#dc vore

[thefanciestborrower]

Sometimes I forget how sad J’onn is. He’s lost his entire planet, his family, his home, and nothing on earth can really make up for that. Sure he loves the league and considers them his new family, but it’s never really going to be the same. So…maybe…he bonds with Clark over that a little. Their experiences are different sure, but he does understand in a way. And I think, Clark would be more than happy to let J’onn tuck him away for a bit as a way to give J’onn a little of his home and culture back. It’s different and will never truly be the same again, but Clark is warm and heavy and alive, and that’s all J’onn needs

[stellarinoms]

POV ur partner isn't a morning person + is dead asleep and u have patrol and know damn well their bump won't fit into ur vigilante suit

[fandomymous-anonymous]

Cat and Mouse

AO3 link

!!!Safe Soft Vore!! Keep yourself safe if this is not for you!!!

Willing pred, unwilling prey, digestion mentions (does not happen)

Tim stares out of the window of Titans Tower at the bay, sighing. He knows he shouldn’t be alone, but he needs his space to think about what’s going on in Gotham lately. He taps his cheek, doing just that. He wonders about Red Hood and why he wants Tim so badly. He wonders about Bruce benching him. He thinks that surely California is far enough away from Gotham that Red Hood can’t get to him. Tim brushes his fingers through his hair. He just doesn’t get it. He hasn’t done anything to the crime lord. He’s done his best to uphold the title of Robin. Even as just plain Tim Drake he can’t imagine anything he did wrong.

The lights flicker and Tim looks up at them. That’s not good. He’s the only one here and there’s no reason for the lights to be flickering. The lights power off and Tim groans as he waits for the generator to turn on.

He waits for a few seconds.

Then a few seconds more.

After a minute, Tim turns away from the window and starts towards the stairs to see what the problem with the generator is.

The lights turn on.

Red Hood stands in the middle of the Ops room.

Tim startles, jolting back. He reaches for his bo staff, only to realize it's not at his side. He wasn't expecting anyone to be here, so why would he have it?

“Hello, little chick,” Red Hood says. “You're far from your nest.”

“H-how’d you get in here?” Tim says. “The Tower is closed to intruders.”

“I'm not an intruder if I'm in the system,” Red Hood says. He brings his hands up to his helmet and takes it off. Tim stares at the face of a boy -a man?- he thought was dead. Jason Todd smirks at him. “Surprise, little birdie. I know you weren't expecting me.”

“You're dead,” Tim says.

“Not anymore.”

“What do you want from me?” Tim asks, stepping back.

“I want to show Bruce the dangers of making Robins.”

“Then why not go after him?” Tim says, eyeing the doorway behind him.

“Because you need to learn about it as well, little chick.” In the blink of an eye, Jason's arm dashes out and he grabs Tim by the shoulder. “Come on, lil chick, let’s make this fun.”

“Fun!?” Tim screams. “You want to… Have…” Tim trails off as he realizes that Jason seems much taller than he was before.

Jason grins, his fangs a bright white. “Get running, sweetheart.”

Tim doesn’t want to know what will happen if he doesn’t. He runs off deeper into the tower. Everything gets bigger by the second. Tim skids to a stop next to a door, staring up, up, up at a doorknob several feet above him. He can’t go up the stairs. He’s trapped on this floor with Jason.

Hide, he needs to hide. Where can he hide? Under a couch? The fridge? If Tim can make it to the other room in time, he can wait out this… shrinking that Jason did to him. Tim dashes away towards the kitchen, squirming under the gap between the fridge and the floor. It's terrible, dust and sticky spots covering the ground. But at least he's safe.

Jason walks into the room, looking over the counters and under the cabinets. A predatory gleam shows in his eyes. “Come out, lil chick,” Jason croons. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”

Tim holds his breath, covering his mouth. Jason can't hear him over the fridge, can he?

The man takes a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. “I know you’re in here,” Jason says. “You can’t hide from me that easily.” Tim slides backwards, shivering. Jason walks out of the room. Tim looks up from under the fridge. He’s not there. A hand appears from the side of the fridge and snatches Tim up. Tim yelps. Jason shifts his grip so he’s holding Tim by his cape. He holds him up to his face, baring his fangs in a grin. Tim claws at his collar, gasping for breath. “I’ve caught you now, little bird.”

Tim bursts into tears. “Don't hurt me!” Tim cries. “I'll be good! I'll do anything!”

Jason snorts and grins sharply. “Anything?”

“Anything!” Tim yells, sobbing.

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Are you that desperate?”

Tim shudders at thes sound. “Yes.” His tears continue dripping, shaking his body violently. He can live in a cage until Jason lets him go.

Jason licks his lips. “I'm holding you to that.” Jason's stomach growls and the man smiles before opening his mouth.

Tim gasps, scrabbling at the man's fingers. “No!” Tim cries. “Don't eat me! I'll be good!” The drop into the awaiting maw is short. Tim tips forward as Jason lowers his head. Tim breathes heavily, his hands sinking into the plush texture of Jason's tongue. A sob wrenches out of his chest. Tim starts crying. “Please… You can have anything, I'll do anything, don't eat me…”

“You told me you'd do anything so I wouldn't hurt you,” Jason says around him. “I made my choice.”

“Please,” Tim sobs, shaking.

Jason chuckles. “You're cute, lil chick.” He rolls Tim around on his tongue, coating him in shimmering saliva. Tim wriggles the best he can, pushing at Jason's teeth. Jason lets out an amused huff. Then he tips his head back and swallows.

His throat is tight around Tim, pulling him down. Tim’s arms are pinned above him. There's no room for him to struggle. Tim lets out heaving sobs, beyond frightened.

After a few seconds, Tim is deposited in Jason's stomach, splashing to the bottom. Tim presses his hands against the walls, soaking wet.

Jason’s stomach glows a faint neon green. No, it’s not his stomach that’s glowing, it’s his saliva and the small pool of acid that Tim is sitting in. (If Tim was less panicked, he’d notice that he’s not being burnt by it, so it can’t be stomach acid.)

Jason lets out a small burp. “‘Cuse me.” There's a quiet tapping and Tim yelps as hands message him from the outside. “You hit the spot.” Tim struggles underneath them, gasping as the pressure increases. “Don't get any ideas,” Jason says. “You're mine.”

Tim kicks him once more, tears streaming down his face. He curls up, putting his head on his knees. This is it. This is the end of him. Jason hiccups, patting his stomach once more.

It's muggy and damp and far too warm, the feeling causing Tim to feel horrifically tired. If he falls asleep now, he might not ever wake up. But Tim doesn't want to know what being digested would feel like, so he closes his eyes and ignores the movements of Jason walking, the quiet ping of a Zeta Tube, the sound of a motorbike. The swaying rocks Tim to sleep.

------

Tim wakes up covered in slime.

Tim wakes up?

Tim groggily opens his eyes, looking around. He's still inside Jason's stomach, which looks different at this sideways angle. Slime, the texture unlike the saliva Tim was swallowed down with, coats the entirety of Jason’s stomach. And Tim as well. Tim shudders, wrapping his damp cape around himself. It’s awful. He wants to go home. He wants to live.

Jason’s stomach groans around him and Jason yawns. There’s pressure on Tim’s side as Jason rubs his stomach. Gravity shifts as he presumably sits up. “Are you awake?”

Tim stays silent, scared at the thought of dying.

“I’m asking as a courtesy,” Jason says. “I know you’re awake.”

Tim swallows. “Y-yeah?”

“He speaks! How did you sleep?”

Tim hesitates. It’s frightening in here, but he actually slept fine. “Uh. Okay.”

“Great,” Jason says. “Do you want out?”

“...What?”

“Are you ready for me to let you out?”

Tim presses his hands against the walls, shifting into a sitting position. “You’re going to let me out?” His voice is small.

“I promised I wouldn’t hurt you,” Jason says. His hand rubs against Tim’s side. “I don’t intend on you staying in there forever.”

Tim swallows, queasy. Tears prick at his eyes. “Y-yeah, I want to get out.”

Jason hums in acknowledgment. “Give me a minute.” Tim, the saliva, and the slime rock in Jason’s stomach as the man stands up. Tim would find the swaying back and forth motion relaxing if he wasn’t inside a stomach.

G-d he’s inside a stomach. He still can’t really believe it. A glowing stomach that didn’t even digest him, but a stomach, nonetheless. Tim takes a deep breath, trying to keep the panic at bay. He can hear Jason’s even breathing and his steady heartbeat. Jason’s stomach burbles around him.

Tim can hear Jason doing something, even if he can’t tell what. Then cold water enters through Jason’s throat, swallow after swallow. The water soaks Tim even further, causing him to shiver. “H-hey,” Tim protests weakly.

“I need the water, Cocoa Bean,” Jason says. Cocoa bean? “You’d get stuck. Are you ready?”

“Yes, please…” Tim shudders at the thought of staying in Jason’s stomach any longer.

The muscles around Tim compress, forcing him upwards. He gasps, the compression around him worse on the way back up. He’s deposited in Jason’s mouth, covered in slime and saliva. Jason opens his mouth, spitting Tim into his hands. “There we go. That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Jason smiles slightly.

“You ate me!” Tim yells, which is admittedly a bad thing to do to someone over ten times your size. “I… I thought I was going to die!”

“Ah, I told you I wouldn’t hurt you, though. That was on you.” Jason drops Tim in the sink and pulls the moveable faucet off its stand. Jason turns the water on, testing the heat with his fingers. “Hold still.” Jason sprays Tim with the faucet, washing off the slime and saliva. Tim flinches as the water hits him, slowly relaxing into the heat. “There you go, Cocoa Bean. Nice and clean for your return to Nightwing.” Jason rubs him dry with a dish towel then gently removes him from the sink. Tim shivers at the sudden loss in heat. He doesn’t struggle, afraid of falling if he does. Jason places him on the counter and rubs his hair with a finger.

Tim returns to his normal size at the same speed he shrank. Jason lifts him and tosses him over his shoulder. Tim yelps. With one hand, Jason puts his helmet on. “Let’s go, chick.” He swings his legs out the window and climbs out, shutting it with one hand. Jason jumps over the rooftops, Tim wriggling in his grasp. “Stop struggling, please. I don’t want you to go splat.” Tim does as he’s told.

Tim can see Dick standing on a rooftop just outside Crime Alley, the Nightwing suit a brutal contrast against the rising sun. Jason comes to a stop next to him. “Hello, Nightwing.” Jason shoves Tim into Dick’s hands. “Your birdy has been delivered. Pleasure doing business with you.” Jason turns and goes another way, likely to a different safehouse than the one the two just spent the night in.

Dick sets Tim down, busying himself with fretting. “Are you injured? Did he hurt you? What happened?”

Tim wonders if he should inform Dick that his younger brother is alive and can eat people. What he says instead is, “I’m fine, it was scary but I was safe.” Time to pack this all in a box and never think about it again.

Dick hugs Tim tightly. “I’m glad. I… I couldn’t lose another one.”

Ah. Tim probably made the right decision in not telling him then. Tim lets Dick pull him along, glancing back at Crime Alley. Jason is nowhere to be seen.

Tim lets Dick drag him back to the cave. He’s ready for a bath and some proper sleep. This was the most exhausting thing he’s ever experienced.

Eh, could’ve been worse. He could be dead.

Tim’s shower is short and sweet and he blacks out the minute his head touches his pillow. Home sweet home.

[jkknight98]

Bite-Sized Bats 1

So after who knows how long it's been, I'm finally making a comeback to writing again and it's for a new fandom, the DC universe! I hope everyone enjoys this first part of a series I am doing with Batman and Superman at its center. Of course, do not share this to the main fandom tag, and if you send me hate messages, do get a better hobby.

Warnings: Soft vore, implied character death, injuries, strong language.

Life in Gotham was never easy; the local populace was constantly infighting between the rich and lower class; villains and heroes caused property damage almost daily; and even the city atmosphere had an air of despair hanging around it. It was rare that a new building would stay pristine before it quickly ‘broke in’ as the city accepted it, robbery being the most common form. The normal citizen would always need to walk with both eyes and ears open, or else they would be robbed, killed, or used in a hostage situation by one of the many villain groups. Life in Gotham was tough, but somehow people managed to do it.

The other aspect of Gotham life that didn't help keep things easy was the secondary caste system that labeled everyone as either Predator, Standard, or Prey. A predator was a metahuman with enhanced senses and instincts like that of their categorization; they were a predator wearing a human mask, with mannerisms that caused the other casts to be wary of their very presence. They also have a dangerous ability to produce a strong pheromone when they enter a hunting state, having a major impact on prey castes and only affecting standards if the predator is especially strong or ravenous. It wasn’t uncommon that before the modernization of society, predators would actively hunt the other two groups for both sustenance and sport; now it happens rarely due to the work of the Gotham police. One would be a fool to think that it still didn’t happen behind closed doors and paid off hands, however. A predator takes full control of the prey or weakened standard when they shrink them down, especially in the case they decide to swallow them. This is done as a means to gain sustenance in an especially cruel manner, or in some worse situations, a predator has full control over their digestive system to create a living prison.

A prey is a metahuman that is almost indistinguishable from the Standard but is heavily influenced by a predator's pheromones, forcing them to become frantic and compress in size to hide/escape from the threat. This may have been advantageous when there were hiding places in the outdoors, but it would have almost become a death sentence if the city wasn’t so cluttered. Prey have also grown to be as difficult or unappealing to consume as possible, their anatomy changing to look as similar to predators as possible or to have a more lanky appearance to hide the hidden muscular system in their body. These metahumans are built to move and escape from any potential predation, so they excel in more athletic and sport-related career fields to keep their skills fresh, but it was too easy for a predatory manager to decide to thin his team and write it off as,’ They decided to pursue a different career path’.

The standard is, as the name itself states, they’re a human that can’t produce a predator's pheromones or be as easily influenced by them as a prey is. They sit in the middle ground as they usually can’t compete with the hyper-competitiveness of the predator while also lacking the physical abilities to compete with prey, leaving them to balance between the two sides without being attacked by either, almost acting as the mediator between the two. This wasn’t always the case as there would forever be bad blood between the two, and even a standard human could find themselves being shrunk or faced with the savagery of a cornered prey. 

But there is a glimmer of hope when a Predator decides to act against their nature and becomes the silent hero of Gotham, becoming both a symbol of hope for all three casts and an annoyance for those who seek the old ways or pure chaos.

~

Bruce sighed as he adjusted the black tie at his neck, both loosening and tightening it as his mind continued to wander. This event was supposed to act as a memorial for the passing of his parents as well as a means to raise funds to end the predator-on-prey violence charity he started ages ago, but he can’t help but think back to that fateful night down crime alley...

Bruce couldn’t help but laugh as he ran about the alleyway with his arms spread wide and spinning about; he wanted to be just like the superhero in the movies. He looked back at his parents with a hopeful smile. "Do you think I could be a hero too, even if I’m a prey?”

He remembered the look his parents shared before his father leaned down and ruffled his hair with a soft smile: "Well, we may not be like the superheroes on screen, but we are heroes to our fellow prey. By being at the top of the social ladder as we are, we beat out those predators and stand as a shining example for our people.”

His father was smiling so brightly when he finished that statement, it made Bruce’s heart sore with happiness... But a subtle smell caught his nose and caused both him and his parents to freeze. Bruce couldn’t even open his mouth before he was pulled behind his father and into the protective grasp of his mother, but it didn’t stop the smell from growing stronger. It was an almost heavy smell, full of musk and a sour smell of breath, which sent his hair to stand on end... This was the smell of a predator.

“Damn Wayne Family... stupid prey not knowing their place... even with all your money... I’ll show you where you belong on the food chain.” Stepping out of the shadows was a disheveled man; his clothes and physical appearance likened him to a coyote, a lurking predator that excelled in the city's darkened alleyways. He bared his teeth in a predatory smile that oozed hatred while the air started to grow thick with a sickly sweet smell.

Bruce’s father tried to pull out a handheld air purifier (a handy device that attempted to ward off a predator's pheromones), but the man tackled him to the ground before he could. His mother couldn’t help but scream at the sight before her, unfortunately causing her to breathe in deeply, which she realized as she turned and shoved Bruce toward the entrance as her body started to convulse. "Brucie... Run baby... and don’t stop til you get home!”

Bruce froze as his eyes traveled over his mother’s shoulder to see the man standing up with his shrunken father in his hands, squeezing him tightly as he laughed loudly, ”How do you like that Wayne, being put in your rightful place… I’m going to do that to your bitchy wife and bratty son too~” He lifted his father upwards and opened his mouth wide, Bruce turned and started to run as fast as he could. He stumbled slightly as his own body started to shake from his own exposure to the pheromones, feeling tears roll down his face and he fell and scraped his knees, staining the pants he and his mother worked so hard to pick out to match his father's.

He turned at the sound of his mother’s scream and cried harder at the sight, his mother's pearl necklace had been ripped from her neck and the white orbs were sent flying across the alleyway all while she was rapidly shrinking like his father. The Predator was standing over her form cackling as he watched her shrink, saying something that Bruce forced himself to block out as he got back to his feet and ran out of the alleyway, trying to blink away tears as his mother's screams grew fainter. He stumbled again as his body tried to stop the shrinking, but his training was done in a safe setting with a predator his family trusted, but this was real and the effect much stronger.

“Oooh Wayne Bratt…..Where did you go??”

Bruce froze at the crooning voice of the predator, he needed to hide because he couldn’t run anymore at his now tiny size. He looked for the best hiding space he could and dove into an opening formed by a collapsed building, hoping to find safety in the rubble and trash. He burrowed his way deeper into the debris and dirt hoping to hide his terrified scent and hide anything that would stand out, especially his crisp white button-down that Alfred worked so hard to iron. He made his way to a wall and curled tightly against it, using the small opening made by a water-wilted box to keep an eye out for his hunter… just when he thought he could relax and think he could think of a plan to get home… the voice came again.

“Are you here Bratt, this is the closest place a prey could get to at your size, you think I won’t smell you out, all you rich trash smell the same..” He couldn’t see the man yet but he could feel the small tremor of the man’s steps…. Almost as if he was in the dinosaur movie his father sometimes watched that had the T-rex and its booming steps….he wondered if this is how that goat felt. A shadow fell over his box and Bruce just closed his eyes to accept what was coming… he couldn’t fight or run anymore…but at least he would be with his parents.

But something else happened.

“Damn Bats…Rats with wings!!” The shadow moved away as a flurry of squeaks filled the air and the man left the building,” Damn kid probably isn’t here…” The muttering grew fainter as the man moved on, leaving Bruce in total disbelief…

It wasn't until a few hours later that a worried Alfred went to leave the manor to search for the missing Waynes and he stumbled upon a very disheveled Bruce just outside the manor grounds. The boy somehow managed to make it back though he looked like he'd been drugged through hell, and when he got the sob-filled story from the boy, the older man couldn’t help but think he did. Alfred knelt and pulled the boy to his chest, ignoring the smell of filth, and had to stop a protective growl at the scent of a predator on his young master.

“Come on Master Bruce, let's get you a bath drawn and I’ll set you up in your parent's room for the night.”

He tried to pull his arms away, but when the boy's arms tightened around his neck, Alfred sighed and resigned himself to lift the young master into his arms. He slowly began to walk back towards the manor as he listened to the boy's muffled sobbing, he liked working for the Waynes, even with the fact he was also a predator. He would take his own time to grieve the loss later but for now, he needed to focus on the boy he also viewed as a surrogate son, the young master will need a lot of help for this trama but he would see to it that all of Thomas’s and Martha’s work would not be in vain. 

His eyes were drawn upwards as a group of bats darted around overhead as they chased the midnight insects, he was oddly drawn to them.

~

“You’re going to wear out the fabric of that tie, Master Bruce, are you trying to start a fire with it, That really would put on a show for those stuck-up predators out there.” Bruce jumped slightly when Alfred appeared behind him in the mirror, the older man smiling softly up at him as he moved around him, gentle hands reaching up to fix the tie to perfection.

“You are truly a skilled man Alfred; I would never have defeated that horrible thing.” Bruce couldn’t help but crack the joke as the older man huffed in disappointment, but enjoyed the comforting feeling of the man’s warm hands as they brushed away any wrinkled or speck of dust he must have missed when he pulled on the suit. “I’ll be fine Alfred, I’ll deal with those predators trying to intimidate me into making deals or threaten to eat me with the hors d’oeuvres we will be serving tonight... What do you think I would go best with?”

Alfred could only huff as he turned away to check his attire for any blemishes,” For the bullheaded attitude like to take up with me and the villains you face... You would pair best with a toasted crostini with whipped goat cheese and pesto while you act as the sliced tenderloin, but you will not be on the menu tonight, Master Bruce.” The elder gentleman then turned to leave the room, pausing just enough to slightly ruffle the younger man's hair before he fully left, his voice echoing in the halls as he directed other staff to their roles for the night.

Bruce huffed as he tried to smooth his hair, ”What kind of butler ruffles his master’s hair.”

[trashytummies]

Swallowed Pride (DC vore fic)

a/n: have a protective Nightwing ft. unwilling Jason prey vore fic. lil batfamily vibsey <3. oh and jason also has some not fun memories of dying. I adore vore fics with swapping perspectives so I'm sorry if this is confusing ;_; word count: ~4100?

_____

Jason groaned, a low rasp slipping out of his throat. His surroundings pulsed with a damp, oppressive heat that clawed at his skin, slicking his gloves and making it almost impossible to catch his breath. His ribs ached, and every inch of him felt trapped in this unrelenting, humid vise. He tried to shift, to get his back against something solid, but every motion was swallowed up, met with a suffocating resistance.

"Alright," he muttered, voice hoarse. “This is… new.”

The taste in the air was wrong. A grimace twisted his face as he tried to shift, finding no space to move, wedged between layers of damp, fleshy walls. Not rock. Not exactly wet stone, either. Just too soft. Too warm.

Not rubble. Nothing jagged. Smooth. 

The sound of his own breathing grew louder, rasping in and out as he tried to twist himself free. But all he managed was to slide further down this bizarre chute. A flicker of panic flashed across his mind, sharp and unwelcome. It tugged at something buried deep, something he didn’t let himself think about, ever. But it was there now; the sensation of heat, tightness, the press of earth and smoke. Like that day. Like-- 

No. Nope, he wasn’t doing that. Not thinking about that, not now.

His mind buzzed, digging through memories. He’d been with the team; Red, Nightwing, and yeah, of course, Bats. The mission had gotten a little out of hand; Tim needed backup, and -- then what? Everything between then and now was a haze. A big, dripping, burning haze.

Jason tried to focus, replaying the moments just before; the alley, then that abandoned office building, and then… nothing. And now this cave-like, sweltering pit. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, smearing against his mask as he twisted, trying to plant his knees against something solid. Every breath felt like he was sucking down steam, heat pressing on him from every angle.

"Okay, Todd. Get it together. Think.” He glanced around --or tried to, anyway, but there was no way to tell which way was up or down. Just that same smooth, slimy pressure squeezing in on all sides, his own breaths coming back hot against his face.

“Hey, anyone out there?” he called, the words half-lost in the wet slap of whatever lined this... place. But all he got was a soft, rhythmic groan surrounding him, almost like a heartbeat, steady and smothering.

Another wave of pressure tightened around him, shoving him further into the suffocating darkness. His heart pounded, thoughts scattering like shrapnel, sharp and fast. Buried alive. That sick, clawing sensation washed over him, dredging up memories he had no intention of revisiting. Explosions. Dirt pressing in on him, the weight of concrete and metal trapping him, his own voice screaming for help, and--

No. Not now.

He gritted his teeth, frustration biting deep. “Red? Wing? I swear, if you two left me in a sewer pipe or something...” He twisted his head, grumbling to himself, but everything came out muffled, absorbed by this pulsing, humid space.

_________________________

Rewind 

Rewind

Rewind

The scene swirled back into focus, through the last thirty chaotic minutes that landed on the exact moment Dick realized something was really wrong.

Jason was supposed to be covering the south side, running point with Tim across the courtyard. But when Dick looked back after clearing a corner, he’d caught sight of Jason crumpling, mid-swing, into the pavement. Jason wasn’t just down; he was tiny. Like, two inches max, knocked out cold, and sprawled out on the ground.

Dick’s jaw had practically hit the rooftop. “Holy shit,” he hissed, blinking hard like maybe he’d just taken a hit to the head himself.

Nope.

That was definitely Jason, definitely bite-sized, and lying defenseless in the middle of Gotham’s grimiest alley. He barely had time to process it, and he was not about to leave Jason sitting in the gutter like some abandoned Happy Meal toy.

Okay, Grayson. Think.

He glanced down at his suit, mentally running through every hidden pocket and compartment. Utility belt? No way -- too much jostling. The pocket lining would probably suffocate the guy, or worse, turn him into shrunken pulp if Dick took a hit. Same with any of his stash spots. Then the next best thought crossed his mind -- and immediately died a fiery death.

But hell, with the goons doubling back, any hesitation could leave Jason vulnerable, or worse. He had seconds to act.

So he did something that, in his defense, seemed like the only solution in the moment.

One quick breath, and he scooped Jason up, tipping him carefully onto his tongue. Jason’s tiny body felt solid, almost surprisingly weighty, considering his new size. Dick hesitated, the reality of this insane decision finally hitting home. He closed his eyes, steeling himself, and with the gentlest nudge, he swallowed.

It was, well, uncomfortable didn’t even start to cover it. Jason slipped down in a slow, thick slide, an odd pressure that made Dick grit his teeth. Each inch felt painfully deliberate, his throat constricting around Jason’s shape until he finally, mercifully, settled in place. Dick coughed, trying to compose himself just in time to hear Tim's footsteps against the concrete as he caught up.

“Dick!” Tim called, eyes scanning him over, then narrowing. “What the hell was that?”

Dick barely managed to suppress another cough, swallowing hard. “What was what?” he choked out, voice barely steady.

Tim’s brow arched, skeptical, like he’d seen through every bullshit excuse Dick had ever tried in his entire life. “I saw you cough up a lung. And you’re still flushed. Look, if you’ve got something going on with your suit tech or whatever--”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Dick cut in, waving it off, trying to play up his usual charm. He gave Tim a reassuring, if slightly strained, grin. “Just--went down the wrong pipe. Happens to the best of us, right?”

Tim looked at him for a long second, head tilted, the gears clearly turning. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Dick cleared his throat one more time for emphasis. “Trust me, if I had something important to tell you, I’d tell you. Now, can we focus? There’s still three of them left.” He jerked his thumb toward the next building. “I’ll take the high ground. You flush them out?”

Tim still looked at him sideways, but he gave a reluctant nod, his gaze flicking down to Dick’s throat once more before turning back to the mission. “Fine, but if you pass out mid-jump or whatever, I’m telling Babs.”

Dick barely restrained a wince, waving Tim off as he darted toward the next alleyway. One hour, tops, he told himself. Just get the job done, clear out the area, and get Jason out safely before he has a chance to do more than mumble a few pissed-off words.

“Hang tight, Jaybird,” he muttered under his breath.

_______________________

The tight, slick walls squeezed in around him, pressing at his shoulders and ribs, forcing him to push forward just to breathe. Every inch he gained seemed to make it worse --the stifling heat, the reek of rot, like old food left out too long. Jason sucked in a shallow breath, trying to steady himself, only for the sour stench to claw at his throat. He grimaced.

"Great," he muttered, voice muffled and weak in the humid dark. "I get to suffocate and smell like someone’s garbage disposal. Just my luck."

He shoved forward, the cramped space finally loosening just enough for him to wriggle through, half crawling, half dragged along by whatever was coating these walls. He pushed his hands out and found --thank god-- something resembling open space. Not by much, but he could almost stretch out his arms, which had to count for something.

Except it didn’t. If anything, it was somehow worse in here.

The stench punched him square in the gut, stomach-churning in a way that brought back memories he’d worked pretty damn hard to bury. The heat. The way it pressed down on him, cloying, sticky, unyielding. The dark was so thick it was like he could feel it pressing in on his skin. Too close to those old memories. Too close to the kind of helpless that made his chest feel like it might cave in.

Jason let out a low, shaky breath, pressing his palm to the wall for some semblance of stability. "Come on, Todd. Focus. Think." He closed his eyes and let his mind drift back to training, his instincts settling in. What the hell even is this place? The entire thing was soft, slick, like… flesh.

“Okay, no, that’s insane. I’m not…” He swallowed, panic prickling at the edges of his mind. But the clues pieced together too neatly, each one sliding in like a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. The walls, the cramped squeeze, the pulsing, muffled beat that droned around him like a heartbeat. His mind filled in the blanks faster than he wanted, and all at once, the truth slammed into him, cold and hard.

I’m in a stomach.

A stomach. A literal fucking stomach.

The idea hit him with a nauseating kind of clarity that almost made him laugh. He’d been trained by the world’s greatest detective, could read Gotham’s dirtbags better than most, and now he was trapped here, in someone’s gut, like the punchline to a twisted joke he never asked for.

He blinked, swallowing down a rush of bile. “So that’s it, huh?” he rasped, pressing his back to the fleshy wall, the whole setup feeling like some cruel rerun of a life he’d already lived. “I got blown up once. Came back, just to get tossed down the gullet. Nice. Really nice, universe. I appreciate it.”

The walls around him pulsed again, contracting in a slow, smothering rhythm, dragging his thoughts to that dark corner of his mind he tried to keep locked away. Buried alive. Alone. Left for dead. Panic tried clawing its way up his throat, but he shoved it down, clenching his fists until his gloves squeaked against the slick wall. Not like this.

No way he was letting some freak’s digestive tract do him in.

________________________________

Dick ducked under a swinging fist, pivoting out of the way with practiced ease. But the moment he twisted, a sudden sharp scratch clawed up from the pit of his stomach. He doubled over, a hand instinctively pressing against his abdomen, muttering under his breath.

“Oh, so you’re awake,” he grunted, voice low enough to avoid Tim’s ears but sharp enough to keep his irritation real. “And apparently pissed off.”

Jason gave another few furious kicks --or punches, maybe a full-body tantrum-- against the walls of Dick’s stomach, which only made him wince harder. Man, this is… Well, it was something. Distracting as hell, actually, when he was in the middle of a brawl with some of Gotham’s least creative henchmen.

Tim’s eyes zeroed in on him, skeptical, a hard squint as he landed a punch and sidled up. “Uh, you good? ‘Cause you’re making faces like you just ate bad sushi.”

“Yeah, yeah, just a little… stomach thing,” Dick managed, breath catching as Jason squirmed again. He leaned into his strikes, using the motion to cover a particularly sharp jab coming from inside.

Tim just kept staring, a brow arching. “In the middle of a fight? You’re usually more… I dunno. Here.”

“I am here,” Dick muttered through clenched teeth, grabbing the last thug by the collar and slamming him into the nearest wall. Jason gave one last pointed kick that nearly knocked the wind out of him, and he couldn’t help it -- his hand went to his stomach again. He tried to school his face, look normal, like he wasn’t dealing with a very angry, very miniature Jason Todd wreaking havoc from within.

The final goon dropped, and before Dick could so much as take a breath, Tim was right there, narrowing his eyes in that too-perceptive way he always did when he suspected something was up.

“Alright,” Tim said, crossing his arms, his usual calm replaced with the full-blown Red Robin glare. “Mind telling me what’s going on with you tonight? I’m standing there, fighting for my life, and you’re out here rubbing your stomach like you’re at a bad buffet.” He tilted his head, lowering his voice. “And where the hell is Jason? He just up and left us? Doesn’t strike me as his style.”

Dick stifled the urge to cough again, glancing away to avoid Tim’s piercing gaze. Damn it, he’s good at this. “Maybe he had somewhere else to be,” he said, attempting casual. “You know how he is. Doesn’t tell us everything.”

Tim’s eyebrow crept higher, skepticism practically radiating off him. “He doesn’t tell Bruce everything, but he doesn’t just disappear mid-mission with no heads-up. I get he’s Jason, but this is Gotham. And you’re… weirdly calm about it.”

Dick forced a quick shrug, looking anywhere but Tim’s face. “Maybe I just trust him to handle himself.” He winced as Jason scratched at him again, pressing his hand to his side as subtly as he could. “Ow-- I mean, what? You know, he’s--he’s Jason.”

Tim folded his arms tighter, a smirk quirking at his lips. “And you’re stammering like you’ve got a guilty conscience. What gives?”

Dick could feel his cover slipping fast, and he knew he’d have to come up with something, and soon. For now, he just put on his best carefree grin, hoping it was enough to get Tim to lay off.

_______________________________

The reality of his situation settled in slowly, like the world's worst punchline unfurling in slow motion. Inside a stomach. He could practically feel the bile rising. Yeah, Jason Todd had been through his share of nightmares, but this was a new low even for him. Of all the places to wind up, he’d somehow managed to get himself swallowed. Just phenomenal.

"Just where I always wanted to end up," he muttered to himself, voice barely a whisper against the damp walls pressing around him. "A one-way ticket back to near-death, and for what? One more brush with the great beyond? Because dying was just such a blast the first time.”

He took a breath, trying to steady himself against the rippling walls, feeling the clench and pull of the gut as it tried to drag him deeper. He stifled a gag, the acrid stench of half-digested food coating every breath he took. Focus, Todd. Don’t think about the smell. Or the rotting mush sliding under his feet. Or that disgusting, rhythmic gurgle echoing in his ears like a twisted lullaby.

Alright, let's see if he could at least figure out who this idiot was. He couldn’t tell much by sound -- the voice was muted, a low vibration rumbling around him like he was underwater, though he could at least pick out a male inflection. But he couldn’t just be in some random guy’s gut, right? There was someone out there with a reason to swallow the Red Hood, and… actually, nope. Scratch that. He couldn’t think of a single person willing or twisted enough to get him into this mess.

Well, almost no one.

The last thing he remembered was dealing with Clayface’s thugs, swinging punches alongside Nightwing and Red Robin. He’d been right there with them, taking out the stragglers and rounding up the goons. And then… well, then things got fuzzy. Had he been teleported? Knocked out? Honestly, being devoured alive was just insane enough to be one of Joker’s sick stunts, but no—it didn’t feel… Joker-y enough. Even he’d probably keep Jason alive just to laugh in his face.

Jason sucked in another breath, fighting the nausea clawing up his throat. “So, let’s recap,” he mumbled, digging his nails into the slippery wall. “Stuck in a guy’s gut, no memory of how I got here, no idea who the hell ate me, and oh--right. I’m literally going to die in here. Just peachy.”

The stomach lurched suddenly, sending him sliding down, only to be shoved back up again by another ripple of muscle. He grimaced, trying to brace himself. And then, through the muffled tones and the heavy, distorted beat of the stomach around him, he caught something he’d recognize anywhere--a voice. And not just any voice, that same light, upbeat cadence that he’d heard a million times, the one that used to ring in his ears with the kind of brightness that could only belong to one person.

“No way,” he whispered, his eyes narrowing in the darkness as the realization hit him like a sucker punch. It couldn’t be. He’d never be stupid enough to do something like this. But the voice, the stupid cadence, and the sheer insanity of it all were enough to make it click. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Nightwing. Dick freaking Grayson.

Jason clenched his fists, the weight of his current humiliation settling like lead in his stomach. “Of all the stupid, reckless--” he muttered, barely able to believe it. Out of every sadistic nutcase in Gotham, he’d somehow ended up inside Dick. If it weren’t happening to him right now, he’d actually laugh.

Great. Just great. Buried, literally, in the “Golden Boy.” There was something sickeningly poetic about it, and he almost hated how much it fit. The guy he’d spent years trying to measure up to, fighting to be worthy of the role, who he’d half-convinced himself Bruce could never replace. And now here he was, trapped in the one guy he’d always felt himself shadowed by. Life had a real sense of humor sometimes.

“Grayson,” he muttered, pressing a hand to his chest to keep himself from dry-heaving, “you better pray I don’t get out of here.”

Because the dark, cramped, disgustingly hot pit was a nightmare Jason wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. The fact that it was Dick’s stomach? Oh, that just made it all the worse.

Jason shifted, grimacing as his fingers slid against the slick, half-digested remnants of… falafel? He gagged, pressing his hands against the walls as best as he could to brace himself, feeling another wave of that foul, acidic slosh roll over his boots.

“This is the absolute last time I team up with Grayson,” he muttered, gritting his teeth as he shoved his way up, the sour smell sticking to him, burning his throat with every breath. “And when I get out of here, I swear to god, I’m gonna make him regret every single inch of it.”

Of course, it couldn’t be anyone else’s stomach, right? Oh no. This whole thing was practically a sick joke. Here he was, stuck inside the guy he’d spent years trying to compete with, the guy who --whether Jason wanted to admit it or not-- always seemed to have it together. Meanwhile, Jason Todd was three inches tall, covered in stomach acid, and stuck in Grayson’s gut. Story of his life.

Just then, he felt a jolt, followed by a shift that had him sliding, face-first, right back into the half-digested slush at the bottom. He clenched his teeth, fighting back a wave of frustration. “Of all the idiotic, harebrained ideas, this was the best he could come up with?”

______________________________

Outside, things were deceptively calm. The last of the thugs had been cuffed and loaded up for the GCPD, and Tim and Dick were strolling down the street toward one of Gotham’s all-night fast-food joints. Tim was keeping pace beside him, shooting glances at Dick every few steps.

“So… we’re not going to talk about how Jason just vanished?” Tim asked, giving him a look that was a few levels below ‘judgmental’ but still in ‘I’m not buying this’ territory.

Dick shrugged, a bit too casually. “He’s Jason. Vanishing is half his style.”

“Yeah, sure,” Tim muttered, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. “Except usually, he at least gives us a heads-up, or a ‘screw you guys’ wave before bailing. And you’re weirdly chill about it.”

Dick held back a sigh, trying not to squirm under the scrutiny. Just play it cool, he told himself. “I’m telling you, Tim, he’s fine. He probably just needed a minute. You know him. He’s not exactly the warm and fuzzy regroup type.”

Tim’s frown only deepened, and he looked one small mental step away from phoning Bruce for a full-scale intervention. “Fine, you’re not gonna tell me. But if he’s actually in trouble, I’ll drag his ass back here myself.” He glanced at Dick. “You’re acting weird tonight, just so you know.”

“Appreciate the vote of confidence,” Dick muttered. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look casual as they stepped inside the fast-food joint. After ordering, he gave Tim a quick pat on the shoulder. “Hey, I’ll be right back -- gotta hit the bathroom.”

Tim didn’t even try to hide his suspicion. “Yeah, sure. Take your time,” he muttered, watching him disappear down the hallway like he was mentally cataloging every weird thing Dick had done that night.

________________________________

The bathroom was barely cleaner than the streets outside, but Dick didn’t have time to be picky. He closed the door behind him and took a breath, steadying himself as he braced against the sink. He could feel Jason still squirming, punching and scratching against the walls of his stomach.

“Alright, here goes…” he muttered, hoping to hell this wasn’t about to go from weird to grotesque.

With a few deep breaths and a not-so-gentle cough, he felt the painful push as Jason finally slid up and out, spilling into his hand. Dick exhaled heavily, trying to shake off the discomfort as he looked down at the soaked, very, very irritated mini-Jason sprawled out in his palm.

Jason wiped the gunk off his helmet with a grimace, barely glancing at Dick as he dragged himself to his feet. “Well, that was disgusting.”

Dick forced a grin, trying to keep things light. “Hey, I got you out, didn’t I?”

Jason’s glare could’ve cut through concrete. “In your stomach, Grayson. I spent the last hour drowning in… whatever the hell that was!” He flicked another glob of half-digested falafel off his jacket. “Didn’t exactly help that you ate before deciding to pull that little stunt.”

Dick winced. “I mean, it’s not like I planned on eating you, Jay. Just… improvised.”

“Yeah, well, next time, how about you don’t improvise by swallowing me whole?” Jason shot back, crossing his arms and bristling like a wet, angry cat. “Who even thinks swallowing someone is a good idea? Couldn’t just carry me around in your pocket or -- oh, I don’t know, figure out literally anything else?”

Dick shrugged, still trying to play it cool. “I was out of options. And I kept you safe, didn’t I?”

“Oh yeah, thanks. Real safe, Grayson. Look at me.” Jason held his arms out, dripping, his jacket half-eaten by stomach acid. “I look like I got tossed in a blender with a lunch special.”

Dick sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, alright. Maybe it wasn’t my best idea. But hey, you’re not too worse for wear, right?”

Jason let out a laugh, bitter and biting, eyes narrowed. “Right. Well, good to know that I rank just below ‘half-eaten falafel’ on your list of things that matter. Just toss me in the garbage while you’re at it.”

Dick’s face softened, a flicker of guilt creeping in. “C’mon, Jay, that’s not--”

Jason held up a hand, cutting him off. “Save it. And for the record? Releasing me in a fast food bathroom? Way to show the love, Grayson. Real classy.”

Dick pressed his lips together, barely holding back a smirk. “Well, next time, maybe try to stay regular-sized, and we won’t have this problem.”

Jason shot him a look that could freeze lava. “Next time, Grayson, I’m shoving you into a sewer pipe and seeing how long it takes for you to complain about it.”

Dick raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.” He glanced down at the tiny, furious figure in his hand and gave him a soft, almost apologetic smile. “You, uh, need a rinse or…?”

Jason rolled his eyes, wiping another layer of gunk off his boots. “Yeah, try a hundred. And maybe a therapist on standby after all this.”

Dick grinned, finally letting out a small chuckle. “Fair enough. Remind me not to tell Tim about this?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to remind me,” Jason grumbled, crossing his arms. “Now, can we please get me out of this hellhole? And, for the record, if you ever pull this crap again…” He trailed off, fixing Dick with a hard glare. “Let’s just say I know exactly where to aim the next time I get a crowbar in my hands.”

Dick just shook his head, chuckling as he carefully tucked Jason --dignity shot, pride thoroughly bruised-- into his jacket pocket. “Alright, Red. I owe you one.”

[aztecbrujeria]

TW: Body horror…Vore…Pomegranate state of mind

I’m craving being fucked slowly and roughly by Sukuna on his throne. Him biting and ripping the flesh and tissues off my bones, the marrow exposed as he bites down, the embodiment of being torn to shreds and taken into him, all of me for his hunger. All the while he kisses and licks the side of my face whispering in my ear how much he loves me, how pathetic and how much of a slut I am, how good I am taking all of him. I crave the destruction of myself only meant for him as he has his fill of my mortal vessel…as he’s cursed me with regeneration and feeling every healing fiber and bone while I scream for more while the pleasure over takes all that I am. A constant state of destruction and reincarnation as unstable as the uranium eating the core of Chernobyl.

[phoenixcatch7]

*Slams fic down on your desk like an interrogator does a newspaper*

Absolutely phenomenal dp x dc fic. Awesome concept brilliant plot incredible execution. Pretty much The Single best supporting/mc oc I have ever encountered, such good characterisation, super interactions and relationships, we are healing and growing in this house tonight lads!!!!

[thefanciestborrower]

More DC vore! This time in the form of Dick and Damian hanging out in a certain Bat lol. Dick is way used to this sort of nonsense by now, but Damian is still dealing with the gross factor

[stellarinoms]

Woe. Taur AU vore be upon ye

[fandomymous-anonymous]

*comes into frame with a big cup of boba as if I haven't been missing for a few months* ...I just think that J.ason T.odd has big pred energy, and that B.ruce convinces people that he is a scary one because he's Bat.man but he's actually very sweet

[trashytummies]

jason & dick crack vore excerpt

the plot is really stupid but jason ends up time traveling and ends up in dick NTT era's belly (back when dick was mad angsty and kind of an ass about being robin/leader/away from bruce's shadow/expectations)

_________________

Jason lay back against the now all-too-familiar walls of Dick’s stomach, his arms folded behind his head, staring into the pitch darkness. The soft gurgling sounds were like background noise at this point; white noise for the eternally frustrated.

You know what would really improve the situation? Jason thought, half to himself and half to Dick. A gut air freshener.

The silence that followed was heavy, as if even Dick’s internal organs were processing the sheer absurdity of what Jason had just said.

Seriously, Jason continued, warming to his own idea. I mean, think about it. I could pitch it on Shark Tank. You know, walk in—well, I guess I’d roll in on a cart or something, still one-inch tall—and be like, “Hey, Sharks, are you tired of your stomach being a claustrophobic hellscape filled with digestive smells? Well, I’ve got just the thing for you. Introducing ‘Gut Fresh’—the first-ever air freshener for your insides.”

Jason grinned to himself in the dark, imagining the horrified looks on the faces of the Shark Tank judges as he explained his revolutionary product idea.

We’re talking lemon zest, lavender, maybe a little eucalyptus for that soothing touch. It could be huge. Everyone’s always talking about gut health. Why not gut smell?

Jason, Dick’s voice cut into his mental monologue, flat and thoroughly exhausted. Please stop.

Jason chuckled. What? You don’t think Mr. Wonderful would go for it?

No, Dick groaned. I think this is the stupidest conversation we’ve ever had. And that’s saying something.

[masaroisu26]

[kilowogcore]

Ya' remember the old days? When everything wuz simpler? When there weren't all this technology, all these rushin' cars, an' also when there weren't no Earth an' everhthin' wuz just the howlin' void?

Old Atum remembers, an' he regrets changin' that every day.

Now go eat people.

(Art sampled from "Catwoman" Vol. 5 #66 by Tini Howard, Ivan Shavrin, Tom Napolitano, James Reid, and Arianna Turturro. Edits: Altered Dialogue, Altered Balloons, Labels Added.)

[thefanciestborrower]

He stuck a batterang between Clark’s teeth 😔

[stellarinoms]

I'm (briefly) coming out of my hiatus because I found a comic panel that's making take 20d psychic damage. Dick what do you mean by that

WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT???

[fandomymous-anonymous]

All these healing vore posts for the fact that Jason would probably have a healing stomach, due to the L.azarus Pits. There's no reason for this I just think it would be neat.