's warm hand cupping your side. His thumb strokes gently over the curved bones and part of you feels like you’re going to turn to liquid and slip straight through his fingers.

You swallow and your voice comes out thick, “Thanks.”

Jason tightens his grip, “No problem.”

Leaning back and settling into place once more you stare at Jason’s hair, the strands sticking out at various angles from where it’s been trapped under his helmet on patrol, then ruffled as he’s slept. Your fingers itch with the urge to comb through the messy strands, mouth pressing into a barely controlled line.

“Jay,” You start, and you feel his attention swing to you. Humming non-sequentially as an answer he waits patiently, eyes slipping shut. “Can I please, please, please sort your hair out. You look like you’ve been struck by lightning.”

One side of his mouth hooks up in a crooked grin, one eye opening and flicking upwards, “You think mine is bad? You should look at yours.”

“You first.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, almost like you’ve wounded him, but he nods non-the-less.

Reaching out tentatively, you brush through the bone white streak first, fingers catching in the tangles and tugging them loose. Using your free hand you cup Jason’s face, thumb resting along his strong jawline to keep his head still as your other hand slowly works through his hair.

Pulling at a particularly stubborn knot Jason hisses through his teeth.

“Be quiet,” You mumble, slightly distracted, focused. “M’almost done, two more minutes, okay?” You feel his eyebrow quirk up against the pads of your fingers and a stupid smile curves your lips. “Put that thing down or so help me.”

Jason laughs and you feel the vibrations through your thighs, “Y’don’t scare me.”

It’s involuntary. You do it without thinking. In the back of your head, you wonder if someone has gone in and switched off half of your brain, the part that controls critical thinking. It’s knee jerk, reflective in that strange way people can do things on autopilot.

You pull his hair.

And witness something incredible.

Jason chokes back a groan, the sound trapped and desperate behind his teeth. His pupils blow wide, pretty colour swallowed by something heated, something you’ve never been before. Your breath comes out short, you feel almost giddy at his reaction, like you’re on top of the goddamn world.

Going to open his mouth you move your thumb from his jaw and press it against his plush lips, “Shush, I warned you. Now let me finish.”

Without missing a beat Jason bites your thumb, teeth sinking in hard enough to leave a perfect indent behind. His eyes are almost glittering and you grab his jaw between your thumb and forefinger.

“Todd,” You growl, squeezing tightly enough to get your message across. “Stop being a child.”

Holding him in place you comb your fingers through his hair one last time, satisfied as your fingers run through without catching on any tangles. Tugging at the white streak you twist the strands around your finger until it falls in a perfect little curl.

“There,” You declare, letting him go and leaning back. “Pretty as a picture.”

Standing side by side in the kitchen you and Jason work together to clean and dry the dishes. Looking over at him out of the corner of your eye you can’t help but think that domesticity suits him.

Sure, you’ve seen him decked out in his full Red Hood gear, kevlar plates, holsters filled with guns and a scary amount of knives tucked in his combat boots. You’ve seen him tall and broad shouldered and dangerous. But there’s something soft, something aching like a day old bruise at the sight of him in sweatpants and a hoodie helping you wash the dishes.

He suits being soft.

Jason fits into your space like a perfect puzzle piece, slots into the gap you never noticed was missing. He tucks his various angles into your home without a scratch and scathingly, you realise he’s managed to fold himself up small and quiet beside your heart.

Forearm deep in hot soapy water your eye catches his sleeve slipping.

Dropping the cloth from your hands you lean over and push his sleeve back into place, making sure to fold the elastic over his elbow so it doesn’t slip down again. A quick, pleased hum rumbles through your chest and you go back to drying the dishes again without a word.

“Thanks.” Jason mumbles.

There's something different in his voice but you can’t pinpoint what it is, his words are a little thicker than normal, his accent slightly more noticeable. You realise then, that he’s stopped what he’s doing. Goosebumps prickle over his skin and you think he’s cold, think that the slight breeze from the unlatched window in your living room is making him chilly.

A few weeks ago, whilst you were on your way home from work, you stopped to get something, something that at the time didn’t seem like such a big deal. It’s a practical gift, it’s nothing massively important or sentimental.

But it means something.

“Oh, no problem.” You answer, grabbing the next dish from the pile. “What time are you heading out?”

“Trying to get rid of me?” Jason grins, but you see the quick flash of uncertainty across his face. You find yourself wanting to soothe it as quickly as possible.

“Nah, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.” Putting away the dried dishes and cutlery you press your hip into the counter. “Jus’ curious that's all. Do I have enough time to grab a shower?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly leaning forwards Jason reaches out, and tenderly tucks a flyway strand of hair behind your ear. His hand, warm from the water lingers by your face, in a moment of weakness he cups your cheek and smooths his thumb across the skin under your eye.

“M’sorry for waking you up.” He whispers and you shake your head.

“You’ve nothing to apologise for, Jason.” There’s a firmness to your voice that doesn’t come out often. “I don’t mind one bit. I’d rather you come here than anywhere else.” Grabbing his wrist, you press your fingers against his pulse point, feeling the quick thud thud thud of his heartbeat. “I mean it, you don’t ever have to be sorry about coming here.”

Jason nods, and you watch as he swallows before letting his hand drop away.

Silently, you mourn the loss of his warmth.

Dressed in his Red Hood gear minus the helmet Jason waits by the window.

The latch remains undone, and you feel the chill of Gotham sweep through the apartment as soon as you open your bedroom door. Clenched tight in your hand is the thing you stopped for weeks ago. It’s sat in your bedside table for almost a week straight and every time you’ve thought about it you’ve tried to say it's not a big deal.

But it is a big deal.

Part of you wants to swallow it, maybe throw it away and forget you ever went out of your way to get it. But that other part, the soft part that brushes up against that quiet folded person beside your heart, protests the very thought of throwing it away.

Coming to a stop in front of him you fight to find your voice, “I’ve got something for you.” You start, and your voice shakes. “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, okay?”

Jason does a funny thing then, he reaches for you, then yanks himself back.

“Okay.”

Unfurling your fist, you grip the object between your trembling fingers and hold it out.

A key for your apartment.

Jason studies your face intently and you notice that his hands are shaking slightly.

“Thought it would be easier for you than climbing through my window. M’not exactly on the ground floor.” You know your voice sounds unsure, a note of nervousness settling heavy like a stone on your tongue. “You don’t have to take it, okay? I just–”

Your words trail off. It feels like you’re prying open your ribs.

“I just want you to know that you can come here whenever you want, for however long you want.” You open your mouth to speak again but your throat closes up, you think you’re on the verge of crying. “This can–”

Jason looks into your eyes, his face is serious but his dark lashes are wet.

You swallow, “This can be your home too.”

He takes the key from your fingers and folds it tight into his fist, like he never wants to let it go. There’s a split second where everything is silent, it’s as if someone sucked the air from the room and left you in freefall. The next Jason is saying your name, his voice wet and shaking.

“I don’t–”

“It’s okay.” You smile softly when his voice breaks. “Hey. It’s okay, I promise.”

Stepping forwards you reach out with both hands and take his face between your palms. His skin is warm and you fight back the tears building along your lashes when Jason closes his eyes, and lets his tears spill down his cheeks and over your fingers.

“Oh sweetheart,” You breathe, “It’s okay.”

Thumbing them away you tip his head down and press a tender kiss to his forehead.

It’s not a big deal.

But it is.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #dcu fanfic #dcu fanfiction #jason todd friends to lovers #jason todd series #ella writes

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alexandthensome · 1 year

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Who You Gonna Call?

Chapter 1: Something Strange DC x DP Fic based off this post

Warnings: Major Character Death, Strong Language, Depictions of Violence

Rating: Mature

Author’s Note: For those who have been waiting for forever I apologize for how long it took me to crank out this one chapter this is my first time writing a Fic so any constructive criticism helps, also thank you soo much for the support ❤️. Update On Chapter 2 of “Who You Gonna Call?” It’s knots done jut need to finish a few final touches should be posted by Friday of Next Week

When you think about it, peace will never be the outcome. Not for him, not anymore.

Not while his Parents lay dead at his feet, not while his sister sobbed helplessly; never again will Danny Fenton ever know a peaceful life.

But he’s okay with that; he’s come to terms with how things stood and knew there wasn’t much left to figure out besides where he will go now.

He never thought he’d have to plan a life without his parents, never suspected that this family vacation would be the last.

Nor did he expect his sister to go from “Annoying Older Sibling.” To “My Only Living Family Member.” in less than a day.

This was inevitable with his line of work, but he never expected his life to be this crazy, at least not so soon.

For him, being half ghost used to feel like a gift, something he could use to help the people he cared about the most. Now it was a curse, a cancerous infection slowly seeping into everything he held close.

Because of his “gift.” everyone and everything he knew was gone, replaced by this empty confusing nothingness, all their hopes and dreams for him nothing more than lost memories.

His parents were gone, taken from him in some brutal twist of fate by some psychopathic clown they call “The Joker.” to be completely honest, Danny was feeling anger beyond rational thought every time he thought about him.

And the worst part about this was that everything everything that happened was all a ploy, some sort of elaborate trick to lure Batman to his hideout, and The Fenton’s were nothing more than pawns in The Joker’s scheme to kill him.

Not only did he kill his parents, but he did it with a smile as he made Danny watch, laughing at his suffering until he got what he wanted.

Danny was taken to the police station and asked to state what he experienced while begging held hostage by the Joker, but all he could do was stare blankly at the wall.

As he got interviewed by the police, news anchors, and other journalists, all he could think about was how he everyone down. His frustration was building up under the surface, and he felt sick.

“How could I let this happen.” he thought.

His mind raced, his fingers felt numb, his chest heaved as if something was blocking his airway, and he felt like everything around him was closing in. The walls began to spin, and he could feel his throat closing up, tears welling in his eyes.

Jazz noticed his strange behaviour and tried her best to get him to calm him down, but the panic had already set in.

They were alone, he let this happen, and there was nothing he could do to fix this. Nothing at all

Dozens of forced statements later, Danny was drained.

Despite being the “Hero.” he was, he couldn’t help but feel so incredibly useless. They kept asking him the same questions repeatedly until the words melted into nothingness, his brain felt like swiss cheese, and he thought he would pass out at any second.

Jazz had to handle all of the legal proceedings, taking her parent’s estate, medical bills, funeral expenses, and everything else; She was overwhelmed, to say the least.

She had no idea what to do once they were done with the police, they had nowhere to go, and beyond that, they had nobody to help them.

Her head was swimming, and for a split second, she broke; Danny noticed his sister sobbing and went in to hug her.

“I’m sorry this happened, Jazz, really I am. I wish I could trade my life for theirs; I would,” he said, tears streaming down his face.

“Hey, I know this everything is so crazy, but don’t blame yourself for what happened. There’s nothing more you could’ve done, okay?” she replied, rubbing his head to soothe him.

“but I let everyone down. I’m the reason they’re dead; if I don’t do something to avenge them, then-” he said rapidly, beginning to panic again.

“Enough, no more vengeance, no more self-blame. You’re just a kid. Nobody should’ve put that responsibility on you-.” she tried to explain, reaching out to touch his shoulder.

“That doesn’t matter anymore, Jazz. I’m not a kid anymore; I think I need to go for a walk and clear my head,” he said, pushing her off his and heading towards the door.

Jazz called out for him, but he was gone before she could get a word out.

As he walked the streets of Gotham City, he felt angry; at the world and at himself; he even felt anger towards his parents for suggesting this stupid trip. He wanted nothing more than to change the way things are right now, be somewhere different, and do something right for once.

He didn’t know what to do with himself; he walked around aimlessly for what felt like hours, looking for something, anything to do. He needed someone save; he wanted something to fight, anything in the world that would take his mind off things for a second.

all of a sudden, a blue mist leaves his mouth

“Finally.” he thought to himself

He changed into his ghost form quickly, and he waited. The tension in the air is thick, and he slowly looks around, hoping to see whatever is watching him.

“Don’t you know this place isn’t safe after dark?”

Danny looked around, trying to see where the voice came from,

“If I were you, I’d just turn around and head back home.”

“And why should I listen to you, wise and powerful shadow man?” Danny replied sarcastically

suddenly, he saw something jump from the fire escape down to the ground in front of him. He didn’t expect him to make that fall, let alone get up that easily.

He stood there frozen as the figure approached him, wearing a red helmet, a leather jacket, black pants, and a shirt with a red bat.

“I’ve heard of you before; you’re Red Hood, right?” Danny asked nonchalantly, trying to cut the tension of the situation

“In the flesh, and you’re that ghost kid “Phantom.” right?” he replied as he stepped closer to Danny, cornering him into a wall.

“Uh, Yep, in the flesh.” He said with a nervous chuckle

Danny was terrified; after the last couple of days he’s had, he didn’t want to take any chances with any more of the heroes or villains in Gotham.

Red Hood had him backed to a wall, his hand on the right side of Danny’s face.

“What’s your deal anyways, ghost boy? You want to run around being a vigilante, too?” he said, leaning in.

“I-I’ve been a vigilante since the 9th grade,” he stuttered. “And for the record, I don’t need your permission to do anything, so why would you expect me to ask for it?.”

“Because if you don’t, I get to kick your ass and have you arrested for breaking curfew.” He replied

Danny chucked, “finally.”, he thought, “a reason to punch someone in the face.”

“respectfully, I’d like to see you try,” he said, cockiness radiating from his voice.

“fine, it is your funeral.”

@blackrabbitt3t @nedwec @blackstar-gazer @baykitthings @real-danny-phantom @hungrymentor @the-lokes @dizzydreamerzzz @phantom-phrases @sheep567 @lenoryt13 @theauthorandtheartist

@phantomskeep @arc-777 @dreamingasters @betinaplayingwriter @zeldomnyo @jaguarthecat @the-gay-florist @reinluna @gabrielandjackthenephilim @icepopstar5105us @skulld3mort-1fan

@batbootie @that-random-fangirl@cyber-geist@dat1angel@undead-essence@distractedducky@oddessy@dreamingasters@jarlyd@

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pekejscatbed · 2 months

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Lazy Day | Slade Wilson x gn! Reader

DAD BOD SLADE SUPREMACY HE IS A DILF HE IS DADDY SO WHERE THE FUCK IS HIS TUMMY GIVE MY FAVORITE OLD MAN THE BIG ASS STOMACH HE DESERVES YOU COWARDS- *cough cough* sorry guys, idk where that came from :/

info/warnings: gender neutral reader, soft Slade, cuddles, reminiscing, domestic fluff, weight gain, Slade has a dad bod and you can pry that headcanon from my cold dead hands

batman masterlist

———

You lay in bed together, Slade sitting up against the pillows in a pair of black boxer briefs and nothing else, and you partially on top of him, face buried in his naked stomach as he gently runs his fingers through your hair.

Slade has gained weight since the two of you met, with you cooking for him on his days away from the mercenary life and keeping him well fed. His stomach is bigger now after the couple of years you've been together, now rounder than when the two of you went on your first date and hanging down over his hip line. He's still strong, muscles still as big as they were years ago- bigger, even- but now they're covered in layers of fat that you absolutely adore; you love the weight he's gained, love the way his arms are now squishy when you hold onto him in public, love watching the small jiggle to his thighs when he walks around the house in nothing but his boxers, love burying your face into his growing tummy on lazy days like today, like you are now.

"Hm?" You tilt your head up as you exit your mind, thoughts dissipating as you look up at Slade in question.

"Asked what you're thinking about, sweetheart." His voice is soft as he repeats himself, looking down at you and smiling when your eyes meet his one green eye.

You smile back, humming softly. "You."

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angelkissiies · 2 years

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Closed hand or open fist

the joker x reader

TW : massive trigger warning for most things in this story. implied non-con. male masturbation. blood kink. extreme violence. trauma kink. stockholm syndrome development. glorified abuse. cutting/stabbing. branding in a sense. im sure there’s more im forgetting but please proceed with caution! minors dni, 18+ please.

part 1/?

word count : 2709

The breath caught in your throat, chest heaving with enough force to send you to the ground if you hadn’t been strapped painfully tight to the freezing metal chair. What was just a normal night shift at the hospital turned into everyone in Gotham's worst nightmare, as you clocked out and headed out to your car- you were chloroformed and stuffed into the trunk of a nearby Cadillac. Which brought you into the moment now, half aware and half filled with terror at the sight of the man in front of you. You knew of him, seeing as his men had hired you for a job and by hired, you meant that they threatened to kill your family if you didn’t follow through with his orders. That being said, you had never actually seen the man. As you took him in, your eyes lingered on the harsh protruding scars around his mouth. No amount of describing would ever be able to properly illuminate the aura of darkness that shrouded the man, from head to toe he exuded terror.

His voice carried through the desolate room, devoid of all signs of human life. You'd have thought this was hell if you didn’t know any better. The smell of standing water and moss filled your nostrils as the door swung closed behind him. Well, well, well.” He licked his lips, giving a rugged smile as he bent down to your height momentarily. “I thought... No, I know... I told you.” tsk, tsk, tsk. In the same fashion a parent would scold a child, his words were filled with something more than disappointment, regret if you didn’t know any better.

“Please, I messed up. I’m sorry.” You whispered, words hanging helplessly in the dim light of the nearby window. From the island, you could hear the noise from the city. Honking, sirens, things you'd probably never hear again. It had been your one job, to get your hands on the interface for WayneTech. The interface would’ve given his men the ability to find the signals The Batman was working off of and take him down, that was if they could even get their hands on it. That's why it was your job, from the outside you were just a nurse- but over the past couple of years, you had begun to secure a gig as a house call nurse for Bruce Wayne himself. That gave you the access, you just had to manage to pull it off. Obviously, you had failed.

The Joker was known for his thin patience, which only made sense now as you finished your sentence his fist made contact with your jaw, sending the chair and yourself teetering backward. He managed to snag it before it fell, jerking you upright at a nauseating speed. “Nuh-uh, nope. Not this time, doll.” He chuckled, cracking his knuckles as he stretched his fingers out. They were covered in bruises and dried blood, his movements opening recent cuts. He didn’t seem to care, his eyes focused on the blood that had begun to pour from your mouth. It was an unnatural red, like the red he painted his lips searching for the dopamine rush that followed fresh blood.

You felt dazed, in all honesty- you’d never been hit before and god, it was much worse than you could’ve imagined. Your head spun, the iron leaving a sickening feeling on your tongue as it fell from your lips to stain your scrubs. “Pl..-” You tried to form words but the ache in your jaw was too painful, sending shooting pain as you opened and closed your mouth. Was he going to kill you? Maybe. He was known for playing with his food and toying with his victims before finding the worst possible way to end their lives. You could only imagine the horror awaiting you as he paced back and forth, his eyes never leaving your mouth.

He bent down close to your face, hand grabbing a chunk of your hair and yanking back to make you look him in the eye. He inched closer and closer until you could feel his breath fan against your face. The proximity made your stomach churn, moving your eyes from his in an attempt to distance yourself. “You…” He muttered, barely audible as his tongue flattened out against your jawline, lapping up a stream of blood that trailed to the corner of your lips. A guttural sound left his lips as he pulled away, now tinted a darker red than normal. “You taste almost too good to kill.” He smirked, using the pad of his thumb to smudge the blood along your obviously broken jaw. It hung bruised and limp, trembling slightly due to your anxiety.

“Do you know what you’ve cost me?” The man prodded, moving to grip your chin roughly. That itself prompted a painful scream to fall from your lips, the striking ache in your jaw magnified by ten times. It was enough to make you begin to cry, the tears had been fought off for so long because of the shock of it all but as the pain sank in, that all changed. There were streams of hot tears running down your face as the man watched in pure delight. Your pain was a drug to him. Every scream, every whimper, every tear. It was orgasmic.

You gave him a feeble nod, spitting blood out of your mouth to avoid choking on it. “I’ll.. fix.. It.” You manage, shuttering as you feel the blood run down your neck. It was a disgusting feeling, even though it was your own blood. It was thick and hot, mixed with saliva to some degree. It just felt violating to be marinating in your own bodily fluids. “I… I swear.” You meant it, if he let you live, you’d do whatever it took to get the interface. Hell, you’d even sleep with Bruce if that's what had to happen.

The Joker licked his lips, smirking lightly as he jostled your face slightly before jerking his hand away. Soaking up the look that crossed your face as you bit back another scream. “Oh yeah? You mean that?” He took a step back from you, eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of you. A disheveled mess, but not nearly as black and blue as he liked his women. What a shame, he could surely fix that with no problem, right? Before you could even suck in a breath, his fist made a home in your eye socket with the force of god himself.

The pressure was enough to make you almost vomit, the chair shaking erratically on two legs as it fought to stay upright. Your vision went in and out, blurring due to what you could only assume were a couple of broken blood vessels in your eye. Ragged gasps left your mouth, your body trembling as the throbbing began. It took only a few seconds for your eye to swell up enough to make it impossible to open or close. Your hands pulled at the restraints, wanting badly to curl up in a ball and comfort yourself.

“Look at me.” He demanded, wiping away some sweat from his brow that in turn wiped away some of his face paint.

Barely able to lift your head, you looked at him. One eye was swollen shut and turning a sicky blue, your jaw hanging limply with a bruise the size of a peach blossoming, you were covered in a thick layer of sweat and blood that stained your work scrubs and tinted your skin. If he’d hit you anymore than he had, you’d probably look like a walking corpse. The thought almost made him giggle, that was, if he wasn’t thinking about the way your blood had tasted on his tongue. His thoughts had strayed from pure torture to his own form of torture porn. His brain was developing sick fantasies of ways he could utilize you. With a broken jaw, he thought of just how wide your mouth could open. Of the pain you’d feel as he throat fucked you as rough as he could, getting off at the sound of your cries as his cock hit the joint that had cracked under his pressure.

The man pushed your shirt up, until it rested on your chest- uncovering your stomach only. The exposure made you shiver slightly, goosebumps rising on your skin as you watched his movements. From his pocket, he pulled something silver that glinted in the light the window provided. “Have you ever wondered how farmers figure out which cattle are theirs when they share communal fields with other farmers?” He asked, the question seeming completely random at such a time.

“No?”

“Well, they use something to mark their cattle. Some farmers like brands, others use tags. Understand? It’s not about making the cattle comfortable, but making them noticeable. You have to know it as soon as you see them or else it's a failure.” The man was so close you could feel the way his hands shook, and telling from his expression it wasn’t out of fear or pain, but out of excitement. Pure adrenaline coated joy was the source of his tremors, which didn’t make sense until you felt something sharp and cold press into your ribcage.

The tip of a knife.

From his pocket, he had drawn a switchblade which he now held to your warm skin- a nagging temptation to just end it now. The ache in his hands begged him to plunge the knife in, to watch the horror on your face as life drained from your body. The idea made his body tense up, blood flooding his cock as it grew in his dusty slacks. The images flashed through his head, fucking into you as you slowly bled to death. Your last living memory of being used by The Joker himself felt like the ultimate sin, it was something he could barely get his mind off of as he pushed the tip of the knife into your skin.

A feral groan left his mouth as blood began to pour from the open wound. It was so fresh, the warm liquid coating his fingers as he tore through the flesh. Every movement made you cry out, adding to his mental store of mastubation material. Your body shook under his touch, cringing away from the pain as he kept going. He was taking his time, going slowly to draw out the raw ecstasy he felt listening to your pathetic whimpering. “You are my cattle now, doll. Understand?” He grunted, chest heaving as he pulled the knife away. On your ribcage sat a capital ‘J’ as a claiming brand, you now belonged to The Joker. One of his many pets, someone he was going to manipulate for the rest of your days on this earth. God help you.

“Y-yes.” You sputtered, taking shallow breaths as the blood loss began to set in. Black spots clouded your vision as you swayed in and out of consciousness. On the floor around you was a large puddle of your blood, more than the amount that was healthy to lose in one sitting- you knew that for sure. Even if you weren’t a nurse, that was still way too much. If you could look in a mirror, you were more than sure that you looked like death itself. A walking reminder of who ran this city.

A sinister smile took to his lips as he nodded gently, “That’s a good girl.” He praised the faux care in his voice causing a knot to form in your stomach. You hated him but you were made to worship him. From the moment you’d begun to work for him, all other things dissolved away. Your life revolved around him now. “Oh boys!~” He sang out, his voice echoing through the empty halls of the old Arkham Asylum.

Was it over?

Two large men in masks came through the door, guns strapped to their hips. They said nothing as they moved across the room, avoiding eye contact with their boss as they unstrapped your arms from the chair. They were the same men from earlier tonight, the two that had haphazardly tossed you into the trunk of a car to bring you to this hellhole. They brought you to your feet, hoisting you up as they drug you out of the room. The ache had begun to settle in your bones, exhaustion coated terror clouding your mind as your slipped from consciousness- left to the mercy of two masked goons.

The Joker watched them take you away, jaw clenching as he saw the way you slumped into their arms. As the door closed, he released a shaky breath. He was alone now, the building had only occupied him and his two men he’d requested to work tonight as his sole goons. Usually, he’d have his entire group here, but he was beyond happy for the solitary confinement of it all. It gave him time to think, it was disgusting- he knew that. That’s why he liked it so much, he was much more of a sicko than most of Gotham knew. He knew one thing for sure, he couldn’t stop fantasizing about the way your blood would coat his cock like a makeshift lubricant. How he could fuck your throat no problem with how much blood had collected in your cheeks, how he didn’t even have to get you wet to take his cock. All he had to do was rub your blood down the shaft and force it in. You’d loosen up eventually for him. You’d grow accustomed to his size and the pain would subside, though he wasn’t sure he wanted it to. He was dying to hear the cries for help that would leave your lips as he bent you over the window seal- pushing you dangerously close to the edge as he took advantage of you. So far from the city that no one could hear you, but so close you could hear the distant sounds of life.

He stepped toward the chair you had been taken from, sitting down in the puddle of your blood that had begun to dry on the metal surface. It seeped into the material of his pants, the now cooled liquid dripping down his thighs as it searched for its home on the floor. His hand trailed down to his crotch, his slacks painfully tight. The man pulled his belt off, discarding it absentmindedly as he made haste to pull his cock free from its restraints. The cool air made him tense up, goosebumps arising on his exposed skin. A deep groan left his mouth as he spread the precum that accumulated on the tip, the sensation sending a jolt through his body. His hand dropped down onto the floor, fingers dipping into the puddle of blood before reconnecting with his stiff cock. The dark red liquid dripped down the shaft, the sight itself enough to make him come unraveled.

His free hand searched his front pocket, pulling out his phone. He turned the camera around on himself, hitting record as he began to pleasure himself. Hand pumping up and down on his cock, elicitng the most erotic noises he’d ever made. The blood was so slick, he could almost imagine how fresh blood would feel. His stomach contracted, head falling back as he recalled those noises he drew out of you earlier. Every whimper you’d let out from his touch, the way your screams sent a thrill throughout his body. He wanted that again, he wanted you back. If he didn’t stop himself, he probably would male his men bring you right back. The idea of locking you up here with him, no escape and no way to say no. A moan slipped through his lips, abs tensing as strings of hot cum shot from his cock. He kept stroking himself, milking every ounce of cum he could. The phone trembled in his hands slightly as he stopped the video, letting himself slump back against the chair. He looked no better than you did, coated in cum and blood as he thought about his next moves.

“Fuck.”

#the joker smut #the joker #heath ledger #the batman #the dc universe #DCU #dcu fanfic #the batman 2022 #dick greyson #jason todd #poison ivy #harley quinn #killer croc #smut #trauma smut #dark fic #the joker x reader #Heath ledger joker x reader #joker x reader

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jasntodds · 10 months

Text

Too Heavy | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: @just-lost-inbetween-worlds : Can I get Jason Todd (doesn’t matter which version) with the prompts: bloodied knuckles, wiping the others tears away, as well as crying into their chest. Maybe bloodied knuckles bcs of punching something in a mental breakdown and then the rest happens. Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompts

Summary: Sometimes things get a little too heavy for Jason

Warnings: Angst, blood, mentions of death, mental breakdown, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,802

A/n: I was listening to a lot of Too Heavy by The Plot In You while I wrote this so here we are lol If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @peteprkerlibrary !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

Everyone has bad days. They come and they go. It gets better. It always gets better. But for Jason, his bad days are sometimes so rough and harsh, the world collapses from under him. He falls through the cracks into a black abyss, surrounded by every failure he’s ever had. He falls and falls and falls until he finally hits the bottom and the wind is sucked from his lungs in a hard smack. Leaving him alone in the pitch black coldness. Today is one of those days.

He’s just gotten back from patrol and he was quiet not to wake you. He walks steadily to the bathroom but his thoughts are circling the drain. Every step he takes is like twenty pounds added to his ankles and another thought joins the damned ride. Jason’s chest grows heavy as he finally reaches the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind him.

The worst nights of patrol involve kids and tonight did. It’s always the most innocent of people that get to him. Most nights, he can handle it because it’s part of the job. It’s one of the reasons he puts the helmet on every night. But tonight is different. Tonight is different because it didn’t have the hopeful ending it should have and it’s not fucking fair.

Jason’s hands grip the bathroom counter so hard he thinks he might shatter it in his palms. He almost hopes he does. He looks at himself in the mirror, his back slightly hunched over and he looks hollow. A discarded shell of who he should have been. And he can’t stand it. His head spins while his eyes slam shut and his grip tightens harder against the cool stone.

His chest starts to heave as his breathing quickens. His chest grows heavy and he wants to start ripping out every single one of his organs in hopes it’ll lift some of the weight. The heaviness is suffocating and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this would be his end.

But he knows better.

And this is the never-ending hell he’s trapped in while the inability to save the kids tonight triggers memories to flood back like overflowing rivers in a flash flood.

There’s the echo of metal on concrete seeping into his blood stream and that menacing laugh that never should be called a laugh beats against his eardrum. The feeling of the panic he felt that day wraps him in a cruel and painful hug as if to be living off of his inability to breathe properly. Images of the Joker and the look on his mom’s face flash across his eyes and he can’t take the heaviness of it all anymore.

The grief he suffers with is nearly paralyzing and it is agonizing. They say grief gets better but when is it that supposed to happen? Because it’s been years and he can’t breathe and he wants to rip his lungs out of his chest just to feel anything other than this. He was just a kid.

Jason was a just a kid.

Tears burn his eyes, one slipping by and sliding down his cheek and he grits his teeth so hard they nearly shatter under the pressure. All he wants is for it all to stop for even a second. He wants one damn second of relief.

He looks up at his own reflection once more and he can see some bruising from last week and he hates it. The white streak in his hair almost seems whiter in the light of the bathroom and he hates it. He hates it. He hates it and he can’t do it. He punches the mirror in a quick motion, just once and it shatters into the sink and over the counter.

“Fuck.” Jason groans because he knows it was loud and he can’t stop the tears now. They’re drenching his face and his breathing is racing, quivering.

Blood spills into the sink as Jason hovers his shaking hand over it. Not a single part of him even cares or pays the stinging any mind. All he can do is try his best to breathe and shake his thoughts away but nothing works. They’re still there. Flashing across his eyes like lightning in the middle of a raging storm.

His legs start to feel weak as if he’s just gotten done running for miles on end. It’s getting harder to stand the more he tries to fight his own breath and thoughts. His head spins and he his stomach turns and twists into gnawing nausea. And he can’t even be bothered to stand anymore because that is just getting too damn hard too. His own body is growing too heavy with every passing thought and he swears that’s some sort of cruel joke.

Jason sits on the floor against the counter, hanging his head and pulling his knees up to his chest. Tears fall down his cheeks and he tries to fight them off with every thought he has but nothing works. They fall anyway, staining his cheeks in a wet mess.

“Jason?” You call from outside the door.

The shattering of glass woke you up and for a few seconds, you thought someone had actually broken in. And you were nearly frozen, stuck thinking if you had a weapon of any sort in the bedroom you could use. But then those seconds faded and you didn’t hear footsteps or shuffling through the apartment. You didn’t hear anything and when you checked the time to see it was after three, you knew.

“Jay?” You call again, knocking on the door gently when he doesn’t answer.

Your groggy voice breaks his heart. He never meant to wake you up.

Jason slides his hands over his face and clears his throat. “Go back to bed, sweetheart.” Jason tries to stabilize his voice but you can hear the weakness and quiver. He’s mastered the art of hiding pain but not disguising the pain of crying.

Taking the knob in your hand, you twist it slowly, gently pushing the door open. You spot Jason still in his Red Hood gear, minus the helmet, sitting on the floor with drops of blood on the floor. He keeps his head hung and his forearms on his knees. You spot blood on his knuckle with open wounds before you see the broken mirror and your heart just breaks for him.

You step in slowly and cautiously as if moving too quickly will make him dissolve right into the floor. “Hey,” You crouch down beside him, tilting your head to try and get a look at his face that’s covered by his messy hair. “What happened, Jay?”

“I’m fine.” Jason forces the words from the back of his throat and he hates how weak they sound.

You don’t like the answer because anyone who’s fine doesn’t break a mirror. Anyone who’s fine doesn’t sit on the bathroom floor at three in the morning with bloody knuckles crying. He’s not fine but Jason has never been very good at admitting to anyone when he’s not. He’d rather drown than ask for a life preserver.

You move in front of him, sitting on your knees. You reach out cautiously, putting your hands on his wet cheeks. Jason’s eyes shut down hard with your touch and you’re so gentle with him. Why? What’s he done to deserve it?

You pick his head up softly and Jason lets you. His eyes are bloodshot as he looks at you. His pretty blue eyes are now a haunting shade of navy, like the sky over the ocean in the middle of hurricane. Why does the world treat him with such cruelty?

“Please, go back to bed.” He nearly begs you because you shouldn’t have to deal with all of his trauma.

It’s not fair for you to lose sleep over him. He swears you shouldn’t and you don’t deserve it. All he wants is to be alone with his grief. If anyone has to suffer what he went through, it has to be him. It can’t involve you. Not you.

But you’re stubborn and that thing in your chest beats endlessly for him.

You can see his chest moving harshly with every breath and he might be Red Hood but he was Jason Todd first. A kid trying to survive the best he could. A kid who just wanted to learn and be a kid. Smart mouth and relentless as hell. But a kid no one looked out for. Red Hood looks out for so many people, but who’s supposed to look out for Jason Todd?

“Please, I’m fine.” Jason voice finally cracks as a tear escapes his bottom lid. “Just go to bed. I’ll be there a minute.”

You move your hands from his cheeks and he thinks, for a second that for once, you might actually listen to him. And he’d be lying if that didn’t hurt, too. But, it’s you and you were never very good at following his instructions even on good days so you move closer to him and stretch out your arms.

“Come here, Jay.” Your voice is soft, etched in worry and love.

He’s reluctant at first because he knows if he does, he’ll lose it entirely. Every piece of him that’s been able to hold in a sob will finally crack and that’ll be it. But he sees the worry in every tired line of your face and you always look so inviting.

“I’m worried about you. Please.” You plead with him, your voice cracking with a mix of tiredness and sadness. And Jason can’t hold it in anymore because you’re worried about him.

Jason moves his legs and moves closer to you, resting his head against your chest because at his point, it’s all too heavy for him to even try for a proper hug. And folding into you seems a hell of a lot easier for everyone. You wrap one arm around his side and rest your other hand in his hair. And just like he breaks.

A sob rips through his throat, echoing through the bathroom and you have to swallow the lump that forms in your throat. He shakes against you, sliding his hands to your back and holding onto your shirt. His grip is tight as if he’s stuck between thinking you’ll disappear if he lets go or that he’ll disappear if he does. Your hand runs through his hair and you try to console him, knowing there isn’t much that can help at this point. But you try by playing with his hair and whispering softly to him despite your own heart aching and breaking for him.

Tears brim your own eyes as you hold him against you. If you could, you would claw out your own heart and replace his with yours. Maybe that would help some of his agony. Maybe that would make his pain a little more tolerable. Maybe if you could swap out your hearts, you could take some of his pain away. You’d do it if it meant he wouldn’t suffer so much.

Minutes tick by and his breathing is still harsh against you but the sobs have slowed. His grip is still iron-tight on your shirt and all Jason wants is for the world to stop spinning. He wants the aching in his chest to stop and he wants everything around him to stop feeling so damn heavy.

You pick his head up, cupping his cheeks in both hands again. His cheeks are tear stained and you swear you’ve never seen him look so broken before. Your thumb awipe over his cheeks, brushing the tears away gently.

Jason nearly shudders with the action.

“It’s okay, Jay.” You assure him and your voice is strained as if begging him to believe you.

“It’s fucking not.” He sputters, his brows pulling together and you can see him clench his jaw. “It’s all shit and those kids deserved fucking better.” His breath is hot, boiling on your skin as he seethes. And you know what lead him here tonight.

He told you. Right to your face he told you he died. He left out the gory details of it all for your own sake but you know he was just a kid. And you know why he was there and about the Joker. He was just a kid.

“Kids?” You questions and you know Jason always has a bad night when it involves kids.

“Forget it.” He lets out a scoff because he doesn’t want to talk about it. You don’t need to know the details.

“Hey, no.” You shake your head, eyes scanning over his face as your brows pull together. “I’ll listen all night, okay? I won’t ask anything if you don’t want me to, okay? You can talk or not. But, you’re gonna be okay.” Your eyes lock with his and he wants to believe you.

But he also knows he’ll back here again. He always comes back here. Haunted. The ghost of who he was then and the ghost of who he should have been follow him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to shake them as much as he wants to.

He places his hands over yours and you can’t help but notice how big his hands are whenever he does this. “Just so damn sick of it.” His voice is rough and exhausted.

“I know.” You nod with understanding.

You’ll never be able to understand how he feels or what he goes through but you try. And you see it across his face. You see it in the way he turns in his sleep, when he actually gets sleep. You see it in the way he’s always observing everything around him, always on guard. And you can see it in the way he is with his weapons, there’s always at least two weapons on him at any given moment. As much as you want to understand exactly what goes on inside of his head, you won’t but you can see it. So, you try your best to help and just be there in capacity he’ll let you.

“Why don’t we get you in the shower? I’ll wash your hair, clean up your hand, and we can get into bed? I’ll rub your back and you can tell me what happened if you want. Or I can read to you until you fall asleep.”

He’s almost always reluctant when it’s been bad. He never thinks he deserves the kindness and care you offer to him. On good days, he can accept it. It’s something he struggles with still because no one ever been so kind and careful with him before. So, it’s hard but on good days, he finds it easier to accept. But on bad days, like these, he’s reluctant because if he can’t see the good himself, why should anyone else? But he looks at your eyes that glossy with worry and you give him this look that makes him feel like he’s been put under a microscope. And you would do anything for him.

“Thanks.” He mutters, taking your hands away from his face. “I got it.”

“I know.” You nod your head. “I want to.” You smile gently at him, tilting your head slightly to the right. “You’re not alone, ya know?” You assure him because you think it must be lonely dealing with everything he goes through. “I got you.”

He knows. As hard as it is for him to accept the care and kindness you offer him, he knows because he notices everything. He notices how he always wakes up with a blanket on him when he falls asleep on the couch and the way you always have his favorite protein bars on hand even though you don’t like them. You’re the one missing sleep when you have work in the morning to sit on the bathroom floor with him. It’s hard to accept sometimes and he gets in his own head about it sometimes, but at the end of the night, he has you.

And you’ve always had a way of lifting some of that weight for him, maybe without even trying.

“Okay.” Jason finally agrees, still a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You get to your feet and offer him your hand.

He almost chuckles because you can’t actually help him from the floor. But he takes your hand in his anyway, getting to his feet. You look up to him with gentle eyes before closing the distance between the two of you and wrapping your arms around him as tight as you can.

It takes a few seconds before you feel Jason relax under your hug and his arms come around your waist. His chin lays on the top of your head and he feels like he can breathe a little better now.

When things get a little too heavy, at least he has you to help lift some of the weight.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover // @captainmarvels-blog

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #dc fanfiction #dc fanfic #dcu fanfiction #dcu fanfic #jason todd one shot #badthingshappenbingo

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cas-backwards-tie · 11 months

Text

Chapter One: Seed Uprooted

Heiress of Gotham

Masterlist | Next Chapter

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Summary: After the loss of your mother, it feels as if all hope is lost. Fortunately, you’ve been placed in the care of your absentee father. The Wayne name has always been said to come with a few odds and ends that you’d have to get used to, the question is: will you?

Warnings: Angst, Anti-Police themes, Cursing, Death, Depression themes, Orphanage

Words: 1,569

A/N: This has actually been in my drafts and in my docs for... at least three years, I know. It's been rewritten at least twice, and I'm finally deciding to put it out there.

I remember that day. I remember exactly where I was when I’d found out. I remember the moment I met him.

The high-pitched ringing gives permission for us to finally leave the classroom, Mrs. Gurdept’s earlier demand that “the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do.” did not divert anyone’s attention from packing up. Backpack already strung across your shoulders, you’re out the door along with everyone else. While your friend Daisha talks about how annoying the classmate is that sits next to her in History, it’s the uniformed men coming your way that catches your attention. It’s the BPD: Bludhaven Police Department. Parting the sea of students the police officer’s eyes scan the faces of the students passing them by. Heart rate rising, you try to keep your eyes on Daisha, determined to look engaged in conversation enough to skate past them without questioning.

“Miss?” One of the officers steps in front of you, blocking your path. Eyes immediately jumping up to his face, you scowl. “Can you answer a few questions for me?” Rumor has it they’re looking for Perdy Chapman, one of the sophmores who supposedly ran away from home once he’d been ousted as a drug runner for Marin’s gang; worst part was… he was funny, nice, and a straight A student. Officer reaching into the pocket on his breast, the white glimpse of a folded paper is barely seen before you respond. There’s no doubt it was some sappy photo of your classmate that you most definitely don’t want to see.

“No, I’m sorry, Officer. We’re late to practice!” Instantly grabbing Daisha’s hand you tug her along behind you, speedwalking toward the exit. She doesn’t question you; most of the kids know by now: never talk to the police. If you haven’t done anything wrong, then there’s no reason to talk to them. They’re all corrupt anyway.

Sitting on top of the cement blocks blocking off the parking lot from the kiss-and-ride line, Daisha playfully smacks your arm. “‘We’re late to practice’? Are you kidding me? You were so fucking quick with that!” A fit of laughter consumes the both of you, the imagined perplexed looks upon the cop’s faces bringing you practically to tears. It takes a while to calm down, the conversation turning into gossip, and eventually into Daisha sharing some of the memes she’d recently seen online.

“Do you think it’s gonna rain?” The question leaves your lips as your eyes watch the dark, ominous clouds roll through the sky. A wet smell of oncoming rain lingers in the air like the humid and hot summer nights in the Carnaveron District.

“Well… if the clouds aren’t an obvious sign, I’d say yes,” she teases. The three short honks are our signal: her mom is here. Jumping off the cement blocks we head over to the spot she’s parked in line, a soft drizzle makes itself known as the drops plunk the roof of the car. Daisha sweeps you into a quick hug before getting into the car, the duo waving goodbye before driving off. Since you don’t live far, it’s easier to walk. It’s the one part of your routine that consistently brings you joy. The breeze and gentle pitter of rain on your skin help clear your head of all the school drama. Off toward home, you find yourself beginning to get lost in thought about tonight’s homework assignments. It’s only the buzz of the cell phone in your pocket that brings you back to reality. “Auntie?”

“It’s your mother, get to the hospital as soon as you can. Cuidate, mija.” The dial tone signals the call’s ended. Frozen there on the sidewalk, time doesn’t seem to pass; thunder rumbles in the distance, it’s the only thing that reminds you that time is still moving. It starts to sprinkle rain.

~~~Two Hours Later~~~

Technically you were an orphan… at least that’s what you’d thought. Legally they were mandated to send you to a state-run orphanage. Everyone probably thinks they don’t exist today, and yet, there it was… right in front of you, open and waiting: the gates of purgatory calling your name. Though on the borders of Bludhaven and the streets that lead toward the country part of the state, the building looked like any other. Brown bricks, tall elongated windows; it would look like a ghastly warehouse to you from the outside if you didn’t notice the tricycle on the lawn, or the chalk drawings on the sides of the building and sidewalk leading up to it.

“I have to take this call, excuse me,” the social worker steps away from the black hatchback sedan. Lost in your own world, it doesn’t even occur to you to eavesdrop on her call. There’s no possible way that things could get worse than this. Nonetheless, many ‘mhms’ and ‘okay, I understands’ are heard throughout the field adjoining the driveway. The grey clouds finally starting to disperse, it’s quiet out here, the only murmur of your social worker talking and the occasional passing car fill the air. Just as the numbness starts to churn in your stomach at the thought of your Mom, there’s a knocking on the car window.

“Damn!” There’s an exasperated and ludicrous look in her eyes. “Someone’s got one hell of a guardian angel lookin’ out for you, kid. Follow me.” Even if she’s audible through the glass, she doesn’t wait to check as she turns and heads toward the orphanage’s entrance. Though thoughts of running away cross your mind, there’s no logical reason to do so. What’s left out here for me? Nothing.

Once inside of the building you're told to sit tight on one of the wooden benches by the entrance office. Though the social worker chats with the warden, you don't pay them any mind. Their words go in one ear and out the other, your fiddling fingers in your lap far more entertaining as you try and comprehend what the toll of your mother's death will have on the rest of your life. Fifteen, and no longer any semblance of security in any realm of matter toward your future. How did this happen?

It feels as if it's instantaneous, yet the wall on the clock shows over half an hour has passed. Doors creaking open with the cool ocean-ladened after-rain wind, an older man closes the umbrella he'd been holding over the younger-looking man who strides into the building with a sort of conviction that only exists through the air it permeates. They both are adorned in long trench coats and sunglasses, though the younger wears a black hat.

"Lisa! I assume this is her," the broad man addresses your social worker before turning his gaze down toward you. With the click of the door's lock as it seals shut, all noise diminishes in the halls of the orphanage aside from the faint echo of children's laughter in the distance. The building instantly warms by a few degrees and the men take off their sunglasses, pocketing them. Mouth subconsciously falling agape, you recognize him. The man standing before you is one you've only seen on billboards, television, and in magazines: Bruce Wayne. He crouches to your eye-level.

"Yes, this is-" Lisa, the name of the woman you'd only known as your social worker, begins to introduce you. What follows truly feels like some sort of grief-stricken concoction of fantasy, and though it might be dangerous, you follow it.

It isn’t until the car pulls up to the door that you snap out of it. “This isn’t a joke?” He must be tired of it: this most likely being the fifteenth time you’ve asked such a thing in the last hour.

“No. It’s not,” while one might pick up on the disappointed tone in his voice, Bruce Wayne offers a small, sympathetic smile. His hand gently comes to rest on your shoulder, leading you out of the clean, sleek Rolls Royce.

“It’s a pleasure, Miss,” the elderly man states your name in a titular way. Taken aback, he hardly registers in your mind. Too many thoughts and emotions consuming you, leaving nothing but a rapidly beating heart and a million questions tucked inside the body of a young girl. The fields had turn back into factories, factories into skyscrapers, skyscrapers into trees, and by then you’d finally come onto the property. In the dark there wasn’t much to take in; light illuminates windows upon rows of windows that span so far you wonder for a moment if they ever stop. Yet the edge of the mansion can be spotted from your place by the door, too weary to step inside.

"Are you coming?"

"I'm afraid if you stand out there all night you'll catch a cold," the older gentleman, whom you've already forgotten the name of, warns.

"That reminds me, Alfred, please go set up a bath for her. I'll take her upstairs," Bruce delegates. Though you wouldn't know it for months, he decided to give you a moment. Waiting at the door, he remembers the hours and days that followed his own parents' death. He's well aware that this is undoubtedly a big moment for you, and thus, a little patience won't hurt.

"This is..." you can barely even come up with a sentence, let alone a string of thoughts as you take in the palace before you.

"-your new home? Yes." He finishes the thought for you.

~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @ohdamnadam, @safarigirlsp, @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

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atlas-likes-writing · 20 days

Text

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Cold

PROLOGUE: He Is

Summary: An alternate universe where Jason Todd never dies to the Joker - but someone else does.

Nothing is truly set in stone. Even meticulously crafted calligraphy on a headstone eventually withers away under the elements until nothing remains legible. It becomes difficult to make out who died, when they did so, and by whom's hand. In times of need, you need to learn who to trust and to what extent. After all, revenge is a dish best served cold. No one ever has any idea who holds the knife at your back.

Word count: 1157

Characters: Jason Todd/Robin, Bruce Wayne/Batman (mentioned), Dick Grayson/Nightwing (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned).

Tags: Long fic, angst if you squint, mentions of prostitution but not for Jason, weaponry (guns), Robin Jason

A/N: The first of many chapters for a long fic I will be working on! Updates may be a little inconsistent, but I am to be posting chapters at least every month or so. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated! Asks are always open <3

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Batman is power.

He is a god. He is a concept. He is both myth and legend. He is an entity of such destructive prowess that death dare not approach him. He is a bedtime story you tell your children before they go to sleep at night. He is the shadow that darkens the doorsteps of those who harm others. He fights for the safety of the people in his city, his domain, and his family – and he is excellent at it.

Bruce Wayne is wealth.

He is human. He is mortal. He is flesh and blood and bones. He is wealthy but does not abuse the power that comes with it. He is the newspaper article on the front page. He is the pair of scissors that cuts the ribbon for the new hospital or library or school or food bank. He fights for the welfare of the people in his city, his domain, and his family – and he is excellent at it.

Nightwing is strength.

He is the glue that binds the two. He is the compassionate in-between. He has blood and bones, and he bleeds and breaks but there is something, something in his soul that makes him not entirely human. He is not the shadow like his father before him; instead, he is the opposite. He is the light that keeps the darkness at bay. He makes sure hope exists even when the mighty Dark Knight is consumed by his own demons. Even legends need compassion.

Dick Grayson is justice.

He fights for equality in a more legal setting. He is handcuffs and police hats and turn around slowly with your hands on your head! He is donuts and sunglasses and yes ma’am, your cat is fine. I have her here. He is one of the good ones. He is family and love, just like his fathers – both biological and adopted – before him. He is a son and a father and a brother and a husband with the capability of love so profound it shocks his own family. He also has a deafening, cacophonous rage within him. One he keeps hidden away and contained in neat glass bottles that has been carefully brewing since he was eight years old. A rage he keeps in check for his own sake. A rage that drove Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson apart.

Robin is passion.

He is youth and childhood wonder. He is backflips and cartwheels and beating up bad guys who did bad things. He works his hardest and sometimes that isn’t enough but that’s okay. He is a child. He is red tunics and yellow capes and green trunks that are borderline underwear but he’s working on a new prototype anyway. He has much to learn.

Jason Todd is perseverance.

He is youth that grew up too fast. He is lockpicks and crowbars and a petty criminal reformed. He is Jane Austen and George Orwell and J.R.R Tolkien and the other great minds of literature. He is intelligence and irresponsibility and growth and immaturity. He has the capability to do anything he sets his mind to with the backing of his loved ones behind him. He has much to learn.

Some debate angrily and with shaking fists that he is a child soldier; a victim manipulated by the Big Bad Bat. Others would calmly point out that he is turning eighteen in a week – a fact that Jason is dreading – and that he has no other family except for the aforementioned “Big Bad Bat” and his butler. He’s been in the vigilante game since he was twelve and it’s taking its toll. The constant juggling of vigilante work, maintaining appearances at the school he’s too intelligent for, and trying (and failing) to be a normal, untraumatised boy is creating cracks in the not-so-impenetrable walls he carefully developed out of crumbling concrete in his mind.

It’s only when he’s out on patrol with his pseudo-father that he has a clear head. It’s easy to forget what haunts you when you’re in the process of making new ghosts. It’s easy to use fists and fancy bat-gadgets to punch through his problems instead of, y’know, talking about why he has problems in the first place. Therapy failed him as most things do. Psychiatrist after psychiatrist listened to his qualms, but they don’t help when he already understands why he’s the way he is. It’s a catch 22: he’s fucked both mentally and emotionally, and he knows what makes him fucked and what to do to help himself, but he can’t do anything to make it better no matter how hard he tries. He wants to be better – he'd do anything to not be the way he is – he just can’t. It makes him want to run away; to take flight with canary wings and retake his mental freedom.

On patrol, he’s free. It’s like a video game: point and shoot. Except he’s not allowed to use guns, which sort of sucks. The prostitutes and escorts on the streets where he grew up taught him how to use one safely in case of emergencies. A warning came alongside it, of course. “Don’t you ever use a gun to take a life, darlin’ – only to save it.” It was said by one of the oldest and wisest ladies who had been on the streets since she was his age at the time. Little eight-year-old Jason Todd took that to heart. Those words of wisdom have stuck with him ever since and is the reason why Alfred hasn’t told Bruce about the pistol under his mattress yet. It was originally under his pillow, but the ex-spy pointed out the safety concerns of doing so to pre-teen Jason, so they compromised. Bruce would, of course, lose his shit if he found out – so it’s their little secret for now. It’s not like he would need to use it. Wayne Manor was a fortress. Not even the Man of Steel was able to sneak in without the Dark Knight noticing. It’s more for his own peace of mind. Such a thing is hard to come by for someone like him. A gun nearby puts him at ease, which is a bit backwards but hey – whatever helps.

The point is: Jason Todd is a boy screwed over by the world and he’s on a war path to retake his freedom no matter the cost.

“A luxurious cage will eventually wipe out the canary’s yearning for freedom.” That’s what Bruce thinks, at least. If he gives Jason a life better than what he had, he wouldn’t want to run. He wouldn’t want to fly away. Bruce needs him just as much as Jason wants to be needed.

But even then, a luxurious house will only increase people’s tolerance for suffering. The cage will always be strong enough to imprison freedom. Wealth can’t solve everything, Bruce. Wild things always yearn to be wild.

Reblogs appreciated!

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