CORY @wayneskluv - Tumblr Blog

HI, I’M CORY — 20. HE/SHE. HARLEYIVY ENTHUSIAST.

݁ ⠀𓍢 ⠀📞 ⠀ ╱

✦ — The inmates are running the asylum, and I’m the one writing their fate. These are the characters I’ll confine to my pages… for now.

( CHARACTERS I WILL WRITE. )

but of course i can be persuaded to write others..

DC COMICS — Gotham’s finest (and worst) are about to make an appearance; jason todd, dick grayson, bruce wayne, tim drake, damian wayne, harley quinn, barbara gordon, alfred pennyworth (fluff only), bart allen, conner kent, jon kent, roy harper, clark kent, rachel roth, poison ivy, blackfire, beastboy, starfire, cyborg, wally west.

MARVEL UNIVERSE — peter parker, natasha romanoff, pietro maximoff, wanda maximoff, tony stark, steve rogers, wade wilson, kate bishop, yelena belova, sam wilson, bucky barnes, loki, black panther, bruce banner, scott lang, maria hill, carol danvers, steven strange, agatha harkness, peter quill, gamora.

OTHER — simon ‘ghost’ riley, spencer reid, all the main marauders era characters, abby scuito, emily prentiss, steve harrington, billy hargrove, robin buckley, ian gallagher, alice cullen, edward cullen, bella swan, regulus black, ellie williams, tony dinozzo, anakin skywalker, rosa diaz, gina linetti, ziva david, kate todd, penelope garcia, majority of 18+ arcane characters.

—

LATEST CASE FILE: scott lang with a choking kink x m!reader

REQUESTS: open! (for fluff, smut & angst) just send them through on my ask box! can take me a while to do but please don’t send multiple through as they can get crowded!

MASTERLIST ; the asylum calls.. click here! (updating very soon)

“This city deserves a better class of criminal. And I’m gonna give it to them. You see, I’m a man of my word.”

#wayneskluv #dc comics #marvel universe

can you pls write a scott lang smut 🙏 where he is a switch and with a choking kink? also he cannot shut up as well so lots of praise from both reader and him

ngh.. scott lang with a choking (?) kink… freaky!

pairing/s: switch!scott lang x male/amab!reader

warnings: choking. sex. dirty talk. praise. mouthy scott. reader has a penis (theoretically could pretend it’s a strap on.. i guess? not really). reader’s gender left ambiguous (no pronouns). the use of the pet name ‘baby.’ user is a top in this.

summary: porn w a little bit of plot. you fuck on tony’s couch and forget he has camera’s.

a/n: sorry this is months late.. my bad. only a short one! i’m so much better at writing fluff/sfw i’m SO out of practise please send smut requests 🙏 uhm he got choked a lil bit.. but it wasn’t the whole plot so

STARK TOWER was… well, exactly what you’d expect from the guy who coined the term “genius billionaire playboy philanthropist.” Everything was sleek, shiny, and probably cost more than your entire life. Even the couch you were currently sinking into felt like it could pay off your student loans—twice.

Scott flopped down beside you, stretching his legs out like he owned the place. Which, you supposed, was fair. If Tony was gonna make you babysit his house loan out his penthouse for the weekend, you might as well make yourself comfortable. Not that Scott ever needed an invitation to relax.

“So,” he began, leaning his head back, a lopsided grin spreading across his face, “we’re sitting in Tony Stark’s living room. Like… the Tony Stark. Kinda makes my old apartment look like a cardboard box, huh?”

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I mean, your apartment doesn’t have a robot butler.”

“Hey, I don’t see that thing anywhere,” he shot back, eyes scanning the room like the robot might appear if he stared hard enough. “And for the record, I could totally get one of those voice-activated smart speakers. Same thing, right?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because a smart speaker definitely knows how to mix drinks and rebuild Iron Man suits.”

“Okay, fair,” he conceded, his fingers drumming on his thigh. “But I bet I could teach Siri to fetch a beer. It’s all about persistence.”

You shook your head, leaning back into the absurdly soft cushions. Silence settled, comfortable and familiar. Scott let out a long, contented sigh, his arm resting on the back of the couch, fingers close enough to brush your shoulder. He looked… at ease, which was rare. Usually, he was fidgeting, cracking jokes, or explaining—poorly—why his latest scheme was actually genius.

“It’s weird, huh?” he murmured, breaking the quiet. “Being here. Like… I’m waiting for Tony to walk in, start lecturing me about scratching his floors or something. Where the hell did he even go anyway?”

“No clue. Didn’t say.” You looked over at him, grinning. You reached over, your fingers brushing his. “He’d probably yell at you for putting your feet on his million-dollar couch.”

“What? Nah. I’ll clean it..” He grinned, that boyish, mischievous grin that always made your heart skip. “You know, after we ‘make it ours’ a few times.”

You swatted his chest, and he made an exaggerated “oof” noise, clutching his heart. “Abuse. I’m reporting this. Right to HR.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure there’s no HR department for superheroes.” You tease, moving one of your legs to straddle his lap.

—

“pleasepleaseplease.” Scott begs, eyes glossing over with pure arousal. His hips are grinding upwards, creating delicious friction between your clothed crotches.

You’d been sucking a big purple mark into his neck for the last five minutes, tongue occasionally darting out in to soothe the skin. “Mmm, I know.. Poor baby.” Your left hand was around his neck, not cutting off the air but enough to send shoots of pleasure to Scott’s dick that made him forget all about Stark’s expensive couch.

You could feel Scott squirming underneath you, desperate and needy. His cock was leaking steadily, the head an angry red, glistening with pre-cum. The sound of the zipper of his jeans being undone echoed through the expansive room, that you prayed was soundproof.

As his erection sprang free, you wrapped your other hand around the shaft, pumping it slowly. Scott inhaled sharply, head lolling back against the couch cushion. You rubbed your thumb over the slit, feeling him throb in your palm.

"Fuck, that feels so good," he groaned, hips bucking upward to meet your strokes. "I've been dying for your hands on me all damn day. I was kinda scared that freaky robo-butler was gonna appear.”

You swore you could feel Scott's heart pounding against your fingertips as the hand that was stroking him drifted higher, tracing the lines of his chest, the ridges of his abs. His skin was hot to the touch, flushed with arousal and exertion.

"Hell of a body you've got here," you praised, leaning in to press your lips to the hollow of his throat, next to where your other hand was gripping lightly. "Guess being a superhero agrees with you."

You watched, transfixed, as Scott's eyes fluttered shut and his mouth fell open in a silent moan. His cheeks flushed a deep pink and his chest rose with each shaky breath.

"God..." Scott panted, his voice ragged. "I need... fuck, I need..." He seemed unable to finish the thought, too consumed by the pleasure coursing through him.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass. He used the leverage to pull you harder against him, grinding your clothed dick against his own erection. You could feel every thick, throbbing inch of him, hot and insistent, separated from you only by the thin fabric of your pants and his boxers.

"Need it s’bad..” Scott whimpered, hips rolling upwards urgently as he chased more friction.

Your hand tightened every so slightly, enough to extract a whimper from the man’s neck.

"Tell me what you need," you murmured, voice low and tinged with amusement. "I want to hear you say it."

Scott shuddered against you, another pathetic whine catching in his throat.

"I need..." He swallowed hard, trying to find the words. "I need your cock," he said at last, his voice just above a whisper. It wasn't enough, not nearly.

Scott's hands slid up your back, fingers splaying out across your shoulder blades. He used the grip to pull you closer, until your chests were flush and your legs tangled and your lips a hair's breadth apart.

"Please," he breathed, and it sounded like a prayer. A plea. Begging. "Fuck, please... I need your cock so bad right now. I'm aching for it."

"Desperate much?" You teased, lips curling into a smirk as you gazed down at the desperation etched across his face. Your fingers tightened around his neck ever so slightly, a silent reminder of who was in charge here.

Despite the roughness of your grip, you leaned in to brush your lips against Scott's in a feather-light caress. It was barely a kiss, a whisper of a touch, but it made him shiver all the same. He chased after your mouth, eyes fluttering shut as he tried to capture your lips in a proper kiss.

"Not desperate," he countered, voice low and breathless. "Just really fucking horny. For you."

In a flash, you flipped him over onto his stomach, face pressed into the back couch cushion.

You felt Scott tense beneath you for a split second before he relaxed, his body opening up to you. It was incredible, the way he could let go, could trust you completely. With a smooth thrust of your hips, you pushed inside, feeling his tight heat envelop you inch by excruciating inch.

"Aahh! Oh fuck..." Scott groaned, fingers digging into the expensive couch cushion, nails leaving crescent indents. His eyes squeeze shut as his body adjusted to the sudden invasion.

You paused for a moment, allowing Scott to get used to the feel of you inside him. Your hand snakes up to his throat, squeezing once again. “Mmm, Yeah.. So good for me. This cunt’s gripping me so well..”

You pulled back slowly, the drag of Scott's tight walls making your vision haze over with lust. Then with a sharp snap of your hips, you thrust forward again, burying yourself balls-deep inside him.

"Oh god, yes!" Scott cried out, back arching off the couch as pleasure crashed through him. His hands scrabbled at your back, nails digging in, as he tried to pull you impossibly closer.

You set a hard, fast rhythm, pounding into Scott's now eager and pliant body. The wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the room, mixing with Scott's increasingly loud moans and cries.

You leaned down to capture Scott's lips in a searing kiss, swallowing his desperate moans. Your tongue delved into his mouth, tangling with his own, drunk on the taste of him.

You could feel his cock throbbing against your belly, leaking pre-cum and leaving sticky trails on your skin.

You break the kiss to growl in Scott's ear. "Gonna fill this hole. You feel so good around me.. I’m not gonna last. Taking it all like the good, obedient boy you are..”

The soft little noises he makes, the breathy cries that drive you fucking crazy...

The couch creaks and shakes, the expensive leather sticking to Scott’s bare knees. “Sh-Shiit. I ca-I can’t take it.” He’s babbling now, he can barely form a coherent thought.

"Fuck, you're... ungh... you're going to make me... make me...!" His words dissolved into a scream of ecstasy as his climax crashed over him, prostate clamping down around your cock.

Scott thrashed beneath you, back bowing as his orgasm ripped through him, small pathetic ropes of cum shooting of his dick, to stain the leather beneath him. He was vaguely aware of the filthy wet spot spreading across the couch, the scent of his climax heavy in the air. “Please.. Please cum in me. I need it. Need you. Now. Pleaseplease..”

You chuckled, pleasured expression spread across your face. “G-Good boy. I’m.. I’m gonna cum.. Fuck..” You grunted. “Shit… Cumming..” You shoved him down into the couch by the back of his neck and burying your dick inside his hole, filling him with thick spurts of semen.

“Shit… My good boy. Took me so well. So perfect.”

—

The elevator chimed, and neither of you paid it any mind. Probably just one of Stark’s weird AI gadgets doing maintenance or something. Scott was mid-rant about how he could totally pull off driving an Audi R8 “It’s basically the same as my van, just… shinier.” when a voice drawled from behind the couch, dripping with amusement.

“Well, isn’t this adorable?”

You both froze. Scott’s eyes widened comically, his head snapping around so fast you were surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

There, in all his casually smug glory, stood Tony Stark. Very much here. A day early. Leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, looking entirely too entertained.

Scott’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Uh—”

Tony’s smirk grew. “Really, Lang? My couch?” He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “And here I thought you had some class.”

“Oh my God,” you muttered, sinking lower into the couch. Maybe if you tried hard enough, you could merge with the cushions and disappear.

Tony just shook his head, tutting under his breath. “Unbelievable. Out of all the couches in the world…” He turned, sauntering back toward the elevator.

#mcu #scott lang #choking kink #no beta we die like jason todd #except i actually proof read it this time #wayneskluv #mcu x reader #scott lang x reader #smut with little bit of a plot #scott lang x male reader #tony obviously has camera’s guys

animusrox

Bee Movie (2007) dir. Simon J. Smith & Steve Hickner X-Men: First Class (2011) dir. Matthew Vaughn

Wonder Woman's daughter x Bat-fam - Chapter one

summary: Your mom—Wonder Woman—just dropped you off at Wayne Manor like a kid because she apparently couldn’t find a “suitable babysitter.” Never mind that you’re a fully grown adult and more than capable of taking care of yourself. Now you’re stuck in a mansion full of brooding vigilantes, chaotic adopted siblings, and a butler who’s already silently judging your life choices.

You survived battles, monsters, and Olympian family drama—but can you survive living with the Batfamily?

word count: around 1.6k before i made final touches on tumblr editor

pairing/s: platonic!alfred x reader, platonic!damian x reader (he's a child in this fic!) and then maybe romantically dick x reader or jason x reader perhaps even tim. probably not bruce x reader. if anyone has any preferences, do let me know!

warnings: basically none at the moment. haven't pre-read. no beta, we die like jason todd. damian being a bit of a demon brat. demigod!user.

a/n: all images edited by me! if there’s an artist i haven’t credited, please let me know! i usually get my images from pinterest, and the credit is.. not great. if i’ve written something twice or misspelled something please PLEASE don’t hesitate to tell me. i very much appreciate it. but please be kind! i promise the next parts will be longer, this is sort of an intro into it. even if they aren’t longer, i’ll write a few.

# ── chapter one's POLAROID design - DAMIAN’S:

WAYNE MANOR is.. a lot.

It’s not just the size—though the sheer magnitude of the place is ridiculous—it’s the atmosphere. There’s a certain weight to the air, something woven between the old wood and polished marble, between the paintings of long-dead Waynes and the ever-present shadows stretching down the halls. It’s a house of ghosts, of past lives and quiet grief, but also of something more. Something alive.

You follow Alfred through the halls, the weight of multiple sets of eyes trailing behind you.

“So,” Dick says, effortlessly slipping into step beside you, “how long are you crashing with us?”

“Not sure,” you admit. “Mom was vague. Something about a ‘diplomatic mission’ and ‘needing someone to keep an eye on me.’”

Jason makes a noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “You’re a grown adult. You need a babysitter?”

“Right?!” You throw up a hand. “I told her that. But apparently, my ‘tendency to attract trouble’ means I need supervision.”

Tim, still lounging on the couch with his coffee, raises an eyebrow. “You’re in good company, then.”

“I fail to see why we should be responsible for you,” Damian mutters, arms still crossed. “You’re more than capable of defending yourself. Do you require assistance dressing yourself as well?”

You smirk. “No, but thanks for the concern.” How old was this kid?

Damian bristles. Jason outright laughs.

Bruce, who had been silent up until now, finally speaks. “You’re here. You’ll train, patrol, and follow house rules. No exceptions.”

Ah. There it is. The Batman speech.

You tilt your head. “Define ‘rules.’”

Jason grins.

Bruce ignores him. “No reckless fights, no engaging Gotham’s rogues without backup, and no breaking my city.”

You cross your arms. “Define ‘breaking.’”

Tim groans into his coffee.

Dick pats your shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

You look around at your newly acquired dysfunctional family and resist the urge to sigh.

Mom really did just dump you here like a stray dog, huh?

—

You’re led to your new room—temporary room, you remind yourself—as Alfred sweeps open the door with his usual poised efficiency.

The space is huge. Bigger than necessary. A four-poster bed, heavy oak furniture, a massive window overlooking the eternal Gotham gloom. Everything is dark wood, old money, and class. The whole place smells faintly of leather-bound books and expensive cologne. It’s… nice. In a cold, excessively rich, mildly haunted sort of way.

Alfred clears his throat. “I took the liberty of preparing the room to your specifications. If anything is unsuitable, do let me know.”

Your specifications. Right. You’d told your mom you didn’t need anything, but she must have sent a list anyway, because there’s ambrosia nectar in a crystal decanter on the desk, a thick training mat rolled up in the corner, and a wardrobe that probably contains battle-appropriate outfits tailored to your measurements.

She really did just drop you off and send instructions like you’re a dog.

“Thanks, Alfred,” you say, running a hand over the desk. Solid mahogany. You could probably suplex a god onto it, and it would hold.

He nods approvingly. “Dinner is at seven. I trust you will have no issue finding the dining hall?”

You smirk. “I don’t know. This place is a maze. You sure I won’t end up lost and starving in the east wing?”

He doesn’t blink. “Then I shall inform Master Wayne that a search party may be required.”

Alfred departs, leaving you to take in the ridiculousness of your situation. You sit on the bed—comfortably firm, definitely high-thread-count sheets—and drop onto your back, staring at the ceiling.

Your mother owes you so much for this.

—

You spend the next couple of hours getting familiar with your prison.

It’s quiet for a while. Peaceful.

Then the knocking starts.

“Hey, Newbie.”

The door opens before you can answer. Dick. Of course it’s Dick.

He leans in, all easy grins and big brother energy. “Figured I’d check in. You settled?”

“As settled as I’ll ever be,” you say, sitting up.

Dick saunters in like he owns the place (which, okay, technically he used to). He glances around, nodding at the Amazonian touches. “Mom went all out, huh?”

“She thinks Gotham is held together with duct tape. She’s probably right.”

“Oh, definitely right.”

Before you can ask what he actually wants, another figure appears in the doorway.

Jason.

He crosses his arms, giving you a slow once-over. “So. You’re an Amazon.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Dick chokes on a laugh. Jason grins.

—

The next few hours are a crash course in Batfamily survival.

Tim appears just long enough to tell you that “if you touch my coffee, I will kill you” before vanishing into the night like a cryptid.

Damian tests your reflexes by casually throwing a knife at you in the hallway. You catch it without looking. He says nothing. Just nods and walks away.

Jason decides to test your strength. By handing you a gun. You crush it in your bare hand. “…Well, okay then.”

Dick drags you into the living room for an impromptu movie night. Apparently, it’s a tradition. Jason spends half the movie making snarky Amazon jokes. Damian complains about historical inaccuracies.

By the time dinner rolls around, you’re half-convinced you’ve walked into a madhouse.

Alfred serves a massive feast (courtesy of your inhuman dietary needs). You sit at the table, surrounded by Gotham’s weirdest vigilantes, eating like an Amazon in the middle of a completely normal family meal.

It’s bizarre. It’s horrifying.

It’s… weirdly nice.

Bruce, sitting at the head of the table, barely says anything. He’s watching you, but it’s not that usual piercing Batman stare—it’s more like a curiosity. Maybe he’s wondering what kind of trouble you’ll stir up. Maybe he just doesn’t know what to make of you. You’ve barely had a real conversation with him, just him dropping you here with all the grace of a father figuring out how to deal with his kids’ newest problem. But then again, Bruce Wayne isn’t exactly father of the year.

Dick’s usual charm is in full swing as he tries to make small talk. “So, you’re a demigod, huh? You’re gonna have to teach me some moves sometime. You know, to keep up with all the crazy stuff we have to do around here.” His smile is big, open—like he’s trying to make you feel at home, but you can tell there’s a nervous energy under it. He keeps glancing at you, like he’s trying to figure out how to approach someone who could probably snap him like a twig. You almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

Jason, sitting next to you, shovels food in with no care for finesse. “So, you’re Wonder Woman’s kid. That explains the whole glowing warrior princess thing you’ve got going on. What do you actually do with all that godly power? Sit on mountaintops and brood or do you, like, break people’s faces for a living?” His voice is laced with amusement, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes. He’s testing you.

“You’d be surprised,” you say coolly, setting your fork down. “I’ve had a bit of experience with face-breaking.”

Jason laughs. “Good, because Gotham needs a lot of that.”

Damian, who had been silently poking at his food, suddenly looks up from his plate. His eyes narrow with some strange mix of suspicion and mild interest. “You will be trained, I assume?” he asks, not bothering to hide the condescension in his voice. “Or do you believe that your divine abilities will suffice?”

You almost choke on your drink. “Oh, I’m definitely trained, kid. What, you think just because I’m half-god I don’t need to learn how to fight like a human?”

Damian’s lips curl up into something that might be a sneer, but it’s more like the equivalent of a raised eyebrow from someone who’s always trying to one-up everyone. “I suppose that’s a good attitude, for now.”

You raise an eyebrow back, feeling the tension between you two starting to spark. “Keep thinking that.”

Tim, who’s been glaring into his phone the whole time, suddenly looks up. His expression is the usual deadpan, but you catch a flicker of curiosity. “You know,” he says, tapping on his screen, “if you really want to get the most out of this place, you’ll have to figure out which of us is your mentor. Bruce is… well, Bruce, so don’t expect much from him. But if you’re looking for a solid training regiment, maybe ask Dick or Jason. Just—don’t get too attached to the idea of normal training. This is Gotham, and we all have our… quirks.” He’s about to say more when Bruce interrupts with a sharp look.

“That’s enough, Tim,” Bruce says softly, but with authority. The room falls silent for a moment. Tim’s eyes flicker up at Bruce, then down at his phone. No more words from him.

It’s… strange. You’re used to the chaos, but this feels like a whole other level of dysfunction. They bicker like siblings, but there’s this undercurrent of something deeper—loyalty maybe? You can tell that whatever happens between these people, they’re bound by something stronger than just the weight of their shared lives.

You take a breath and cut in, trying to ease the tension. “Look, I’m just here for the short-term. All I need is a place to crash and a bit of guidance while Mom does whatever it is she’s doing.”

“Short-term?” Damian asks, raising a brow. “How short is short-term?”

You glance over at him, the corners of your mouth tugging into a smirk. “Not long enough for you to start calling me ‘sis,’ if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He glares at you. “We shall see.”

The dinner continues, awkwardly at first but slowly finding its rhythm. There’s a comfortable noise in the air now—the kind that only happens when people are used to each other’s company. And while you’re still very much the outsider in this strange little family, for the first time since you arrived, the weight of the world outside feels just a little bit lighter.

@hjgdhghoe @linnygirl09

#wayneskluv #jason todd x reader #damian wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #dc comics #batfam #no beta we die like jason todd

luv-lock-deactivated20250611

# STRAWBERRY BABY .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : 𝘑𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘛𝘰𝘥𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

☆⁠ SYNOPSIS : 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘑𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯'𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥...

☆⁠ NOTE : 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺!

Your life was supposed to be perfect right now. You just gave birth to your beautiful baby—a moment that should have been magical, joyous, and filled with happy tears.

Instead, you were losing your mind.

Because the baby in your arms… did not have black hair. Not even a single dark strand.

No.

Because the baby—the tiny, fresh-out-the-womb infant that you had just spent hours screaming into existence—was blonde.

Blonde.

BLONDE.

And he looked exactly like Jason.

Now, for most normal people, this wouldn’t be an issue. In fact, it would be a cute, happy moment—"Oh wow, he looks just like his dad!"—but you? No. You were spiraling. Because Jason had black hair. Jet black. Dark as the night. Dark as his soul (romantically speaking).

And your baby?

Your baby had a tuft of blonde hair that made him look like a tiny cherub sent straight from heaven.

Which made no damn sense.

You hadn’t cheated. Hell, you barely even looked at other men since getting together with Jason because—let’s be honest—your man was already borderline psychotic when it came to his jealousy.

So, if you had cheated (which, again, you HADN’T), you would already be dead. There would be no hospital room. No baby. Just a Jason-shaped shadow standing over your shallow grave.

But that didn’t change the fact that you were staring at your son, this tiny, beautiful baby with blonde hair.

Which would be fine. If Jason had fucking blonde hair.

But he didn’t. He had black hair.

You were a hundred percent sure of that. You had run your fingers through that thick, inky hair so many times. You had tugged it when he pissed you off. You had yanked it when—

That didn’t matter right now.

Because either you had just given birth to the wrong child, or—OR—

“Oh my God,” you choked, your voice cracking as you looked at the baby in your arms with sheer, bone-deep horror. “Jason’s going to think I cheated on him.”

The room went silent.

A nurse looked at you with wide eyes, hesitating mid-step. Alfred, ever the picture of composure, cleared his throat, carefully folding a tiny onesie. And Dick—because of course Dick was here—froze mid-bite of his celebratory snack, a hospital pudding cup, before slowly turning to you.

“Uh… what?”

“I didn’t cheat on him,” you gasped, convulsing in hormonal sobs as you clutched the tiny baby closer to your chest. “I didn’t! I swear I didn’t!”

“I mean, obviously,” Tim mumbled, looking more alarmed at your emotional breakdown than at the situation itself.

But you weren’t listening. You were spiraling, your voice getting more frantic.

“Oh my God. What if they gave me the wrong baby?” you whispered, eyes darting wildly around the hospital room. “What if some poor woman out there has my real baby? And I have hers?”

“Miss, please,” Alfred sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Damian, perched in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, made a disgusted sound. “That’s your child, idiot. It looks just like Todd.”

“NO, HE DOESN’T!” you wailed. “JASON HAS BLACK HAIR!”

Damian just scoffed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I—WHAT?!” you shrieked.

Dick sighed dramatically, putting his hands on his hips. “I can’t believe we have to do this right now. Jason’s gonna lose his mind.”

That set you off even worse. Jason’s gonna lose his mind?! Oh God, oh God, he was going to think you cheated. He was going to leave. He was going to storm in here, take one look at the baby, and—

You sobbed harder. Ugly cried harder.

Bruce actually looked like he was reconsidering every decision that led him to this moment.

“Uh, wow,” Tim muttered.

“I didn’t cheat,” you repeated, voice breaking. “I mean—how would I even have the time?! Jason’s always around! He’d kill anyone who looked at me for too long! It doesn’t make sense!”

“Why are you trying to convince us?” Damian scoffed. “Shouldn’t you be telling Todd?”

Your stomach dropped.

Jason.

Jason wasn’t here.

Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

“I—I love him so much,” you sobbed, clutching your little (wrong?!) baby. “I—oh my God—what if he leaves me?! What if he thinks I—Oh God, he’s gonna think I cheated, and I didn’t, I swear—”

“Jason’s going to break the door down when he gets here,” Tim muttered, rubbing his temples.

“No, he won’t,” Bruce grumbled.

CRASH.

Jason absolutely broke the door down.

It slammed against the wall so hard that even your baby, who had been peacefully asleep through your meltdown, flinched.

"Fucking Gotham traffic, I swear to—"

He froze.

You were crying.

Sobbing.

Hysterical.

His brain ran a million miles per hour. Did something happen? Did you change your mind about the name? Did one of the nurses insult you? Did he leave the oven on? Did someone die?

His eyes darted to the baby in your arms.

Tiny. Swaddled. Breathing.

Okay. Not dead.

So why the fuck were you crying like this was a damn crime scene?

"Uh," Jason started. "Baby? What’s wrong?"

You let out another broken sob, clutching the baby to your chest.

Jason panicked.

You started crying so hard you couldn’t even get words out. Just absolute, gut-wrenching sobs while Jason rushed to your bedside, grabbing your face.

“Baby, baby, what’s wrong?!” he panicked, his voice an octave higher. “Did they hurt you?! Are you in pain?! Do I have to kill someone?! Is it Bruce?! I bet it’s Bruce.”

Bruce exhaled through his nose, deeply unimpressed.

It's just made you cry harder.

"Oh, God—what happened?! Are you okay?! Is the baby okay—"

"Jason, I SWEAR I didn’t cheat on you!" you blurted out.

Jason blinked.

Everyone collectively flinched.

"…What?" Jason said, voice flat.

"I didn’t cheat! I would never cheat! I love you, and you were my first, and I would never, I would never, I—"

"Baby," Jason said slowly, trying to wrap his head around this absolute fever dream. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

You let out another shaky breath, eyes darting around the room in pure panic. "T-the baby, Jason. Look at him."

Jason frowned, stepping closer. He looked at the baby. Looked at you. Looked at the baby again.

"…Yeah?" he said, confused.

"He has blonde hair!"

Jason blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then turned to the rest of the family like they had the answers.

Dick rubbed his temples. "Jay."

Jason turned back to you, lips parting like he was about to say something, then stopping. Then opening again. Then stopping.

“I swear I didn’t!” Your sobs renewed, your shoulders shaking as you held up the tiny, peacefully sleeping baby. “But look at him! He has blonde hair! He looks exactly like you! But you have black hair! I think I got the wrong baby, or I cheated on you in my sleep, or maybe you’re going to leave me—”

Jason stared.

Then he turned, slowly, toward the rest of the room. “…Did you guys let her spiral like this on purpose?”

“Yes,” Damian said, unbothered.

“Absolutely,” Dick grinned.

Jason inhaled deeply.

Then, to your absolute shock, he let out a long, tired sigh—before shoving a hand through his hair and grumbling, “I fucking forgot you didn’t know.”

You hiccupped again. “Wh—what?”

Jason gave you a flat look. “Babe. My hair. I’ve been dyeing it black since I was a kid.”

Your breath caught. “Huh?”

“Because of him,” Jason added, jerking his thumb toward Dick, who just wiggled his fingers in a smug little wave.

Silence.

More silence.

The world stopped.

The Earth stopped spinning.

Your breath hitched. "You…"

Jason nodded.

"You… had blonde hair?"

Jason nodded again.

You sniffled. Sniffled again. Processed this information.

Then immediately let out a loud, gut-wrenching, ugly sob and buried your face in your hands.

Jason Todd. Your husband. Your big, scary, six-foot-four, muscle-bound, leather-wearing husband. The man who used to be the meanest street kid in Crime Alley. The man who could disassemble a gun with his eyes closed and had murdered actual people.

Had spent his entire life dyeing his hair because he wanted to look like Dick Grayson.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, eyes wide.

Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “Babe—”

“Oh my God.”

“Listen, it’s not—”

“You mean to tell me I’ve been married to you this whole time thinking you had black hair, but you’re actually some kind of undercover blonde?!”

“Strawberry blonde,” Tim corrected.

Jason shot him a glare. “Shut up.”

You gasped, gripping his jacket like you might collapse. “You mean to tell me this baby is actually yours?”

Jason exhaled. Then he stepped forward, resting a warm, solid hand against your cheek before pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, babe,” he muttered, lips brushing your skin. “He’s mine.”

"Oh my God," you wailed. "I’m so stupid."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa—" Jason sat on the bed, grabbing you. "You’re not stupid. You just had a baby. And hormones. And clearly, no one ever showed you my baby pictures."

"This whole time," you hiccupped, voice muffled, "I thought they swapped our baby, and I stole some random kid. I thought you were gonna leave me!"

Jason sighed, rubbing your back. "Sweetheart, I would never leave you. Especially not over our perfectly fine, baby."

Damian scoffed. "Tt. As if anyone else would willingly have a child with Todd."

Jason shot him a glare. "Not the time, demon."

Dick sighed, stepping forward and ruffling Jason’s hair. "Guess we should’ve mentioned that whole blonde thing earlier, huh?"

Jason glared. "You think?"

Stephanie shook her head. "I thought everyone knew. It's, like, a family fun fact at this point."

"I DIDN’T KNOW!" you shouted.

Jason pulled you into his arms, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. "It’s okay, babe. It’s okay. I promise."

You sniffled, eyes red and puffy. "So… he’s really yours?"

Jason pressed a kiss to your forehead. "He’s really mine."

You let out a weak whimper. "I wanna see your baby pictures."

Jason chuckled. "Alright, sweetheart. When we get home, I’ll show you all of them."

Tim crossed his arms. "I have them saved on my phone."

Jason turned his head. "Why the fuck do you have baby pictures of me on your phone?"

Tim shrugged. "For emergencies."

Jason squinted. "…What kind of emergencies?"

Tim smirked. "Like this one."

Jason pulled back, finally looking down at the baby in your arms.

And—oh.

The storm in his eyes vanished.

Replaced by something warm. Something deep. Something soft.

The big, scary Red Hood, suddenly looked—small.

Awe-struck.

Because there, curled in your arms, was a tiny, sleeping baby with blonde hair and soft little features that looked just like his.

Jason swallowed.

Then, hesitantly, he reached out, brushing his fingers over the baby’s little fist.

“…Holy shit,” he murmured.

Dick grinned. “You made a clone.”

Jason turned to you, eyes softening.

Then he kissed you—long, deep, and full of love.

“I love you,” he muttered, lips still against yours.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

You survived battles, monsters, and Olympian family drama—but can you survive living with the Batfamily?

word count: ???

pairing/s: platonic!damian x reader (definite, set in stone) and then i’m not sure maybe dick x reader or jason x reader idk atm

warnings: basically none at the moment. damian being a bit of a demon brat. demigod!user.

authors note: um so hi. i’m back! probably. this might be a new sort of fic if anyone is interested.. like just chaos and perhaps a romantic pairing.. i will actually work on the peraltiago fic at some point but life has been HECTIC.

find chapter one here!

WAYNE Manor looms ahead, all gothic spires and looming stone, like something out of a horror novel rather than a billionaire’s estate. You shift the strap of your duffel bag, inhaling deeply. The air here is thick with old books, expensive wood polish, and—oddly enough—gunpowder. Fitting, considering the people inside.

The massive doors swing open before you can knock, revealing Alfred, ever the picture of poise. His expression is unreadable, but there’s warmth in his voice. “Miss. Welcome to Wayne Manor.”

You nod. “Thanks.”

Inside, the house is even grander. High ceilings, walls lined with paintings older than some civilizations, and a staircase that looks like it was built for dramatic entrances.

Bruce is already there, waiting near the banister like some brooding gargoyle. Arms crossed. Stance firm. His usual intimidation tactics, but you’ve faced literal gods.

“You’ll be staying in the east wing,” he says. “Alfred will show you to your room.”

You raise a brow. “No speech? No ‘my house, my rules’?”

He exhales sharply. “You already know the rules. You’re not a guest—you’re an ally.”

Which is Bat-speak for I trust you, but I’ll still be watching you like a hawk.

Then, Chaos.

Dick is the first to approach, all bright smiles and easy warmth. “Hey! Glad you’re here.” He pulls you into a quick one-armed hug before you can react. “Don’t let the gloom and doom fool you—this place is kinda fun once you settle in.”

Jason, leaning against the staircase railing, snorts. “Fun? Sure. If you like near-death experiences and questioning your mortality on a daily basis.”

Tim, slouched on the couch with a coffee in hand, barely looks up. “Give it a few days. You’ll either love it or start reconsidering your life choices.”

“Tt.” The noise comes from Damian, standing stiffly at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed like a tiny warlord. His eyes flick over you, assessing, calculating. “You may be the daughter of an Amazon, but that does not mean you are above scrutiny.”

You smirk. “And you must be the infamous Damian. I’ve heard so much about you.”

His scowl deepens. “I highly doubt that.”

Dick slings an arm around your shoulders, grinning. “You’ll fit right in.”

You glance around at the absolute mess of personalities—grumpy billionaires, reckless vigilantes, over-caffeinated detectives, and a pint-sized assassin with a superiority complex.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

#jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #batfam #wayneskluv

mostly-imagines

You knew Damian would take his time getting adjusting to your presence. Of course he would. He’s even slower to warm up than Jason, you knew it before you’d even met him. So you’d had no idea you were even within a five year shot of him even liking you, let alone trusting you.

In spite of it nearing one in the morning, you laid atop your bed covers, watching your shows with passing interest. You’re waiting up for Jason like you usually do, you have a hard time sleeping not knowing if he’s okay or not. He hates it when you do, he says just because he has to be up all night doesn’t mean you do. Unfortunately for him, you’re nothing if not stubborn.

A clatter from the living room has you perking up—Jason’s back. It’s a little early for him to be home already though, and he’s not usually so loud upon re entry unless he’s hurt.

You stand quickly, tossing the book aside, and mentally prepare yourself to tend to injuries.

You open the door to the dark room, the only light available coming from the dim lamp in the kitchen and the moonlight through the open window.

It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, scanning the room only to find a figure much, much smaller than expected.

“Damian?”

He looks at you through the darkness, silent. You approach him slowly.

“Hey. Are you hurt?” You ask, getting a bit concerned. Of all Jason’s brothers, Damian is the least likely to drop in, especially unharmed.

“No.” Damian’s always standoff-ish, but he’s exhibiting a particularly strange energy right now. You wonder if he needs something Jason could help with.

“Jason’s not here,” you tell him, watching him closely for any sign of what’s going on.

“I know.” His words are short, measured.

If he knows, that means he was with him tonight. Then why would he come here?

“Is everything okay?”

He says nothing. His gaze is lasered onto a panel of wood among the floorboards, jaw clenched.

You tilt your head. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

He hesitates to answer but it seems like he does want to stay. You don’t know Damian anywhere near as well as Jason does, but you can’t imagine he’s ever seen or shown much vulnerability before.

He seems to decide on biting the bullet and nodding, yes. You make your way around the couch and sit down, looking to him.

Slowly, he does the same, in absolute silence. He sits stiff. His shoulders are hunched up and his body is tightly pressed into the smallest space possible. The way his posture curls in on him makes him look even tinier.

You’ve never seen him anywhere close to upset before, not like this. Most of the time you see him he’s an angry upset, but this…it’s a sad upset. Almost scared.

You fold your legs onto the couch, pulling a blanket off from the ledge behind you. You drape it over Damians shoulders, enveloping him in warmth to contrast the icy bite of the night. He remains still.

You slowly move your hand up to his hair, treading carefully. He’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, though he makes no moves to stop you. You take that as the closest to a blessing you’re going to get from him, so you continue on.

You brush his hair back lightly, fingers threading through his hair with a loving gentleness.

“Damian,” You whisper.

He doesn’t look at you. Even in the dark, you can see his breathing labored and his eyes starting to well over.

You turn to face him and shift a little closer, taking his hand in yours. His chin lowers and his stare hardens, trying desperately not to cry.

You bring your free hand to the far side of his head, gently nudging him your way. He folds immediately, turning to you and throwing himself into your chest, tears flowing violently.

He struggles to breathe right, choking on his sobs as he hugs you tight. You hold his head against you, stroking his hair as he weeps.

You hold him like that for almost half an hour, allowing him as much time to cry as he needs.

He ends up curled up on your lap at an awkward angle, head resting on your thigh. The shaking of his body slows over time, his eyes fluttering shut from the ache of the tears. Not long after, his breathing levels out and his body completely relaxes into sleep.

You continue petting his head, mind wandering around to what could’ve happened. Jason had told you once that the only thing Damian seems to hold in high regard is Bruce, and his mood can easily sway Damian’s.

It’s almost three am when Jason slides in through the window, landing gracefully into a kneel. He tugs off his helmet before looking up and noticing you on the couch.

A split second of a smile before he glances down and sees Damian asleep on your lap, his arms still wrapped around your waist. His mouth drops and his brows furrows as he stands, examining his brother.

“What the hell?” He says quietly, looking back up to you.

You shake your head and shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. Did something happen on patrol?”

Jason’s eyes drift down to Damian again. “I mean Bruce kind of yelled at him, so.”

“That’ll do it.”

He nods, coming to sit on the opposite side of the couch, careful not to wake him. He observes his brother's vice grip around your middle and your much more gentle hold around his.

“He let you hug him?”

“He hugged me.”

“He what?”

nouearth

poolside banters.

dick grayson x male reader.

summary: it's your final day at the summer resort, and dick has a way to end it with a bang.

wc: 3.4k. warnings: resort!au, explicit smut, blowjob (r giving), handjob, frotting, thigh-fucking, public exhibition, humping, body worshipping, muscle worshipping, established relationship, playful bantering, daddy!kink, big dick!dick resort owner!dick, thwaites!dick.

Large palm trees sprouted beneath the clear sky and bristles danced in pursuit of the mellow jazz that played from stereos. The summer was cooled by the gentlest breeze, and you could hear the wealthy patrons collectively ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ when the flame of their bodies began to simmer from a hard boil.

Across from you was the vast beach that swallowed the rays of the sun, glistening every pulp while visitors joyfully soaked within the dewy radiance. It was a scene straight from a feel-good film, and you couldn’t help but reflect the smile of fond memories onto your own face as you kicked back onto the lounge chair by the pool.

incognit0slut

Reid's Slut Kinktober #2

The time of year has finally come for me to ✨shine✨ If you followed my first kinktober last year, you can already guess what to expect. This event is purposefully written explicitly with a few dark themes, so please make sure to take note of every content before engaging.

All fiction below will be paired with fem!reader.

jvsont0dd

they hated him for his rage-filled eyes and slut waist

happy pride month everyone

leosuncancervenus

Here’s a link to a petition to protect Native American land in NC from a gas station chain which poses immense environmental threats, has violated workers rights, and will destroy land with historical significance to natives. My ancestors traveled the trading path they plan to build over. Please sign if you have a moment

whoops didn’t mean to disappear sorry guys

sleepyangelkami

smut's fun. have you ever read soul crushing, heart aching, head throbbing comfort that makes your eyes burn out of your head to the point where you just have to crawl into a ball because your inner child feels so safe? haha... yeah smuts fun.

marvel & dc characters reacting to you sending an explicit picture with f!reader & m!reader | ¡! ❞

including ; jason todd, dick grayson, bruce wayne, tony stark, steve rogers & peter parker

warning ; the obvious ones…

a/n: this is shit writing cause it’s so so rushed but i’m procrastinating 😭

dc characters

JASON TODD ;

f!reader — he glances down at his phone, seemingly unbothered as he stares at the picture of your tits that you’d just sent. you wait till he makes eye contact across the table, before forming an teasing ‘o’ shape with your lips. he shifts ever so slightly in his seat before excusing himself to the bathroom.

m!reader — having a day off was boring, to say the least. so naturally, you’re gonna send your boyfriend a dick pic. moments later, you hear a buzz from your phone. followed by another. and another. and another. you pick up your immediately, and see the string of texts. “holy shit” “i’m omw.” “stay right there baby.” “fuck” “gps says ten minutes” “i’ll be there in two” “ur so hot” he’ll immediately call tim and ask him to cover for him, and when he asks why, he’ll respond with, “i’m gonna fuck my boyfriend.” which is followed by a “gross!” that jason would’ve heard if he hadn’t hung up when he pulled up outside your house.

DICK GRAYSON ;

f!reader — sending a full body picture of yourself whilst he was on patrol was not fair. he had to stand there in agony as he waited for it to be over. after patrol, he would head back to the belfry & he would have to constantly hide the growing tent in his pants.

m!reader — you just know he’s gonna make some joke about his name being dick & you sending him a dick pic, but in all seriousness he’ll sprint to wherever you are.

BRUCE WAYNE ;

f!reader — he acts insanely nonchalant, but he jumps when anyone comes near him. he can’t risk anyone seeing your his photo. he has an insane tolerance for b0ners at work but as soon as you get home he’ll fuck you against the kitchen counter.

m!reader — he facetimes you immediately, and will be reprimanding you over the phone. you just continue to nod before you hear a tiny whimper as he speaks and you have to hold back a chuckle, “bruce, are you touching yourself?”

marvel characters

TONY STARK ;

f!reader — you send him an explicit picture? he will send one right back. this is the cockiest man who ever lived who has every right to be full of himself.

m!reader — he will low-key get pissed off as he thinks you’re trying to one up him. he thinks it’s insanely hot, but also like, “you think you have a bigger dick than me?”

PETER PARKER ;

f!reader — why are we acting like he’s experienced.. he is going to throw his phone across the room as soon as he clicks your message & have absolutely no idea how to respond.

m!reader — sending a dick pic is slightly different cause he’s yk seen one before.. obviously, but he is still gonna get insanely flustered. he’ll attempt to take one himself but will fail miserably & end up sending the most awkward photo you’ve ever seen.

STEVE ROGERS ;

f!reader & m!reader — he is going to open the photo in front of everyone and have absolutely no idea how to close it. he will genuinely break the phone to get everyone to stop staring.

if he can’t get to you immediately, he will take all his frustrations out in training. he will get a new pr & beat the shit out of everyone, and still have several rounds in him when he gets home.

#went a bit overboard with jason #dc comics #wayneskluv #jason todd #criminal minds #call of duty #marvel #wayneskluv headcannons

#wayneskluv #wayneskluv randomly posts 🫥#(procrastinating writing part 2)

martiniluvr

excuse me. why are we suddenly drawing starfire as a petite and svelte woman. if y’all don’t give her back her 6’4 muscle mommy build I’m going to do something that will put this nation at defcon 1

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