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dcxdpdabbles · 8 months

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DC x DP: Magic Older Brother

It happens the day of his high school graduation because Casper High is cursed, and the curse personally targets Danny. Danny doesn't care what anyone says. He will die on that hill.

The school is cursed, which is why he turned into a halfa in his freshmen year, throwing his life into chaos all throughout sophomore and junior year, and now that he was finally leaving it, this happens.

An attack by a ghost he has never seen or met before. She calls herself "Lady Gotham," and her name doesn't hint at her power or obsession, unlike other ghosts.

He finds it rather rude of her to burst the graduation ceremony just as they called his name.

Danny knew he could take her- she felt more like a city spirit than a ghost, which means she was terribly weak against Phantom- but with so many witnesses, he hadn't been able to transform. Instead, he was blasted with black tar paste that reverted him to the age of ten, and while he stumbled on tiny legs, she took him and threw him into a portal.

He had attempted to shift into his ghost side as soon as he landed, but something was anchoring his core. It felt like he had been hit with the Plasmius Maximus- his powers were out of reach.

He would not be able to take her in a fight after all.

Thankfully, she had been distracted by his parents attempting to rescue him, so she got trapped on the other side of the portal. Still, he felt it would be safer to get as far away from the random field she kidnapped him to before she could return.

So he was running in an unknown storm, to an unknown location from an unknown city spirit instead of having his graduation party with his friends and eating cake.

"Casper High just couldn't give up even on the last day," Danny grumbles while running through the pouring rain of a terrible storm, trying to see through the water and the howling wind. He was drenched head to toe in the water, and he could feel even his bones shaking. He hasn't been this cold since the day his Ice core materialized.

Up ahead, he spots a building. Praying they will take pity on him, he pushes himself to go faster until he's at the door, banging on it with his tiny fists.

"Is someone there? I need help!" He yells as the wind picks up again, almost throwing Danny off balance. "Open the door, please!"

The door cracks open, and one tiny blue eye peeks up at him briefly before it swings open. "Come in! Hurry!"

Danny doesn't need to be told twice as he all but throws himself into the giant building, away from what he is starting to suspect is a hurricane. He turns around to find a little boy- he couldn't be older than nine- struggling with closing the garage door. Danny is quick to help him, and together, after tucking and grunting, they get it shut.

"Thanks," Danny says trying to gather his breath. He glances around, startled to see he's in a big fancy house that reeks of money, maybe more than Vlad or Sam. It is also deadly silent and bare as if someone only attempted to make it look lived-in but forgot to get humans.

"Don't mention it." The kid says almost under his breath. Danny would think of him as shy if the boy wasn't staring at him without so much as blinking.

Kind of creepy.

"Are you here because of my poster?" The kid asks, and Danny has no idea what he's talking about, but he's not about to make the creepy kid angry.

"Sure am."

The boy beams. "This is the first time anyone has responded! Come this way. I have everything in the main ballroom!"

Danny follows eyes taking in all the tasteful decor of various cultures and the complete lack of any other person present. After getting stranded, he found a mansion tucked away from human contact in search of shelter. Strange how that has happened to him twice

The boy leads him to two large double doors which he proudly opens up with a loud "Ta-da!"

Inside the ballroom are rows and rows of bed cots, blankets, and pillows. On one side of the room are tables with water bottles, bowls of snacks, and even little goodie bags. There are board games on a nearby table and clothes folded neatly in various sizes. Next to the tables are piles of teddy bears.

It looks like a movie set of a makeshift shelter that could easily fit a hundred people. Again there is no one else but them. Double creepy.

The boy skips between the first two cots, gesturing to the room. "You're the first one here, so you can first pick! I have board games, food, and clothes for you to burrow at the front if you want! I'm sure we'll have more people soon if you come!"

Danny offers the kids a weak smile. "Thanks."

"You're welcome! I'll go wait for everyone at the door. You make yourself comfortable."

While Danny cautiously explores, the kid races back to wait at the door for who knows who. The first thing he does is change into a warm set of clothes- picking a grey set of sweat pants and long sleeve that fits his tiny limbs. He grabs a water bottle and a bag of chips before his eyes land on a pile of brightly colored posters, likely forgotten on the table.

Strom Shelter for free at Drak Mansion

Everyone Welcome!

Sleeping, clothes, food and entertainment are provided!

Kids are invited to Tim Drake's birthday party on the same night!

Doors open at 5pm.

Oh gosh. Oh no.

He looks around the completely empty room and, for the first time, notices a small corner with a very sad "Happy Birthday" banner and a few party hats. At the edge of the table sits a folded half-sheet cake with a lopsided candle in the shape of a nine.

Above that little corner is a large clock that reads ten o'clock.

He puts his things down on a random cot, carefully returning to the front door where the little boy- he assumes Tim Drake- is waiting. He's leaning back and forth on his feet, and Danny can barely pick up his soft words.

"It's okay; they're all just really late. One person came this time so more could be on their way! Don't be sad, Tim. Things are looking up!"

Bless his heart.

Danny tries to reach for his ghost powers and grins when his ice core responds. He glances back at the little boy before he slips into the ballroom. He quickly re-decorates the party corner using his ice, making it look like actual decorations.

He even goes out of his way to open bottles of colored juices- he doubts anyone would drink them- and freezes the liquid so it adds a bit of color to the room. He's left with a winter wonderland with ice sculptures of animals- kids like animals, right?- and he gathers a birthday boy.

"Hey, Tim?"

The kid hurries to his side. "Yes? Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I need the birthday boy to cut his cake!"

Danny strong-arms the kid into the room and is delighted by the absolute happiness that blooms over the boy's face once he sees the room. "Wow! Did you do this?"

"Sure did, kid."

"Are you a wizard like Harry Potter?" The boy asks, and Danny has no idea who that is, but he nods anyway. Maybe it's this world's version of Santa Claus? Who is he to deny the kid's sense of wonder.

"Don't tell anyone." He says with a wink.

"But-But- but I'm a muggle!" The boy cries, suddenly horrified. Danny wonders if that's a slur, and if so, he won't allow him to use it to describe himself with it. "You'll get in trouble for using magic before me!"

"Why?"

"Cause muggles can't know about magic unless they are family! They'll throw you in Azkaban!"

Ugh, okay, he can work with that. "Well, I guess this makes us brothers, doesn't it?"

Tim's eyes practically pop right out of his skull. "Really?!

"Yeah, I'll be your big brother. My name is Danny and we can do something you always wanted to do for your birthday. How does that sound?"

"We can do....anything?"

"It depends on what you want to do, as long as it's legal and safe."

"Will.....you read me a bedtime story? I always wanted to know what that's like."

Danny's heart shatters. "Sure of course. What book do you want to read?"

Tim's face goes slightly pink. "The new Harry Potter book just came out. The goblet of fire? Can we read that?"

Oh, so Harry Potter is a book series! "Sure, Tim. Let's cut the cake and then we can pick a cot to pile blankets on to snuggle down and read."

Danny had never seen a kid look so happy in his life "Okay!"

Later, as Tim is tucked into the crook of his neck and shoulder, fast asleep after the exciting chapter of Harry Potter outflying a dragon Danny is visited by Lady Gotham.

It is only because Tim is too comfortable that he doesn't start swinging at her. She explains Tim's life and the obvious neglect before she bends down until her forehead touches the ground and begs Danny to care for him in her stead.

By morning, the Drakes suddenly acquire a new family member, and no one notices how he appeared overnight, but he's in the system, and no one can fault the documents. Lady Gotham made them herself.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Magic older brother #Lady Gotham gets Tim a breother #Harry Potter is a thing in Tim's world but not Danny's #Danny just kind of accepted it #Tim is so happy to have a brother

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sprout-fics · 1 month

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Silver Fox

(Nikolai x F! Reader)

Call of Duty Masterlist

Rating: Explicit (MDNI) Wordcount: 5k Tags: Character study, Age gap, Light Dom/Sub, Fluff, Slowburn, Smut, Dominant Nikolai, Soft Nikolai, Aftercare, Orgasm delay/denial, Light BDSM dynamics, Cuddling, Corruption kink, Brat Taming, Overstimulation, Dirty talk in Russian, Power dynamics, A dose of manipulation but everything is consensual Warnings: Brief mention of capture and torture A/N: This is my first and most likely not my last attempt to write for Nikolai. I really like this dynamic and welcome requests for more

When Nik first meets you, you try to rob him.

You’d been younger then. Wilder, scared of a world you struggled to survive in. With hardly a roof over your head, always an empty belly, chased by ghosts of a past you struggled to leave behind. You were desperate, constantly looking for a way out, clawing and scrambling at the stone alleyways in hopes you could one day see the sky.

He finds you like that- as a dirty, fierce little stray. In a grimy jacket, eyes wild, dirt smeared across your face, you hold up a knife to him and demand his wallet. Stupid, you know, but shivering, scared of the world that was destined to eat you alive, choosing a target far bigger than yourself.

Cute, he’d admitted later.

It takes little effort from him to twist the knife from your hand, examining it as you froze in a shock that only seems to multiply when he asks you if you want a warm meal. The offer is too tempting to ignore to your growling stomach, but in reality it’s the barest hint of softness behind his eyes that has you follow him like a kicked stray out of the cold.

Little did you know, behind that softness lay his own hunger. A deep, prowling thing that circled you beyond your sight.

He takes you to a quiet little eatery, out of the way, only three tables in what amounted to a shed. One of his favorites, he tells you with a smirk. The cook gives you both a look, suspicious of the man who had escorted in a woman much younger than him, dirty and nervous as you are. Nik lets you order, smirking still as you nervously pick something small, cheap, and he instead orders something large and warm for you. He watches you scarf down the entirety of your meal, gazing at him suspiciously all the while. He’s quiet- appraising you later realized.

You know of men like him. Gangsters, thugs, men who work alongside the mafia or even worse. Men from the underbelly of Russian society who walk in plainclothes and hold dark secrets. You know the danger of accepting favors from men like him. Be it your body, your servitude, or a debt paid in blood, men like those you feared would come to collect in due course, would bleed you dry and leave you ruined given the chance. The only charity they offered served their own interests, the cause they flew their flag for.

It became clear as time grew that Nikolai was not much different, that he had taken one look at you and had seen the thing you never saw in yourself:

Potential.

In the end he tells you if you ever need work to come find him, and find him you do.

You’d been foolish, you think back, if only because you’d been so young, naive without the lessons he would soon teach you.

It’s simple things at first. Taking packages and dropping them off at seemingly random locations, picking up things from shady characters who’d let their eyes rake down your form. In exchange Nikolai offers you a warm place to sleep, a roof over your head, hot meals and shelter from the ghosts that chase you. Distant, professional, but there all the same. Steadfast, waiting for your skittishness to shed itself before he comes closer. Waiting. Expectant.

Curious, you’d watch as he tinkers on his helicopter, cleans his cache of weapons, fixes the aging appliances in his house outside Saratov where the remains of the Soviet legacy lay etched between the old manors of the дворянство.

You observe, quiet at a distance, and ask him about the life he led, to which he was vague.

“I fix things.” He tells you simply, snapping a cartridge back into place with practiced efficiency.

You wondered then, if he was trying to fix you too.

He welcomes your interests in his work, skittish though you are, ready to dart back to a safe distance at a moment’s notice. You peer over his shoulder as he works at his tool bench in the hangar, assist him as he tightens screws on his helicopter, pass him ingredients as he cooks dinner for you both on his stove. Rather than answer any questions you pose, Nik elects to show you himself, putting his hands over yours and allowing them to guide you with ease in his tasks.

His protege, he introduces you as to those that ask. The younger woman he had taken under his tutelage. You’d almost resented it at the time, still suspicious, ready to flee at the first instance of betrayal. Yet inside you knew it was too late. In the same way that wolves became dogs, you found yourself near the fire of him, resting your weary bones as he offered you a place to stay.

Even if he held a leash behind his back.

Nik is careful, stern as a teacher but tender as a friend. In moments of learning his voice is whip-sharp to correct any mistakes, but in the quiet evenings he is almost soft, blunted at the edges in a way that betrays his indulgence in you. Each time he gets close, you try to ignore the way his touch lingers, holding back, greedy but restrained as your heart flutters inside your chest. Purposeful, careful not to spook you lest it ruin the things he’s predestined for you.

You try not to miss him when he leaves you behind for work, reminding yourself this is only temporary, to not let your guard down lest he burn you. He will someday stop having a use for you, and you will once again walk into the wild seeking shelter under a different name.

When he returns, you try to ignore the relief that bubbles inside your chest, the desperate hunger of a lonely thing looking for warmth.

You don’t see the glittering silver collar he envisions in his mind.

The teaching moments are constant. It’s not long before Nikolai begins taking you on assignments rather than leaving you at the house alone. You become familiar with the inside of the chopper, and learn to doze in the co-pilot seat when you are allowed. You help him catalog his ammo and supplies, listen over your headset as he explains piloting to you. In meetings with suppliers and clients he tells you quietly to stay inside the chopper behind him, and you peek out to see the eyes of his ‘friends’ flicking towards you. Curious, even as Nik stood as a stalwart wall between you and them.

In the passenger seat of his truck you learn to carefully balance his chosen rifle on your lap, feeling the stiffness ease from your shoulders as he lays a heavy hand across your nape. On long drives he stops at sunset to admire the view, and you hover close to his side as he smokes long drags of cigars. When he encourages you to try you cough on the smoke, and he thumps you between your back gently, chuckling even when you shoot him a glare. The next morning finds you somewhere new, and the lessons resume.

All the while his careful guidance reminds you to keep your eyes up, to stay alert, focused, to heed his warnings and obey his orders when given.

Nik is an endless wealth of knowledge when it comes to his profession. He’s deliberate in the things he teaches you: how to calculate the distance of a target 100 meters away, what the warning lights on the helicopter console meant, how to handle the kickback of a machine gun, where the major organs of the body were located and how to slice them open in deadly fashion. You take to the lessons easily as predators take to the snap of bone between jaws, and can’t help but preen with every accomplishment, every feat you manage to show him.

“Good girl.” He offers when you finish the task assigned to you, noticing the way you stiffen, a shiver racing down your spine at the praise. Testing the waters, quietly moving goalposts in his mind as he maps your future before you.

When you fell ill during that first winter he nurses you, sits your sluggish form up in bed against his chest and watches as you finish what little food you could stomach. When you insist on drinking with him one evening, pass beyond your tolerance, he smooths a hand over your back as you bend over the toilet bowl and whispers soothing reassurances in your ear. When you cut your palm on the edge of a tool bench in his helicopter hangar he lets you squeeze his hand as he pours alcohol over the gash, reminding you the wound would make you stronger. When you take a swig of the vodka to settle your nerves after your first mission with him he hums happily, murmuring an ounce of praise that settles low in your veins like warm liquor.

You let him, suspicious though you are, so desperate for a place to belong, to be taken care of, to have somewhere in which to shelter the storm. Nikolai is your mentor, yes, but more than that Nik shapes himself into your ally, into someone you can turn to, to a man you look to and seek praise from like turning your face to the sun.

Teaching you to eat from the palm of his hand.

You trail behind him at a distance, eyes softening and heart weary, seeking a soft place in which to rest itself. Nikolai is not a soft man, you remind yourself. Tender as he can be, his true heart remains a shadowed thing like all the men and women he keeps close. Even so you cling fast to that same shadow, hovering at his side as he makes a place for you there.

He’d plucked you from the wilds, had taken you like a starved, injured, feral animal into his care. You’d growled and snapped at him, unsure, suspicious of the twinkle behind his eyes that betrayed intentions you couldn’t quite discern. It was as if he knew the things you were capable of before even you could see them, the way he shaped you slowly under his care.

You stay there when he introduces you to his allies, to Price who looks at your skittish, suspicious nature and to Nik with a disapproving but knowing stare. You hear the meaning to it later as you creep downstairs to listen to them smoke outside.

“I won’t say anything.” Price tells him gruffly. “God knows I have my own vices. Just don’t ruin her, Nik.”

Nikolai takes a long, purposeful pause as he considers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, captain.”

Price chuffs, but comments no further.

Slowly, Nik begins to move closer to you, getting you used to his touch. It seems incidental at first. Squeezing too close behind you in the kitchen and offering a chuckling apology as you feel his hips press against your spine; leaning over you to inspect your work, rubbing a hand between your shoulders after a hard day and relishing the tiniest little sigh you offer in return.

In his teachings he is deliberate, gauging your progress under a keen eye, offering life lessons just as he purrs little doses of praise at your progress. He knows you wouldn’t leave now, you’ve become too accustomed to a life under his care. So slowly, Nik begins to test the boundaries of your trust in him, pushing a little farther each time and leaving you dizzy in the wake of him.

In the hot days of summer he works with his shirt off, the broad span of his back glistening with sweat. You tell yourself it is just the warmth of the sun that lays upon your cheeks, but even then you find your eyes straying, catching his own knowing gaze at a distance. Teasing, waiting, expectant.

“Smells good.” He hums over your shoulder as you made breakfast one morning, bacon simmering in the pan. “You’d make a good wife.”

When you feel heat rise to your face, stammering and scandalized, Nik only laughs.

“Шучу.” He grins. “Just kidding.”

It doesn’t seem to be that much of a joke, not with the way Nik is so comfortable around you these days, easing into your personal space just enough to make your heart race, dangerous thoughts of the ‘what if?’ lingering even after he’s pulled away.

On longer jobs he puts a cot in the back of the chopper to sleep on. Normally he likes to sleep in the pilot seat- vigilant and ready to take off at the slightest hint of trouble. Yet sometimes he complains about his aging back and squeezes in behind you, tucking you against the wall and arranging you so you both share what little space there is. You can’t really find it in yourself to complain, taking in the warm, musky scent of his and letting it lull you into dreams.

Slowly, you come to him. You ease into his touch, to the way his hand rubs across your shoulders in greeting, the way he holds your hand as you stiffened during client negotiations. In the evenings he sometimes watches terrible knock-off action movies, rolls his eyes at the impossible stunts as you nod off on his shoulder. Comfortable, you curl into him- seeking the place you belonged, and Nik quietly smiles at the wild creature that has made a home in his heart.

On the odd stretches of time where there are few assignments to follow through from his strange clientele, Nik takes you on his version of a holiday. He brings you to places you’ve never been, restaurants in cities you didn’t know existed.

“Try this.” He tells you in that smirk of his, lifting an oyster from the Caspian Sea to your lips, loaded with butter and spices. You make a face as you swallow, lips closing around his fingers, and don’t notice the way Nik’s eyes flick to the bob of your throat, distracted. “Good girl.”

The praise sends a shiver up your spine, alighting inside you with the need to please him- this man who has taken you in, sheltered you, is teaching you everything he knows.

You don’t realize the danger you’re in when you realize you’ve gotten too comfortable.

It’s a sunny Wednesday morning when you’re taken.

Being the pretty, feral thing at Nik’s side comes with a fair bit of attention. People begin to notice the beautiful vixen at his side. Whispers of your skills echo in the halls of underground bunkers and private airliners. Nik is known to work alone, so to see you with him as his protege, his partner, his co-pilot that he trusts as much as he mentors, means that you’re a target.

You pop out for groceries on his old Soviet era moped, having pestered Nikolai for pirozhkis for dinner- to which he told you only if you fetched the ingredients yourself. You ignore the small gaggle of men smoking near the corner store, common as they were in your neighborhood. It’s only when you come out with your arms full that they spring on you.

Your head cracks against a stone wall. The world goes dark.

When you come to, you’re somewhere you don’t recognize. barely lucid, head pounding, they try and ask you questions about him you can’t answer. There’s things Nik keeps secret from you for your own safety, and the things they want to know are among them. The blows come, knock you from your chair, and you’re left alone in the cellar, trying to understand how the nightmare you dreaded before you met him could have come true after all.

The difference is- now they’ve made a mistake. They took you after he’d taught you how to survive.

The men who took you are stupid. They underestimate you, tying the ropes too loose for your frame. You manage to get your hands free first as Nik has taught you, then your feet. In the corner of the cellar a sliver of light peeks through broken slats, and despite your battered limbs and bruised hands, you peel the plank off quietly so it reveals the underbelly of the house. Like digging a den, you crawl your way into the earth, beyond the foundation, and stumble into the night before your captors even decide to check on you.

Escaping the snare, as wild things do.

It’s early in the morning when you manage to stumble to the back gate of the house. You trip over a loose rock in the soil, collapse in a heap of bruised limbs and fatigue just beyond the back step. The door swings open, and you close your eyes before you can see the sight of Nikolai with a rifle in his hands, ready to fend off intruders.

“лисёнок.” He murmurs hoarsely as he gathers you in his arms, cooing his name for you as you whimper into his chest. Injured, broken, limping back to him. Only him. “What did they do to you?”

You don’t tell him, too exhausted to form words, slumping against him and letting the crash of adrenaline pull you blissfully under.

When you wake up, you’re in his bed. Bandaged, tucked in tightly. He’s washing blood off his hands in the sink.

You don’t realize until later it isn’t yours.

You never ask him what he did to those men while you were asleep, maiming them, killing them for the offense of hurting you, only to come home and haul your figure close to him with whispered reassurances that they’d never touch you again.

Things...change after that.

It wasn’t as if Nik wasn’t affectionate before- he was. Nik’s fondness of you was intertwined with his mentorship. Yet there was always a sort of distance involved. Teasing, playful, interested but careful not to push too far lest he spook you away too soon.

Now, as you cling to him in the aftermath of your capture, shiver and feel your bandaged fingers grip at his shirt, Nik is indulgent.

He lets you sniffle into his chest, rubs his hand along the knot of your spine and rumbles low, soothing words in Russian. He hauls you to him, calls you quiet pet names, cuddles you close and reminds you you’re safe.

In your recovery Nik spoils you, allows you to take all the time you need. You sleep until noon, a rare luxury under his tutelage, and find him cooking your favorite meals when you wake. When you call for him, he’s there, helping you ascend the stairs with your mending knee. He sets you on the couch in warm blankets so you watch movies of your choice until you doze off, to which he carries you upstairs and tucks you quietly, sweetly, back into bed.

All this and more, as Nikolai silently declares to himself that he is never letting you go.

When you recover, the gentleness doesn’t seem to stop. Yet with it comes a sternness, a demand to yield to his promise to care for you, to keep you safe. The hole of want inside you yawns open for him, looking to his care, his guidance, seeking ways to please him. You’re softer now, no less deadly, but the softness in the aftermath has you brushing against him, yearning for his embrace, which Nik offers readily.

With his nose buried in your hair, your arms wrapped around his waist, Nik smiles at the silver snare he’s circled around your throat.

and, silently, he begins to pull.

“Behave.” He tells you when you snarl at a supplier who tries to upcharge him, and Nik lays a heavy hand on your nap that somehow feels like a warning. It settles low in your stomach, warm and liquid with a want you don’t understand yet but need all the same.

“That’s my girl.” He hisses as you stitch a gash on his arm after close contact when you were flying out of a hot zone. He takes another swig of his vodka and groans just as a drip of red oozes down your fingers. You shudder at the sound, feeling something pull taut below your belly, trying to echo the praise quietly in your thoughts.

“Pretty thing.” He smiles as he offers you one of his spare shirts on mission. You swore you had packed more, but the scent of him clings to your skin and it distracts you enough to not question it. You warm under his words, curl up beside him when he gestures. Obedient, wanting.

You think he’s gone from the chopper that night, tucked on the cot and sneaking a hand under your panties to rub idly at yourself- thinking of him. You’re surrounded by the scent of him, swaddled by a phantom of his warmth, and imagining what it would feel like to have his fingers inside you, stroking, coaxing wetness to trickle down the breadth of them. What would it be like, you wonder, for him to hold you like that, to whisper those filthy praises in your ear so you clench down on him?

Footsteps, boots on the metal grate, and a low chuckle.

You yank your hand free, but it’s too late.

“Don’t stop on my account, Дорогая.” He murmurs, and you back against the wall with a shuddering little gasp, skin on fire as Nikolai couches over you, ready to eat you whole. “I was only gone for a few minutes- did you miss me that much?”

The utter confidence in his voice, the knowledge that you were thinking of him, has wetness ooze between your thighs as you try to find your voice. It’s no use, because Nik swoops down against your lips, humming in satisfaction as you ease against him with a little whine, slowly reaching for him until you drag him down onto the cot with you. Surrendering at last.

Hours later, his seed dripping between your thighs, you doze on his chest while he smokes. Exhausted, entirely worn out from the number of orgasms he’s wrung from you, lulled to sleep by his calming heartbeat under your ear.

It’s the first night of many. Like a dam collapsed, Nik releases the full tidal wave of his desire onto you, never missing a chance to haul you to him, to bend you over, to sit you on his cock as you groan and leak around the stretch of him inside you. You realize far too late just how much Nik has been holding back, his hunger for you as boundless as your desire to please him, to stay.

He has you there in the chopper on the cot that can barely hold the weight of his thrusts, back in his bedroom where you collapse face first into the pillows. He eats you out slow and luxurious with you balanced on the kitchen counter, has you brace on his tool bench as he drapes himself against your spine and ruts into you from behind.

“Taking me so well, little fox.” He purrs in your ear, nimble fingers working at your clit as you hiccup and mewl for it. “So tight. Made for my cock, hm? Твоё тело сводит меня с ума. Fuck.”

Nik is an unstoppable force, with stamina you struggle to match. He keeps you in his bed as long as he is able, staving off his orgasm if only to prolong yours, trying to draw as many as he can from you even when your hand smacks at the headboard, trying to tap out.

“Just one more.” He growls as he tries to fuck you through the mattress, glued to your back so the heat of his frame, the swell of his cock inside you is the only thing you can feel. You’re teary eyed, gasping, the lewd squeal as he thrusts into you filling the quiet of the bedroom. Your eyes roll back just as he nails that perfect bundle of serves inside you, voice caught on a choked sort of whimper. “Just one more and then we can take a break, darling.”

You sprawl against the sheets, exhausted as he lounges bare by the window, a whisp of smoke curling from his cigarette before returning to you once more, spooning you and slipping back inside the sloppy mess of your well-used cunt.

“Good girl.” He tells you again when you moan breathlessly, hand cupping your jaw and turning you to him so he can kiss the gasp from your parted lips. You clench down on him at the words, and he hisses a sound of pleasure against the corner of your mouth. “All mine. My girl.”

“Yours.” You whisper hoarsely, as if there were any other answer.

In the come-down he gathers you to him, kisses the tears of overwhelm from your eyes and holds you as you shiver in the aftermath of your orgasm, feeling worn to the bone in only the best of ways. Cum splatters the inside of your thighs, and Nik idly scoops it onto his fingers and back inside, purring endearments between presses of his lips to your face.

Comforting, gentle when you need it, but demanding, forcing you to surpass beyond what you think yourself capable of if only to see the glimmer of pride in his eyes. When you fail, deliverance is swift as it’s always been, but now it’s different.

“I told you no touching.” He growls, forcing you to look at him as his thumb circles roughly over your clit. He’d caught you masturbating in your room, thinking the house was empty, that he wouldn’t catch you. “You want to touch yourself, you come to me, sweet thing. I’ll take care of you, I always do, don’t I?”

“Yes, yes-” You pant, bucking your hips, desperate, aching without the fullness of him, but Nik pulls away. “Wait. P-please-”

“Need to learn your lesson, little fox.” He soothes, pressing a kiss into your hair even as you whine, trying to buck up and grind against him in a vain search for friction. “Make sure it sticks, Да?”

Yet even as you obey, keep your hands to yourself just as you promised, Nik delights in working you up and pulling away at the last minute. He corners you, slips his hand beneath your waistband and soaks his fingers in your leaking cunt until you moan and mewl for him, then withdraws if only to smirk and suck the taste from them. For days he teases you, edges you until a hiccup threatens in your throat, makes sure you’ve learned your lesson that you are his, and then pulls away to let the reminder sink in. You can’t stand it, go mad with need, find yourself close to humping his knee if only to get some sort of relief.

When he finally does let you come days later, you howl into his flesh, biting down into his skin until he shudders, groans against you and spills inside your clenching cunt.

“My sweet girl.” He murmurs, stroking your face as he cuddles you afterwards. “Я не могу без тебя жить.”

You smile, nuzzle into the warmth of him, knowing he has you, he always will. You can’t forget, not with the things he growls against you as he makes love to you, reminding you that you belong to him. Soft in his room, you lay with him, fold into him as a beacon of safety and trust, know that he will never hurt you, will keep you safe, that this will always be your home.

In front of others you’re his partner, his accomplice, the apprentice he found like a diamond in the rough and had polished into a perfect blade. Deadly, clever, keen-eyed and watchful of all threats. Nik tells Price you don’t play well with others when Price tries to introduce his own protege, and when Gaz offers his hand in greeting you make no motion to return it until Nik grazes a thumb against the side of your throat as if tugging an invisible collar there.

“Careful.” He warns the sergeant. “She bites.”

In private he calls you all his endearments in purring Russian. Ангел, Прелесть, Огонёк. Angel, precious, little fire, the object of his desire. You're his girl, his sweet, fierce little sweetheart, the thing he taught to eat out of the palm of his hand while keeping your wild, dangerous nature.

You're his only family, his beloved little fox he managed to domesticate, the thing that still will bite him given the chance, but likes to curl up in his lap and yawn like a housecat. You're his obsession, his partner, his apprentice. If anything else, you're his weakness.

“Я тебя никому не отдам.” He swears to you, voice a low, deep rumble as he strokes your face, feeling your sleeping breaths fan across his palm.

“I will never give you to someone else.”

You dream of the first day you met him. Feral, scared, hungry and starved and inside- looking so desperately for somewhere safe to call home.

Now, years later, you know. Generous though Nik was, it was this that he had hoped for in the beginning- with you as his partner, his protege, but at the end of the day sleeping in his bed, worn and exhausted from the effects of his desire. Dangerous, feral, useful, but in the end tamed just as he’d envisioned.

And you, younger than him by years and foolish as you were, had gone blindly into the snare.

Nik had never given you any reason to regret it.

Russian Translations (Native Russian speakers feel free to leave a comment of correction)

Дворянство - Russian nobility

Шучу - I’m joking

Лисёнок. - Little fox

Дорогая - Darling

Твоё тело сводит меня с ума - Your body drives me crazy

Да - Yes

Я не могу без тебя жить - I can’t live without you

#nikolai x reader #cod x reader #cod nikolai x reader #nikolai x you #call of duty modern warfare 3 #my writing #my fic #x reader

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dmitriene · 2 months

Text

THOUGHTS ABOUT GUNSLINGER SIMON MEETING YOU AS HE PASS BY.

cw: fluff, comfort, sugesstive, kind of established relationship, groping, teasing, playful banters, kissing, dirty talk, marking, lot of intimacy, boner, pet names, brief mentions of female and male anatomy, could be posessive behavior, hints on sex, simon is filthy. pairing: cowboy simon ghost riley x fem reader

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

thinking about gunslinger!simon — he meets you at the store, riding through town on a powerful black stallion to cross the road, and maybe buy a few things, if the sharp gaze of his dark bottomless eyes hadn't caught on your silhouette in a small grocery store, well, seems like he would definitely linger a little longer there, spent a night, even.

you've gone out to buy some small grocery shopping and maybe treat yourself to some pastries, but all your plans go down the drain when the wooden door of the store opens with a bell ringing above it and a cunning, smug bright red skull shaped mask walks in, carrying the identity of its owner, Ghost, whom you know as Simon.

— «ah, see who the horse has brought — eek!» you're in a hurry to notice sharply, but you don't have time to anticipate how quickly he'll cross the line from the door to you, letting you only feel the hurried touch of rough leather gloves over the curve of your waist, clad in the fabric of your dress, before he reaches out and squeezes your rounded ass, ripping out a high squeak out between your lips which he swallows hastily.

he turns you around to pin your back against the shelves of canned food and other goods, blocking the view of surprised eyes of another folks towards both of you, as he casually lifts his mask to his nose to slot his dry, tobacco scented lips to yours, licking inside your warm mouth with fervor of hungry mutt, intertwining his warm tongue with yours for just a fleeting moment before letting go of you.

simon pulls away from your lips just slightly, letting your breath blend together and his teeth pass against your lower lip in a playful bite, as you curl your dainty hand against his dark vest, shooting him a glare as your another hand grip a shopping basket stronger, your tongue slips between puffy lips to lick them, while your gaze focus on simon's sly squint of eyes and his wide grin that he hides behind his mask, and you spat stricktly — “and what this was about? that's how you say hello now?„

simon is amused by your play of the strict, spoiled girl, cause he sees how your eyes flutter shyly during a kiss before closing, and how you sigh into his mouth very quietly, only for him to hear, so he allows you to behave in this way, and in return he demands nothing more than a submission, even when he hoists you by the waist and carries to the exit, forcing you to hurriedly put the basket on the wooden shelf of the store and grab his biceps, pulling, demanding to designate his actions with at least a word, and he chuckles hoarsely — “jus' taking what's mine, can'' i, dovie?„

that makes you huff, «taking what's his» he says, in the meantime preventing you from shopping and doing whatever he pleases to you in public, you have long since lost all shame in his company, so that the words and looks of the townspeople do not mean much to you, but you allow yourself to let him know how displeased you are with his actions, frowning and pouting your lips, adding meekly — “and don't let me shop properly so i'll have what to eat, huh? very kind of you, Sir Ghost„

he visibly rolls his eyes, resembling boiled caramel in the sunset light, before glancing at your frowning brows and the way you pout your swollen from his kiss lips, before his leather covered gloved fingers wrap around your chin and turn your face a little more in his direction, so that simon can press the fabric of his mask into your ear.

— “we can pretty stay here, darling, if you won' me to bend you agains' shop's woll and fuck you for everyone to see?„

of course, the question is nothing more than rhetorical, because you won't agree to this, but it's worth it to see how your eyes widen and round like beads, and your skin definitely flushes, you can't utter a word, your lips parting silly like one of a fish, while simon takes advantage of this moment to put you on his horse before untie it from the rope, and climb in after you, sitting comfortably behind your back.

a position that allows him to grab your hips to pull you closer to him, making the softness of your ass brush against tenting hardness in his trousers, which pokes in the swell of your ass that is definitely not his revolver.

pleased, simon grabs the reins and tugs them, lightly tapping the sides of his black stallion with his feet, as his chin suddenly touches the curve of your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine.

— “i think i need to leave another one in more visible place, wha' do you think, dove?„ drawls his smoky voice, when he pulls the sleeve of your dress slightly with his chin, looking at the devil's mark, his bite, on your shoulders skin for anyone to see, if it weren't for the clothes behind which it can be hidden, not that he likes it, simon himself would have liked if you had worn it openly.

— “s — shush it„ you mutter, looking at him out of the corner of your vision with a little seriousness, adjusting the sleeve of your dress with slightly trembling fingers before continuing to stare ahead, while his broad muscular chest behind you quiver in a hoarse laugh, as he quietly, meant just for you, adds — “course, darling, i'll save this for later, yeah? sure you would be more talkative in bed, hun„

and he may be right, but it will be for his ears only.

— “when i would be balls deep in this little cunt of yours, birdy„

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charliemwrites · 5 months

Note

i cannot describe what keeper ghost is doing to me, i'm ready to sell all my belongings and leave my soft life to live in a crate for him

please charlie, tell me what happens when reader asks to go down on Simon but ONLY A LITTLE BIT and ONLY TO SEE IF SHE LIKES IT

Honestly same, I just wanna stop doing taxes and waking up before dawn 😭

But going down on Simon, you sayyyyyy?

You’ve been letting (demanding) Simon take care of you with his hands and mouth for weeks now. It’s your favorite pre-bedtime ritual in fact. You sleep like a rock after an orgasm or three and Simon always seems so enthusiastic to provide. (He is.)

That said, you haven’t reciprocated. Not on purpose, anyway. Sometimes while getting off on his thigh, yours will rub against his cock through his sweats. (A few times now, feeling it twitching and rock hard has been the thing to tip you over.) But mostly, intimate encounters have been one-sided and you-focused.

You’re not totally oblivious, you know he’s turned on by getting you off (which… took some time to wrap your head around but wasn’t entirely shocking either.) But again, he never pushes, suggests, asks, or even hints at wanting you to do anything. At most he’ll adjust himself and…. That’s it.

But now you want more. Simon is a private man - at least that’s the sense you get watching him interact with Johnny a couple times. It’s different with you though; he grants you liberties that you’re pretty sure would get anyone else very Murdered.

So, as is usual in your never-ending quest to stretch him to the limit, you pin him down on the couch one night, hands on his chest again. You’re sitting on him, the length of his powerful body stretched out over the cushions.

“What do you need, pretty? You want my mouth? My hands?” He asks.

You shake your head and wiggle down to perch on his thighs, palms in the hard planes of his stomach now.

“I wanna taste you,” you announce. “But don’t move. I might not like it.”

“‘Course,” he soothes, putting his hands up in mock surrender. “Go ahead and explore. All yours, little one.”

You tug at his belt and zipper, nearly rip the button off his jeans. You make an annoyed noise when you struggle to get them off.

“Easy, easy,” he coos. “Let me help.”

You hmph as he sits up a bit, tilting his hips to slide them down his ass, leaving black boxers behind. He’s already tenting the fabric, a single tiny dark spot just under the elastic waistband. You bat his hands away, mumbling that you’ve got it now so move, tapping your fingers along the outline of it. It twitches beneath your touch, hot and hard.

You dip a hand in, knowing and not caring that your hands are cold. If it bothers him, Simon doesn’t show any sign. Not that you’re looking, either, it’s your playtime after all.

For a minute you just explore the shape and size it through fabric, admiring the shadow where the flared head disrupts the polyester. Then you tug the band down, eyes going moony when his cock springs up, already flushed and wet at the tip.

“Ooh it’s so big,” you murmur, talking to yourself. That Simon is there and might hear is just coincidence. “How the hell does that fit anywhere?”

You trace a fingertip along a prominent vein on the underside, following the curve. When you reach the head, a bean of precum wells up. And you have to taste it.

Simon lets out a little puff of air when you swipe your tongue over the head. Then another when dip the tip into his slit, wanting more.

“Tastes good,” you muse, pleasantly surprised.

He doesn’t respond, knows you’re not talking to him. You press your lips just under the head and hum, giggling when you feel it vibrate throughout his shaft. It feels… good. Fun. You’ve never gotten to just have your way with someone’s cock before, and never been close like this with Simon. Usually there are still plenty of layers of clothes between you too. The novelty is intoxicating.

You lick along the shaft, up and down. Little, tiny flicks of your tongue that are probably maddening. Occasionally, you tilt your head to apply gentle suction along the side, like how it flexes against your cheek.

Eventually, you make it back up to the head and rap your lips around it. Just that much feels like a lots, feels like you’re playing a dangerous game with your jaw. You won’t be taking much more than this. He’s thick.

And all the while, Simon’s little grunts and sighs and gasps are so much background noise, just like the show running forgotten on the TV. He doesn’t thrust into your mouth, or twitch, or reach for you. He never does. He just lets you have your fun in silence.

You lose track of time lavishing just the head of his cock with attention before pulling away, feeling almost sleepy from the meditative headspace you’ve fallen into.

“Mm that was fun,” you conclude. “I want to do it again sometime.”

You wander off to bed, the taste of his precum like honey lingering on your tongue.

#my writing #cod #asks #fanfiction #reader fic #thoughts™️#kept pet ghost #keeper ghost #dark fic #love you lumi

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bluerosefox · 1 year

Text

The (Not) Normal One...

I LOVE the stories where Danny is deaged and later found by one of the bats and taken in as a son or he's Bruce's bio son and is either Damian's twin or half brother or little/big brother BUT I don't see a lot of reborn/reincarnated Danny into the batfamily (I can think of two but one of them he is Dick's son?clone?somewhat clone? And the other is an amazing story where Danny is reborn as Jazz and Jason's kid and I love it to bits)

So let's change that a bit and have some fun.

Here's the idea

Danny, either from finally aging to his death (it was slow and long aging but he is still partly human too don't forget that) or dying at the hands of GIW (or by his parents if we go the Bad!Fentons route), is reborn into the batfamily.

He could either be Bruce and Selina's kid after they finally tie the knot, or be a one more attempt by Ra's or Talia to get the heir they want but is immediately found out when Tim notices certain labs active and they find baby Danny. OR Danny can be an oops baby to Bruce's one night stands OR one of the batboys baby. EITHER WAY, Danny is reborn into the family from the start.

And he has his memories. (He has little hints of his powers btw, they dont fully come in until his 14th bday)

And his new family all swear to give him a proper and happy childhood (as best as they can seeing how it's Gotham)

Only I want Danny milking being a baby then toddler/kid and later a teen for all its worth. He's going to enjoy this new life with everything he gots.

Like imagine the chaos and shenanigans he gets into as a toddler. He's the king of hide-and-seek. He uses his tears to get away from whoever annoys him. He's mastered the puppy dog look to get away with things (it holds no effect on Alfred though, man is immune to all tricks).

But then of course there's the... odd things that happen around him. Sometimes they catch him talking to no one. Sometimes they spot a ball or a toy rolling to Danny despite him not touching it. Sometimes they think they see or hear someone in the room with Danny only to go busting in to find nothing. (One time someone busted his nursery door down they heard on his baby/toddler monitor the distorted voice of a woman singing him a lullaby (it was Martha who was soothing him to sleep after a tiny nightmare, boy was Bruce not ready for one of his kids to hum the tune in the morning)).

Danny asking for an extra drink and the newspaper after Bruce is done before he runs off to one of the many sitting rooms the manor has. There he leaves the drink and the newspaper near a chair, hops into another chair nearby and chats to someone (they all think its his imaginary friend but that honestly doesn't explain why the drink seems to slowly disappear without anyone touching it. (btw its Thomas, Danny is talking to they like chatting in the morning)

OR when Danny gives hints to cases his family is working on, how he knows? No one knows. Sometimes they chalk it up to a kid randomly saying stuff or seeing it from a different simple outlook but sometimes it seems a little too on the nose and they think Danny might know about their night jobs... (He does know, but he gets some info from Lady Gotham who visits him and gives him little hints to pass onto her fav Knights)

Basically what I want is a reborn Danny trying to get a decent childhood/teenage years before his powers kick in full swing, his family trying the same but they got no idea about the powers (maybe), and ghosts like to visit Danny. The shenanigans that follow will be amazing.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #blue rambles #batman #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dp x dc crossover #Lady Gotham is a regular visitor to the manor since day 1 #Danny respects the heck out of her and drops everything to chat with her when she comes over #it confuses the others when suddenly he stops playing with them and goes to sit in random places and speak to the air #he has to be sneaky about the talks once he's older cause he really doesn't wanna be seen as crazy though #Martha and Thomas still 'live' at the manor but aren't strong enough to really show themselves #that starts changing with Danny around #his natural halfa state and powers kinda fill the space/manor with more ectoplasim #One time Danny got lost or kidnapped but escapes with Lady Gotham's help who shields him the entire time he's on the run #again Danny does have powers but they are no where near powerful yet #at most he can disappear from sight for a bit #phase into walls if he really tries #and floats in the air for a bit #if he's in danger there is a chance he can tap into the stronger stuff however #He may had frozen Joker into place when the clown went after him and triggered his fear when he was a toddler #the batfamily really want to let Danny have a childhood and are willingly ignoring some of the weird stuff #but sometimes things get a little too weird #they think he might be a budding meta though #is this silly? yes #do I want this to be a thing? Heck yeah #reborn danny

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shuttershocky · 3 months

Text

That previous TM post reminded me of something.

What really tells me the Koei Tecmo writers did their homework with Type-Moon is how Fate/Samurai Remnant slightly changes the TM theme of decay to portray that Iori has something wrong with him.

A common trope that Nasu likes to weave into his stories is how the people living today are living in the past's skeletons. Unlike a lot of media that tends to portray the past as some grandiose and magical time that met an untimely end from disaster, the past wasn't always great, it was just... Large.

A theme of slow decay permeates a lot of Nasu's works. Once, the Nanaya, the Ryougi, the Asakami, and the Fujou were fearsome, powerful clans of oni hunters, but over time they all fell to ruin slowly, with only the Nanaya really having a singular incident that can be pointed to for their fall. The Tohno were (and still are) an incredibly wealthy and influential family of oni in the guise of businessmen, but one cruel act out of line after another, and there's just an enormous, empty mansion containing a single Tohno, the family dead or scattered. Mahoyo's longest chapter takes place in a lavish, abandoned amusement park, filled with everything from a multistory house of mirrors to a giant rollercoaster where everything still works, but couldn't survive more than a few years, a foolish waste of a fortune. Kara No Kyoukai is about a rich girl that grows increasingly distant from her wealthy noble family until she leaves them to live in a completely empty apartment instead, the flashbacks to the Ryougi family showing no warmth or nostalgia despite the luxury.

Even Fate, the series all about digging up ghosts of the past and showing you how kickass these guys are, always goes into how heroic spirits are often filled with regret, having led bloody and tragic lives that caused them so much pain and yet meant that they would be remembered forever—literally removing them from the cycle of death and reincarnation to be put into another one where they are reborn and killed on a mage's whims.

The past was grand, wealthy, larger than life, and it rotted from the inside out and failed the people living today, who have to build new, simpler lives from the pieces, but might be happier that way.

FSR does something similar, though with an important difference. Just like in other TM works the past in FSR is larger than life, being the Sengoku period and the Shimabara rebellion, with both the incredibly cool sword saints and horrific massacres, but the people living today (1651) could not be happier about living in a peaceful, much more insignificant time and have no interest in what they left behind whatsoever. They're not living in the decaying remains of the past, they've rebuilt on top of it completely. You would have to be insane to look back even out of curiosity, because that would be staring into unimaginable bloodshed.

Nowhere is this better illustrated than Nasu himself talking about how the name "Miyamoto Musashi" is seen today, compared to in 1651 after Musashi had just died.

A sword-saint now, a legend, and at 60 duels with 60 wins probably the most skilled duelist to have ever lived, but for his contemporaries, he was a terrifying man that killed dozens to prove his martial skill. Nobody in Miyamoto Iori's time remembers him for being Musashi's son the way we do.

But Iori, Iori looks back. The first hint was that servants always have some connection to the master, and there's seemingly nothing in common with the king and god-slayer Saber and the humble Iori. The next was Saber's reaction seeing Iori's seemingly fearless behavior towards an enemy that could kill him in one blow (something you don't even need New Game+ to see btw, I haven't played NG+ myself lol), it was recognition.

There's a reason why Iori's main rival is Chiemon, a character whose only defining trait is being unable to let go of the bloodshed he experienced in the Shimabara Rebellion.

In FSR more than in any other Type-Moon title, the past is buried deep to the point where it can barely be seen, and yet inside Iori is the desire to dig it up. Study it. Surpass it. Find his father resurrected in his prime and kill him (her) again, to prove he would have been an even more terrifying monster than she ever was, had he been born just a little earlier.

There's something wrong with him.

#Fate Samurai Remnant #FSR spoilers

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mitch-the-silly · 2 months

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hey!!!!

I’d like to request vox (I sense you like him a normal amount) x gn!reader headcanons where the reader is an overlord and is in charge of theatrical productions such as musicals, in which vox sees as ‘out of date’ and therefore detests the reader, but the reader is oblivious to this and is always seen trying to befriend him? I could see this as some good slow burn :)))

thanks a ton! 🎀

I DEFINATELY like him a normal amount :)

Anywho- Have to write for this guy more often and the second I saw this request, I knew I was gonna have so much fun writing this! Vox slow burn is literally my kingdom come-

ENOUGH SAID-

Vox x gn!thespianOverlord!reader

Cheery and old-timey, that’s how Vox viewed you.

Truly, he only interacted with you because the musicals you produced for his films sold very well. But the world was begging and in need of more realistic movies and shows. Musicals just weren’t as interesting to him. So he always saw you as a luddite. Maybe not to the extent he saw Alastor that way. But your mannerisms and theatrics reminded him so much of his rival, so despite you having done nothing but benefitting favors for him, he kinda hated you on the lowkey. But who didn’t he hate at this point?

He at first found you extremely obnoxious. The way that, at times, people flocked to your theater productions instead of his movie premieres…

Despite this, despite hating you so, you were always so kind to him. It baffled him truly, that you never caught the hint.

The amount of time he’d rejected your invitation for coffee at your opera house should have already given the hint but you always figured he was busy (he was one of the most powerful overlords after all).

Every time a meeting was held, you spoke to him before and after the meeting. Always in such a friendly manner that made Vox smile awkwardly at you. He couldn’t outright tell you to stop talking to him, that would give off the wrong impression about him. So he would try his best to socialize with you without making you think you two were friends.

At times, you’d send him friendly gifts after collaborations.

You’ve given him blue roses after writing a particularly famous movie musical that earned both you and him a huge amount of money.

(He’d never admit it, but they made him feel special. He put them in a vase and kept them alive as long as possible.)

You definitely text him as if you two were friends. Which he always responds to very dryly, but you figure (again) that he’s probably too busy to put much thought to the text. Either way, you’re happy to hear back from him.

He does ghost you on occasions, which you don’t take personally (much to his dismay).

You find yourself always speaking fondly of him and his image. Admiring him to some degree. The way he acts in front of everyone, you ought to ask him to try acting for a production! His skills impress you a lot. And you’ve told him before. Which, for a moment (and only for a moment), made Vox think you weren’t that bad.

Oh, what he hated the most… it had to be seeing your play advertisements plastered all over the city.

Hell, you would also go up to him and ask him if he could advertise your shows.

You’d pay, so he couldn’t say no…

But the medium you expressed yourself with, oh how much he detested it!

Sometimes, out of courtesy (despite how much he detested you), he’d always accept the invitation to come to your Opera productions. Velvette liked to see the outfits the actors wore (and criticize them), and she always ended up dragging him along anyway. So he always ended up going when invited.

This particular time, you were putting on a production of Phantom of the Opera. The actress who was supposed to play Christine/The Phantom got severely ill, and the understudy was killed in the recent extermination. So it was up to you to take matters into your own hands and save your production.

The second he saw you in that scene, his eyes shot open wide. He’d never seen you act before. Hell, you looked so good on that stage, that even Velvette’s heavy criticisms of the play’s costume wardrobe didn’t move him.

And your voice! God… He’d wish someone that pretty/handsome would sing to him like that. Maybe it was the character you played and how they depicted them.

Matter of fact, he was paying attention to the plot this time. Unlike the other occasions.

The fact that you were willing to jump in and play the part perfectly as if you’d been rehearsing it every day surprised him. You’d be perfect in one of his movies, he just KNEW IT!

After the production, you approached him. Speaking to him and thanking him for coming to see as you always did.

The way he smiled at you was no longer full of false politeness. He now spoke much more freely with you. And it made you feel like you were finally important enough for him to have time for you! It was such a great feeling!

He didn’t want to admit how his perception of you had changed but let’s just say he began to plan more musicals.

Velvette knew what was going on the second he stayed to talk to you a bit longer than usual. She made fun of him for DAYS.

He would begin to respond to your DMs with less dryness.

And he would accept your offers to drink coffee at the opera house (he’d deny them sometimes to not raise any suspicion on your side or from his fellow Vees).

He would publicly deny any ties with you and would try his best to balance it out by telling Valentino just how “annoying” you were.

Vox being the obsessive little man-child he is, would survey you. Or rather, jump in excitement the second you appear in the sight of one of his cameras.

He’d set up a camera in your opera house just to see you directing rehearsals and even to see you practice.

He refuses to admit his feelings, but his fellow Vees are finding it hard to pretend they don’t know. Vox is… very obvious…

He begins sending you roses (yellow so he doesn’t make anyone think that he’s THAT obsessed with you).

He might start spiraling a bit when he sees any man approach you. But oh no, he had to keep himself together. You two were nothing, he didn’t like you! He only stayed close to you for convenience! …right?

Until he received another bouquet of blue roses signed off as “-Your Thespian Angel of Music”.

Oh, he went nuts! He had to find the footage of you signing it off. And just as he suspected, you were bashfully smiling as you wrote the note.

He couldn’t! He simply couldn’t let this change his mind! But he didn’t have much time to think about the move you’d made, because you’d invited him for coffee soon after.

Oh, he couldn’t keep himself together that time. Your smile, the warmth of your fireplace… it was all too much for him.

So it slipped out his mouth, he invited you to come over to his place and watch a movie.

You gladly accepted and after agreeing to a date for this to happen, you two were set!

Of course, he planned for you two to watch a musical together.

When you arrived at the V-tower, he was anxious to make sure that you were greeted properly. So he himself walked you to his area.

Sideye from Velvette because she just knew that Vox inviting you was him admitting to them that he was definitely into you.

During the movie, he admits that he thinks you’re pretty cool and you take it as a huge compliment!

When you go home after the little date-not-date, he can’t get you off his mind! The way your eyes shone in the TV’s light, the way you paid careful attention to every scene. Oh, he was so stupidly in love with you.

So what did he do next? He spent his free minutes texting you. Sending you Envees (the hell version of TikTok) he thought you’d like and you sent him some back.

He’d start advertising your stuff for free now!

If it wasn’t already obvious to the Vees, now they knew he was head over heels for you.

Eventually, he got Velvette into thinking you weren’t that bad… Maybe she could put some more style into your shows.

After a few months of you talking to Vox and Velvette casually texting you, she was fed up with Vox’s obsessive giggling when he saw you in the cameras, so she told you.

Yup. Velvette told you he liked you.

You were elated, to say the least. To be seen in a favorable light by such a powerful overlord was one thing. But to be the object of his adoration… Oh, you were more than happy.

So you set up another coffee date with Vox at your opera house.

To his surprise, you kissed him at the doorstep of your opera house.

It almost fried his circuit. The lights in your building flashed a bit and you could have sworn he was glitching in the middle of that kiss.

After which, your relationship was VERY MUCH PUBLIC.

Vox posted about your musicals almost every day.

He’s definitely the type to go to your practices and post you with a caption like “My Angel of Music”, “My Romeo/Juliet”, or “My Christine Canigula/Jeremy Here”. Something in reference to the lead or most adored role of the production you’re currently directing.

He’s corny as fuck in private-

He’d definately cuddle to watch whatever new musical you two just co-produced.

He funds your shows and is kind of embarrassed to admit it, but he’d blow marvelous amounts of money on you if he could (he has to be smart about how he spends his money and the fact that he can’t just spoil you as much as he wants, destroys him).

He also hates to be caught accidentally humming along to your musicals. He claims to not care about those things at all (he knows the entirety of your repertoire by heart).

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #vox hazbin #hazbin hotel vox #vox x reader #vox #vox x reader headcanons #vox headcanons

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flamingpudding · 10 months

Text

Part 9 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

>>Masterpost

<<1 Previous Next

Pit Demons aren't pets, now stop biting!

Jason sighed as he pulled into the bat cave with his bike. This was the third day in a row now that he was coming back into the Manor now and most likely stayed over again. Steph and Cass were due back from her mission today and Jason knew Alfred was preparing for the Family dinner that was going to happen either today or tomorrow.

Depending if Dick could finally gets Bruce out of his office.

It didn't really matter to Jason though. He was just here to… well he didn't know either but he knew that he was trying to keep an eye out for the little biter. Even if he had to deal with Timber being frustratingly annoying with the whole ghost cult thing.

So what if he could read what they claim to be squiggles. Not that he could prove otherwise, because all he saw was perfectly readable letters. Thankfully he had gotten Tim off his back for some time as he went to deal with something in Crime Alley.

He checked the group chat and scowled.

Apparently the entire Manor was in a state of chaos and Demon Brat was dragging Duke around the entire manor to have him use ghost vision to find the little shit. Not that it was helping since the last update was from 15 minutes ago and apparently the light path Duke had followed ran into a wall.

He looked over to the Batcomputer to find Tim going through the security footage. The other hadn't even so much spared Jason a glance so far too focused on trying to find how the kid could have disappeared from Damian's room without any of them noticing. Alfred and Demon Brat had put down the kid for a nap in Damian's room despite having a room prepared for the little biter and when Damian checked on the kid after doing his school work he found the kid gone.

"Still nothing on the kid?"

"Nothing, it's like the kid vanished into thin air. Not even the sensors in Damian's room picked anything strange up that could hint at his disappearance."

"I still have bite marks, so he definitely was not a mass hallucination."

Tim glared at Jason and the elder only shrugged. It was probably a bit to soon for that kind of joke. But his brothers weren't the only ones worried.

He wasn't even sure if Bruce knew, considering the last he heard was Dick and the old man having a 'talk' again. Dick was probably leaving the search to them for the moment to deal with whatever problem B was having right now.

"Think someone kidnapped the kid?"

"No. Aside from us, and probably the LoA, no one should know about Danny. The League taking him back wouldn't make sense. Besides why would anyone attempt to kidnap him from the Wayne Manor of all places? Gotham's Kidnappers might be dumb but not that dumb."

Jason sagely nodded in agreement. There was something tugging at the back of his mind but he couldn't explain what. It was like on the first day he had brought the little biter to the batcave. Over his shoulder he glanced into the direction his mind -no, the pit was urging him to go.

The pit had been strangely quiet and subdued ever since he met the kid. Protective of the biter at times but he despite the way Timber had annoyed and pestered him previously, he had not felt his own annoyance swing over into that uncontrollable rage.

There was a suspicion, a working theory. Something he wasn't yet willing to share with the rest of the family, despite the fact that he was sure that they had also noticed. It was a glaring fact that he was staying with them in the Manor despite Bruce being there too.

But until there was more confirmation Jason wasn't going to mention any of his suspicions, not if they could possibly endanger a little kid.

Because if he was right then the little biter was brought back way different than him and could also have some Pit controlling powers. The way his own mental Pit reacted to the boy was most likely proof but also what the other had found out so far. Lazarus water was fucking affecting the kids DNA.

It didn't help that Replacement had mentioned a suspicion that the League had most likely experimented with the kid and the Lazarus water judging by the scars they had discovered.

Someone might have deemed the kid a failure at first or the kid had escaped and somehow found his way to Jason's apartment with him probably being the closest thing to what the kid was.

Maybe the kid could sense him the way he could with his Pit. Shaking his head out of these thoughts Jason focused back at the problem at hand.

"I will check with Alfie, see if he knows any more hiding spaces kids would love to use." He patted his younger brother's shoulder only getting a grumble as answer before turning and going towards the elevators.

But before he could enter he once more glanced at the direction the pit was urging him to go. Hesitating, he looked back towards Timber and then the elevator.

"Fuck it." He muttered and decided to trust that stupid pit instinct or whatever that was, though with a threat in his stomach that once more just like the first time when they had searched through the cave to find the kid, the pit was leading him towards the Lazarus Pit.

Once he realized where he was going he stopped. "I should just fucking get Replacement or Demon Brat to check there." Muttering to himself he stared at the direction he was heading towards. When he found the little shit there before the kid had jumped him, chomping down on his arms.

The kid had only led go of him after he spat out green fucking Lazarus Water. Like what the actual fuck? Jason had pushed that experience as far out of his mind as he could but he was remembering it now again. It had been worrisome but they had chalked that up to the kids' contamination.

But now? Now that the pit in his mind was urging him to go there again? He couldn't help but think that there was more to it. Maybe his own dip in the pit had something to do with the little shits obsession with him?

Letting out a sigh he was ready to turn on his heel and get one of the others to check this area when he suddenly heard childlike laughter. "You are shitting me…"

With a scowl he marched towards the Lazarus Pit only to stop in his tracks the moment it came into view.

The little biter was sitting on the ground by the Pit as green glowing blobby orbs floated around the boy. The boy was poking them saying something, he couldn't really hear from this distance and then laughed. There was a light in his blue eyes that Jason hadn't seen before, a happiness even. It would be a really cute image of the kid playing with some green blobby orbs, if these things weren't probably some sort of dangerous Pit Demons.

Fuck what was he going to do now? If they were dangerous and he startled them the little shit could end up in real danger. So far they hadn't noticed him.

Grumbling while keeping an eye on the laughing boy, he sent a quick message into the chat telling the others little biter was in the batcave by the Lazarus pit. He knew the moment Tim saw the message he would come running, same with Demon Brat.

Despite knowing that was not a cute moment but dangerous, he snapped a picture anyway. Just for the record and to make sure he wasn't hallucinating or something. Because the kid was actually laughing, not hissing, not blankly staring, glaring or watching one of them but actually laughing like a kid his age with a shine in his eyes he hadn't seen before.

Demon Brat can thank him later for that picture, if Jason decides to share it with the others that was.

Echoing steps could be heard behind him and just like he predicted his brothers came running. The kid's laughter instantly stopped when he heard it too and his head snapped towards Jason, eyeing him warily. One of his hands was still stretched out towards one of the blobs, probably to pet it, but had stopped midway.

It was weird how the blobs were also now turning towards him and sort of looked displeased? Were these demons upset that they made the kid stop showering them in affection?

"Danyal!" Damn were they fast if they wanted to. Rushing past him their formerly youngest kneeled by his younger twins side patting the kid down and checking them over. Jason narrowed his eyes. Did Damian not notice the green glowing orbs that were all around the kid?

"So he was here the entire time?!" Timber asked the moment he coughed up, baffled. "How did we miss that?"

"Hey Replacement?" He had to ask, like come on, he couldn't be the only one seeing these green blobby orbs floating around the little biter and now the Demon Brat.

"Do you see-"

"What are these green blobs?"

Duke appeared next to them, clearly worried. Well that at least spared him having to ask that himself. From the corner of his eyes he watched how Tim blinked confused then rubbed his eyes like he was noticing them for the first time.

"Are those?"

"Small Pit Demons." Demon Brat answered them casually, waving one of them away when it got too close to his face. "They used to be around Grandfather's Lazarus Pit all the time. They seem to appear where Pits are and are harmless if you leave them be."

"Wait, you know about them?"

"Of course. They usually stay out of sight but it was not unusual to get a glimpse of them every now and then. Danyal used to point them out when we were younger. I am surprised that none of you ever noticed them before."

"Demon Brat, are you fucking kidding me? We got literally Pid Demons in the Batcave?!" They had fucking Pit Demons in the Batcave because of the Lazarus Pit and the damned brat didn't bother to tell them? What the fuck?

"Blob Ghosts! Not Demons!" The little biter piped up and Jason turned to stare at the kid not quite in disbelief but really? That was what the kid cared about, what they called these things?

"I don't fucking care what they are called. They still come for the fucking pit"

"Uhm…" Oh right all they hear from the kid is chirping or thrilling noises.

"What did Danyal call them?"

"Blob Ghosts."

"Blob Ghosts…" Before he knew it Tim was gone, nose deep in the weird ghost cult book muttering something about a connection between the Pits and that cult. Was he seriously carrying that book around everywhere now?

"Dami, can we keep-"

"No." Where were Dick and Bruce or maybe even Alfred? He did not want to act as the responsible eldest here. Helping Demon Brat sneaking various animals into the Manor to annoy Bruce was one thing but keeping fucking Pit Demons? Hell normally he would be all for it but fuck did he not want to deal with anything that came for the fucking Pits. Nope, this was not his kind of deal.

Apparently the kid didn't like his instant refusal as all he heard was a hiss in warning, followed by the simple command of "Smother him!"

His vision was swarmed with green and not the kind of green that happens when Pit Rage took over. No it was the kind where a lot of green glowing blobby orbs decide to swarm you. He swatted at them like they were flies, sometimes it worked, sometimes he noticed how his hand would go right through them without effect.

"Get the fuck away from me!"

"Danyal!" He could hear Demon Brats scowling tone but he didn't know what it was about until a second later he felt a weight hitting his chest knocking him over.

"WHAT THE FUCK?! GET FUCKING OFF ME!"

There was another hiss and a pain, he was getting familiar with, bloosemed in his right forearm and in between the green blobs he got a glimps of the little shit biting down on is arm a-fucking-gain. Though the kids eyes were blue he could still see a green flickering in them.

"Oh for the love of… Danyal! I told you to stop biting them!"

"Shouldn't we be more concerned about the Pit Demons attacking Jason?"

"Todd will be fine as I said they are harmless. Danyal, I said get off him this instant or I will tell Pennyworth to withhold your snacks."

"I feel like priorities aren't set right here…"

Despite his doubts… Duke still took a picture of the chaos to share with the others later. Dick surely would get a good laugh out of whatever this was.

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tatertato · 3 months

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Can we have a small little list of everyone’s roles/parts in the circus? (My peanut brain is getting a little lost)

cirque de la vie AU powers/roles list!

i did a poll on the gem and pearl post on whether or not i should release a full list, and guess which option won!

the results came out really close, so if you want to wait for the comics to drop, i advise you to simply ✨look away✨

this list is going to be formatted as: Name - Circus Act/Role - Power

some will be on this list without their powers, or with ambiguous descriptions of their powers until i finish their backstory comics because i really do want those ones to be a surprise, so look out for the update!

some of them i am still on the fence about as well, so the comic may not always line up with this list in the future, but i'll do my best to keep it up to date.

with all that out of the way, let's get into it!

Management

martyn - manager/organizer - enhanced hearing

ren - $the funding$ - none he's just rich (some form of smaller nobility)

The Performers

cleo - knife thrower - doesn't have magic, but alive somehow??? (hint: it has something to do with bdubs...)

etho - magician - has magic but hates using it (rumor has it that only bdubs knows what he's hiding)

bdubs - doubles as knife thrower and magician's assistant - something to do with time. no one knows exactly what, but sometimes he disappears for weeks on end. scar usually steps in as the replacement.

jimmy - aerial acrobat - wings/flight

grian - aerial acrobat - same as jimmy, but sometimes scar says his vision is uncanny

scar - ringmaster - jedi mind trick (he can convince anyone of anything depending on how strong their mind is)

lizzie - underwater escape artist - don't tell anyone, but she can definitely breathe underwater. the escapes are still pretty impressive tho

joel - stilts (11 foot joel is canon) - no power, he's just lizzie's supportive husband (more kenergy than jimmy)

gem - happy clown - deer traits, mostly enhanced agility

pearl - sad clown - doesn't like elaborating, but she disappears during full moons...

scott - tightrope walker - read the comic when it comes out lmao

impulse - juggler - power still very much in development, but he can talk to/see/control ghosts to a degree (inspired by the phasmo streams)

skizz - strongman - enhanced healing

tango - fire breather - literally breathes fire. very high internal temperature, good for winters.

The Production Team

mumbo - lighting (it's still the late 1800s-ish so the lighting is very rudimentary- that said, mumbo is a bit of a genius, so the shows still look pretty amazing) - is almost an unlimited source of electricity (he's a little eccentric, makes a big deal about how much of a human he is, which has sparked curiosity, but never enough for anyone to pry into. grian seems to know something.)

bigb- concessions (he sells cookies!) - everything he bakes tastes amazing! (he swears that's his only power, but he has a habit of leaving rooms through doors that weren't there before...)

pearl (again) - sets and props, she decorates the stage!

joel (again) - makes the boxes and tanks for lizzie to escape from

and that is all! i might have some hermits or empires folks make cameos every so often, but this is the main cast!

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dimepdf · 1 year

Text

𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋. + 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 '𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓' 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

masterlist. / taglist. / any request?

synopsis. since the moment that Ghost laid eyes on you, he has sworn to be smitten. too bad you are Soap's girl.

pairing. simon “ghost” riley x reader , johnny “soap” mactavish x reader

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, pwp, porn with plot, smut, hard pinning, semi public sex, sub!ghost, power kink, degradation kink, mommy issues, voice kink, humiliation, i know nothing about COD just here for my masked meow meow | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

Simon was no saint: sure, he credited himself for being a morally "sometimes" correct person with pretty decent values.

That alone should have been enough to build a platform on top of the truly irrational thoughts that would swirl in his thick skull and had only gotten worse since the day he joined the forces.

He had blamed his rough upbringing for a lot of things since the day he was born, but being as touched deprived as he was now was definitely one of the things he could check at the top of his list as the cause of his crippling mommy issues, and boy was your appearance only adding fuel to the fire.

Being deployed was something he had just gotten used to, the feeling of never really settling down and always being on guard, and being used to having eyes at the back of his head.

But there was one thing Simon could never quite figure out, something that seemed to come naturally to his charming pal Johnny, and that was women.

When Soap had first hinted to Ghost about him being in a two-year relationship so suddenly out of the blue a few months before you even managed to show your face. It was like playing a perplexing game of Where's Waldo to piece together the mystery woman about whom his partner was making risque jokes in their conversations.

At first, Simon just wanted to throw in the towel and was entirely convinced that you were just a figment of the soldier's imagination, not that he would blame him.

Simon understood that the battlefield is a pretty lonely place and wouldn't judge his friend for losing a couple of marbles along the way, but if Johnny was losing some of his rockers, he wouldn’t prefer the delusion to continue on for too long.

Before he could step in and pull the plug, your official appearance had almost knocked the wind from his chest like a brick straight to the heart.

Throughout the period that you were just a pieced-together image from the shitty descriptive words Johnny had used to describe you, Simon almost stumbled the moment he had laid eyes on you.

Perhaps it was because he hadn't had the opportunity to fully look at a woman in the way he was able to look at you, but words couldn't describe how your features had him struggling to tear his gaze away.

Luckily, his broadening and usually quiet demeanor were enough to cover up his pure awkwardness during your first introduction.

Struggling to form a normal question or even his name, Johnny introduces him with a dismissive pat on the shoulder before moving on and rounding up the rest of the team.

Since this, your appearance has been like a plague to him, like an infection burning under his skin, blurring the line between what is wrong and what is right.

If anything, you seemed to want to spread the infection even further from the way you would always try to joke with him, how you were always the only one to get handsy with him when talking, how you would always stand up for him when Soap would do his usual teasing, how your voice would always turn soft when you spoke to him, and despite all of that, you had still been in a loving relationship with Johnny, and yet Simon just couldn't shake you from his head.

You had him so smitten, like a stray puppy just looking for some sort of attention, and your mere existence was the bone of his dreams (literally and figuratively).

You had him staying up late at night with his makeshift mattress and a bundle of blankets to form the most comfortable cot he could build out in the middle of some country he had forgotten the name of.

Night had fallen, and the team decided it would be best to set up camp not far from the target's resting place in a nearby cleared-out lot.

Most people would have been thrilled to get a few extra hours of sleep to unwind after all the violence, but for Simon, those quiet moments were the fucking worst, and his erection, straining against his pants, begging for any ounce of attention as it pulsed against his briefs, only proved his point later on.

As everyone parted ways, not too far but not too close, Simon thought that he had spread out just enough away from everyone, alone in an empty room, to spread out and attempt to find his comfort against the rough hardwood flooring, but the moment he had heard the shuffle next door, his body was as still as a board.

Apparently, Simon wasn’t the only one looking for some alone time for the night.

The noises coming from the other side of the room that you and Johnny had occupied left Simon feeling like he was standing right there next to you as you two went at it.

He could only guess that you were pressed against the wall and being lifted into some sort of position that had you whimpering out Johnny's name and moaning out how big he felt inside of you and whimpering about how good he felt.

Simon would remember how he sat against the wall, listening to every moan and plea of pleasure that came from your mouth.

Simon knew that he was in dangerous territory the moment his fingers crept past the waistband of his pants and dipped into his underwear to relieve the growing problem tenting in his pants.

It was wrong to imagine fucking your best friend's fucking hot girlfriend, but in his defense, you just sounded so sweet, begging for dick.

Simon was just convinced it was like you wanted him to hear those sweet little whines.

His hips bucked in at the brush of his cold fingers wrapping around his hilt.

The sensation, paired with the sound of your hiccuping moans, sent a jolt of pleasure through his senses.

All he could hear was you as his hand fell in the humiliating action of jerking himself off.

His breath caught in his throat as his head slouched against the wall with a small thump, his heart skipping a beat at the noise but quickly ignored it as your sounds didn't seem to stop, reminding him that you were probably too busy getting your brains fucked out to listen to every little sound.

If anything, just the sheer realization sparked Simon to want to be louder—the thought of wanting to push that bar as far as he possibly could to the point where you would catch him in the act of pleasuring himself from the sound of your voice alone.

The thought of you punishing him for doing something so wrong—for touching himself without your permission—is terrifyingly arousing.

At the image, he let out a gasp, his mouth open, his eyes squeezed shut, and his hand quickened as he fisted his hands tighter at the scenarios of you controlling him, leaving him strung onto every command.

As your pleas became less and less audible, the bliss grew stronger and stronger.

Simon wanted to get familiar with the sound, with the noise of your orgasm creeping just around the corner.

As he could only make do with his hand, he imagined the feeling of being inside of you, the warmth of your walls, and as he brought himself closer to his own edge, the thick ribbons of cum shot from him with a grunt that followed just after yours.

The post-nut clarity left him catching his breath, yanking his mess-covered hand out of the front of his pants, and staring at everything that had unfolded with a hard, annoyed grunt.

God how he wished that he could have you.

🔖 comment or check link below to be added...

tap here to be added to taglist.

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sprout-fics · 10 months

Note

The 141+ Los Vaqueros (separate, ofc) with an S/O who is the quiet/shy type, but in that moment their super horny and don’t know how to ask for what they want, or maybe they feel embarrassed, etc. so instead they just stand their with their cheeks all red, fiddling with the hem of their shirt, or maybe just lightly grazing touches on the COD men and hoping they get the hint. Who’s gonna make them use their voice? Who’s gonna know exactly what they want and give it to them? Who’s gonna make them beg for/earn it? 🤔

Captain John Price

Will make you use your voice, might possibly make you work for it

He’s charmed by your bashfulness, your fiddling with the hem of his shirt on his lap as you don’t look him in the eyes

Usually he’s the one approaching you for sex, winding you up with husked little whispers and firm, purposeful touches of his palms, knowing exactly what buttons to push before you’re nothing more than a whining, mewling puddle in his hands

It’s just so easy. Your tells are so obvious, and he can see a mile away exactly what you want from him.

“You’re a big soldier, you can use your words.”

Even so, he likes to play that game, likes forcing you to say it out loud, likes rewarding your pleas by bending you over his desk, setting to work in ruining you in quick order

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

He’s a little cheeky about it

Gaz likes to tease when he can, but it’s all good natured, playful and sweet. He’s not nearly as bad as Soap, but he will sometimes go for the ‘Oh? Don’t think I heard you, a little louder?’

He’s very susceptible to you being shy and sweet but needy. It doesn’t take much for him to get the message when you nibble along the underside of his jaw, make a particular noise when he kisses you

He’s pretty attuned at reading you, fortunately. So when you give yourself away he’ll pull back, excited, pleased with just a little ‘Yeah?’ while you nod and try to drag him closer again

He has to coax you from being too shy sometimes, has to tell you he wants to hear you ask for it.

Not in a mean way, just in a ‘Gotta talk to me, dove’, if only to make sure he’s taking care of you

John 'Soap' MacTavish

The worst tease

Absolutely terrible tbh

It’s rare, too. Usually you don’t have to ask because Johnny has already beaten you to the punch. He can barely keep his hands to himself, constantly touching you with the purpose of suggestion, huffing into your ear about ‘Upstairs? Bed? Please?’

But sometimes, in the gentler days, you’ll both be sitting on the couch and you’ll just suddenly decide you want him

It’s those days that you’ll shift your legs, try to summon the words to say ‘Hey, Johnny…’ and then be too embarrassed to speak

He plays the game right back at you, will make a point to haul you into his lap and lets his hands roam as he goes ‘You know what? …Ah no, nevermind. …Actually? Nah, forget it.’It’s the worst, because he won’t let up even when you’ve asked, will ask you to speak up, will continue to tease you before he just laughs, presses you into the couch with a twinkling smile

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

You two have gotten to know each other very well, and there’s a certain level of trust between you that extends past the point of words

You can look at Simon the right way, can have an entire conversation between your stares that ends with him nodding, hoisting you up and carrying you in the direction of the bedroom

It takes time, however, and before that happens you’re forced to communicate what you want because Simon is dense

To the point where you stand in one of his shirts in his bedroom door, and even then it takes a few moments for it to click. He’s not used to this, to someone being shy but wanting with him, trying and failing to ask for the things they want

When he’s in a certain mood he will make you ask for it, is a little meaner about it than Price. Stern, but not necessarily cold, likes to flaunt that little power he has over you, briefly enjoying the sight of you squirming before he surrenders “Tell me.” He demands, slow and dark, one hand braced over your head as he leans down over you, watches your lips form the word please

Colonel Alejandro Vargas

When he’s asked, he doesn’t need to be asked twice

That being said, you need to ask

Ale is often quite busy as a colonel, might miss your more subtle tells

It’s not that he forces you, it’s that you just need to get his attention, and that’s a hard thing to do when you’re shy

So you resort to little tugs on his clothes, insistent but quiet, making him turn to you in question, catch your expression

He doesn’t get it the first few times, cups your face in his hands and asks what’s wrong, are you okay? Upset?

He’s surprised then when you shake your head, ask him if he…if he would just come to bed?

It takes him a second, but his face lights up, and he peppers you with excited little kisses

“All you needed to do was tell me.”

Rodolfo Parra

Gentle, beloved Rudy

Who will one day tumble you into bed without you having to speak a word, and the next will have you ask him over and over again as he kisses you senseless, repeating yourself endlessly until your face scrunches in desperation

He always hushes you when you do, presses kisses slow and languid against your lips, apologizes for teasing, and then absolutely does it again

He’s not sadistic about it, far from it

He’s just addicted to the soft pleas of you asking for him, wants to hear it as often as he can, his beautiful, beloved, shy cariño, so sweet and gentle but so endearingly bashful that he can hardly stand it

“One more time.” He tells you, face buried in your neck, and you want to throw a hand over your face and beg

“Please.” You try again, voice near cracking. “Please, I want you to…to make love to me.”

He does. They all do, in their own way, finding ways to take you apart so desperately that you can’t help but fall in love all over again

#cod x reader #cod headcanons #call of duty imagine #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #x reader #reader insert #thursday night thots

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typenull · 8 months

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While the climax of Dunmesh [here’s your warning for spoilers] gives us an extremely thorough look into Laios’s psyche and his own desires, we don’t actually know that much about Falin, despite her “death” kicking the entire story into motion. The only bits of Falin we get to see are through the lens of other characters, who inherently show us their own biased perceptions of her. I’d go as far to say that Falin is actually the character in Dungeon Meshi who’s true desires we know the least about!

We know with absolute certainty at least a few things: Falin is gifted with powerful magic, wants to follow behind and travel with her brother who she deeply respects, loves her friend Marcille, likes fruits and creams, loves insects and is curious about monsters, once again like Laios… most of the things we learn about Falin are things that she has in common with her brother, but what does SHE want, deep down? How does she feel about everything? I don’t think we’ll fully get an answer to that question before the manga is over. This is definitely on purpose though, and has even been hinted at in the text (which I’ll get to later).

In my opinion the main difference between Falin and Laios is that Falin doesn’t want to hurt anyone besides herself (for the sake of others, and she barely knows who that self is) and Laios wants to hurt anyone who he “doesn’t like” (anyone who endangers him and those he loves). Both of these feelings stem from the same shared events of their childhood where they both began to feel “disconnected” from humanity so to speak, but they reacted to it in opposite ways.

Where Laios stubbornly ran away and refused to deal with being hurt and surrounded by hurt, Falin, who we rarely see making choices based on any desires for herself (staying in the academy for 8 years after being sent by her father despite not thinking it’s for her, nearly agreeing to marry Shuro just so that she doesn’t have to deal with being asked later, etc.), doesn’t object to anything she’s subject to because the only person being “hurt” in these scenarios is herself, which to her is acceptable. She accepts the fact that she’s considered “othered” extremely easily, and this reflects openly in both her behavior and in the few things we know about her: she connects with and cares deeply for spirits despite being ostracized, admires insects and monsters like her brother, and is even fine planning to take on a job that’s revered in her hometown. To Falin, being “othered” is more normal to her than the alternative

The only people in Falin’s life that make her feel like *more* than just an outsider are Laios and Marcille. As a result Laios and Falin end up with similar sounding mindsets on the surface; "As long as [the people I love] are okay, I don't care about anything else" — but underneath, they actually manifest completely differently! Where Laios “doesn’t care about people”, Falin cares deeply about them despite barely being treated as one.

The only *active* decision from Falin we see that most obviously reflects her deepest desires is her choice to die for those she loves, which I think says a lot about her.

I think that if Laios is “a human who wants to become a monster” because he hates humans due to his past, the most obvious foil to him is Kabru, “a human who wants to destroy monsters” because of his past in Utaya (and feeling like a monster himself). Thinking of them as two ends of a spectrum, in the grey middle ground of this is where I think I’d put Falin.

She’s simultaneously a human made subhuman, a monster made to follow Thistle, a “ghost” of her former self haunting Laios and Marcille — she really IS the absolute epitome of a “chimera”.

The Lion cursing Laios was the “hinting in the text” I talked about earlier: forcing his deepest desire into something seemingly impossible to achieve, a chimera. The surface level conclusion when reading this is that Falin won’t be revived, but I seriously don’t think it’ll be that simple in the end. After all, a chimera is multifaceted.

My hope for the final chapter of Dungeon Meshi is that, *if* by some chance Falin is revived, she will finally have to grapple with not only having to look deep within herself to answer all of these things for her own sake, but also with having the one opportunity in which she chose to use any sort of agency to act upon her deepest desires not only be completely reversed, but also hurting so many people in the process. When Falin is revived in the Red Dragon arc, she doesn’t even remember sacrificing herself for her friends — but she promises Laios to never do it again, falling back into her typical submissive obedience. How would she react the second time? Will we even get to know? Something tells me, probably not.

#dungeon meshi spoilers #Oh big whoop the guy whos name is chimera is fascinated by the chimera #Anyway i wrote all of this to say reducing falin to ‘haunting the narrative’ is to reduce her to nothing. thanks #I wrote this like an article on my website so just pretend i’m well enough to be on my pc ok ?#I hope the last page of dungeon meshi is falin opening her eyes and then the story ends #dm #dungeon meshi #falin touden

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evilcowgirl · 7 months

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thinking about toxic!abby getting jealous over a fem!reader flirting with someone else….

bite the hand

abby anderson/reader

a/n: this took 300 years srry :p + warnings for manipulation and degradation methinks <33

Abby's got her hand around your wrist so tight that it burns, but you don't struggle against her, you know better. You know better because Abby's taught you so well and you usually are such a good girl for her without even thinking. Anytime she tells you to do something you don't bother trying to reason with it or argue because it's no use.

"I can't believe you had to ruin our night like this." She's talking out loud so you can hear her, she wants you to. Still, you know not to respond because she's still venting and she hates to be interrupted. "We were having a good time until you started looking for attention."

It wasn't true though, none of it. Abby wasn't having a good time the second you two left her apartment, a slight frown on her lips and her gaze hardened all night. It wasn't hard for you to notice that something was wrong with how well you knew her. There were countless times where Abby would leave you guessing on how she felt. On the way to your mutual friend's house she was quiet, letting you choose the music and only humming in response to your attempts to borrow her attention. It left you with a weighing feeling of uncertainty that you were powerless to. It always seemed like Abby held more control over your emotions than you did yourself.

You both greeted your friend as if nothing was wrong at all, Abby's genuine smile while she did so had almost fooled you. With the amount of conversations taking place all around you it was loud and quiet all at the same time. You found yourself barely listening to anyone. It made it alot easier to notice Abby’s silence.

"Are you okay?" You ask, leaning against her a bit so the words stay between just you two. She doesn't look at you, her eyes are still on her old roommate who's drunkenly rambling about something you couldn't care less about.

"Why wouldn't I be?" She says calmly, you wonder if you're imagining the hint of aggravation in her tone, you hope that you are.

You held your drink between your two hands, looking down into the cup of some strong mixture that burned your throat a bit but gave you a pleasant feeling that called your nerves. It was easier to forget Abby's stiff responses with each drink that you had. She noticed, sparing you a rare glance when you'd return to your place on the couch after refilling your cup. You wanted more than a glance though, you wanted Abby to tell you why she was being so cold.

She's passing by when she taps you, a playful hand ghosting over your shoulder. When you look behind you, you see her smiling down at you. It felt like an invitation, made more enticing by the alcohol in your system and the feeling of abandonment from your girlfriend.

She’s standing by the kitchen island, leaning against the counter with all of the half empty bottles. When you get up you’re sure Abby doesn’t even notice. You leave your cup on the coffee table in front of you two, right next to her full one. She never drinks when you go out, you assumed in the beginning that it was because she was the one who drives most of the time. You noticed it even when you were with a small group of friends, when she didn’t even have the excuse of being the designated driver, she still prefers being the only one who stays sober. You learned later in your relationship that Abby has an undying obsession with being in power that's almost carnal in nature.

“Hi there.” She says. Her voice is low but you can still hear her over all the chatter. Somehow she’s got you hooked just like that.”

“Hi” Your response is noticeably cheerful in a way that makes her smile.

Abby's got to look around the room to calm herself down and get her breathing together. She's so angry with you that the only thing stopping her from grabbing you and forcing you in the car right then is the crowds of people around. You had to know how upset you were making her, there was no way you were this clueless. You always noticed when something was wrong, it was something she often resented. That simple fact fulled her disappointment in you, you knew her so well, better than she kneel herself at times. There was no way you hadn't planned to ruin her night by throwing yourself at this girl when everyone knew that you're her’s. You had no excuse.

Abby's friends were all just background noise to her, their words all indistinct like tv static. She kept her eyes on you unashamedly. She hates your dress. She hates the fact that she even let you leave like that now that you had someone else other than her to impress.

You laughed, a real one, she could tell. It made her lungs ache seeing you like that with someone else. You barely knew this girl, she was a friend of a friend, someone you had no reason to be speaking to with a smile on your face that should only be reserved for her. Abby’s watching you two talk with her jaw clenched. One of her friends called her name, seeing how she’d completely checked out of the conversation.

“I’m still listening.” She assures her. It was a lie though and she had no idea what the rest of the group was talking about, nor did she care.

You get closer to her with every giggle, the small distance between you dwindling even more as she leans in to say something to you. It’s almost comical how clearly she’s flirting with you now and Abby’s frustration is probably noticeable now. She feels sick with it. She’s thankful that everyone around her is either too drunk or high to notice. Whatever she says to you earns her another laugh, not only that but you actually touch her. It’s only a hand on her shoulder but you might as well be fucking right infront of her. She’s really questioning if you’re actually that stupid now. Shaking her head, she stands up abruptly and heads for the porch out front. It’s mostly isolated with everyone opting for the backyard instead and she can’t stand the sight of other people right now. The cool air of the night stings her bare arms but she couldn’t care less. Leaning against the railing she stares off at nothing in particular, letting her eyes lose focus in the darkness. She can imagine you now, back in there showing everyone how little she meant to you. How little you cared about being her’s. Usually when she got this upset you were there to comfort her and get her calm enough to think things through but that wasn’t an option.

It took you just over three minutes with a drunk distracted mind to notice something had changed in the room that made you slightly uncomfortable. So much so that your recently claimed friend felt the need to ask you what was on your mind. You weren’t even sure how to answer her until you took a confused look around and noticed the empty spot where Abby had been. Your stomach dropped immediately, and when you didn’t spot her anywhere close your mind started racing.

“My girlfriend,” You said ambiguously.

“Abby? I’m sure she’s close” You aren't sure how to interpret it but you weren't going to take her word regardless.

When you tell her you have to go she nods understandingly. You feel slightly nauseous when you stand.

You walk back over to Abby’s spot and grab her jacket she left. It's much too big on you but you wrap it around your arms for some sort of comfort.

“She’s out front.” Someone supplies. One of Abby’s many friends that you don't recognize. you thank them. You can’t even begin to think of a reason she would up and leave like that, especially with how serious she gets about keeping you close. On the way to the door you slip through bodies urgently, bumping into a few people and muttering apologies.

Your first thought is to yell when you see her standing there, she looks cold with her nose red and the wind blowing the long pieces of hair that frame her face.

“Abby, what the hell are you doing out here?” You ask her. You shrug off her jacket and place it over her instead. You lean against her, happy to see that she's alright.

“I’m surprised you even noticed that I was gone.” She says with dry humor in her voice. She steps away from you, pulling away from your touch. It makes you feel even more cold than the worsening weather. Abby shakes her head at the confused look on your face, refusing to let you make her feel with the pathetic puppy-eyes you love to use against her.

“Can we just go now? I’m fucking tired.” It’s not jarring to hear her say it, just unexpected.

There’s a brief moment when you try and think of a way to respond. Your thoughts are slow. “Yeah, of course.” You say, because you don't really feel like being out anymore either.

She drives with a scowl that you can’t ignore. Being drunk and emotional didn't help either. You try your best to keep your mouth shut for the whole ride, looking down at your legs and toying at the hem of your dress like a scolded child. Once you were close to the apartment you couldn't deal with the silence anymore.

“Why are you acting like I did something wrong?” You ask.

Abby looks over to you and your body almost flinches, “Did you seriously just ask me that? After what you pulled back there, you're seriously asking me what my fucking problem is?” The harshness of her words makes you start to tear up.

“I didn't do anything back there, we were just talking.” The unsteadiness of your voice was a sure sign that you were going to start crying soon and she didn't want to deal with that tonight.

“You were acting like a slut with that girl you don’t even know, and now you're trying to make me seem like the bad guy for calling you out on it. I don't have time for this.” She hated seeing you cry, especially when she was the one causing it, but the bitter feeling of guilt wasn't enough incentive for her to be less aggressive.

Now she was dragging you into her apartment, a strong hand wrapped around your wrist as you tried to keep up with her, only stumbling a bit when you're being pulled up the stairs. When she tells you that you ruined both of your nights you aren't in any position to not believe her. She only lets you go to unlock the door. Abby’s got her weights stacked near the entrance and on the other side of them is a coat hanger that you place your cardigan on.

The low light of the room exaggerates every curve of her exposed arms and vein under her skin. She looks broader, her shadow completely engulfs you. Abby’s power over you is undeniable, it’s not simply physical but psychological too. Just knowing she’s anything less than happy with you floods you with dread. You feel weak as you watch her take a seat on the bed. The silence is expected, she wants you to speak first.

You all but crawl to her, shifting closer until you’re able to place your head on her clothed thigh. The rough material of denim against your face. You feel so frail with her looking down at you, like just the right word from her would make you break down. Her blue eyes are dark and much easier to look into now. The softness of it all feels like a kiss. She’s not as intimidating when you’re this close to her. For you, it almost feels like you're Abby’s equal, like she’s just as vulnerable as you are. She reminds you constantly that it’s not true but it doesn't stop you from finding yourself back in this place beneath her over and over again. She loves it like this, it’s proof that she has you in her palm. You under her, begging her just to speak to you. She wonders how far she can push it. If you’d let her pull your hair and tell you just how dumb you are for thinking she’d be fine with how you acted tonight. She knows you would, since you're always so obedient for her when she tears you down.

“Abby.” You say to her.

“Yeah, doll?”

“I’m sorry for upsetting you. Are you still mad with me?” You say, gentle and sanguine. You've got to know because it's ripping you up inside.

Abby looks at you in a way that causes anxiety to creep up your throat. You can’t tell if she hates you for asking that but you need to know, you have to.

Her hand is large and warm at your cheek. Soft in a familiar way and it eases all the bad thoughts in your head. You lean into her touch, desperate for it. It’s so pathetic. The fact that she’s willing to touch you is a good sign. When Abby’s really mad with you she avoids giving you any kind of affection because you don’t deserve it in her eyes.

“Do you think I should be?” It’s devastating to hear.

“I’m not sure.”

She nods at your answer and you pray silently from your position on the floor that it didn't disappoint her.

“You’re lucky I love you so much, anyone else wouldn't put up with you.” She says it like it's a fact and you accept it as one. “You know that, right?”

“I know.”

#abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson tlou2 #abby the last of us #abby anderson #abby anderson fanfic #tlou2 #tlou2 fanfic #abby anderson smut #the last of us fanfiction #abby x you

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yandere-kokeshi · 1 year

Note

Do you write headcanon? If so, could you write yandere alejandro headcanon?? thank u <33

— Yandere headcanons of Alejandro Vargas

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, military stuff. DM to let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: AHHH!!! Yesss, tysm anon!! I'm so sad he's so underrated. Hope you enjoy!

His behavior consists of being overprotective, possessive, and extremely clingy. While Alejandro flirts with you, he tries to keep it subtle and gives hints that he likes you; which, at times, gives you the impression he does this to everyone he meets.

It’s quite possible that you already have a friendship with him — working alongside him in the Mexican Special Army or helping him with the TF-Ghost Team.

But, that doesn’t mean you could be outside the campus! You could be a civilian he saved from someone following you, scaring them off with his booming voice and offering to walk you home; which, you politely took as he’s the damn colonel. Or possibly he came to a restaurant with Rodolfo and saw you there as his waiter, infatuated with the way you walked and talked; staring at you like a deer.

Either way, you’ve caught the attention of a man who’s determined to get you swooped off your feet with him.

85% of your time during the day is with him, through and through. Whenever you wanna hang out at some place, he’s right beside you and ordering drinks for the both of you; his arm resting behind you as his fingers graze gently against your back.

He's a gentleman, offering to pay for everything and anything. Went to an expensive restaurant? He's paying. Wanting to hang out with your friends? Sure! Why don't let him come along? Plus, he gets to see your friends.

Speaking of friends, Alejandro keeps tabs on everyone that you encounter, even if your with your childhood friend; he'll check their background and see if they're fit for you.

Alejandro is extremely protective. Even before he takes you, he makes sure you're able to defend yourself; have 1–1 training to make sure you can take down someone twice your size.

Though, this man is the definition of berserk if you get hurt or simply get yelled at on the street. He’s not beyond hurting someone if they threaten you, let alone touch you or even speak an ounce of disrespect in front of him.

While this man is full of determination, it’s a whole new step when it comes to you. He will go far beyond to make sure you’re safe and in his hold. Way safer than being around anyone else who isn’t capable of protecting you.

Alejandro is very skilled, not only in combat but watching you from afar. He loves to admire you, watch your hair blow in the wind or simply see you smile with others. It’s another skipped heartbeat if and when you laugh with him.

His obsession starts to shatter when he sees you smiling, simply laughing at a joke with someone; it could be a friend, possibly a customer, or your lover. Whoever it is, he's immediately planning to take you for him.

Alejandro would kidnap you within a few months (1-4 months max). He would simply come up with a few lies; if you're in the military, he would purposely make you come up as M.I.A. Though if you're a civilian, he'd come up that you suddenly disappeared, to suddenly reappear; coming from being trafficked or being kidnapped, being saved by this man.

Though, when he finally decides to take you. He makes sure to make it as harmless as possible. Possibly spiking your drink,

When you wake up in a comfortable bed, birds chirping in the background and covered in thin sheets; he immediately comes in and announces his love to you.

Whether how you take it is up to you. Though, much like Ghosts headcanon, you are not chained to the bed. Alejandro would hate to hurt you more than he already have.

But, he will use his strength and power to make you stay obedient. Though, if you dare to challenge him, he's always liked your blunt and bratty side.

While he's very possessive, he still allows you to keep in contact with friends and family. Even then, it's possible they've already met him, completely head over heels with him at how romantic and amazing he is. This also includes of you leaving the home, as long as you stay near him and keep contact; he doesn't mind.

His affection is shown in many ways: buying gifts, making food, and verbally and physically telling you he loves you. The two of you normally come home with him having three or more bags full of goodies for you. He absolutely adores spoiling you like no other.

Cuddle sessions to the max. Alejandro cannot keep his hands off you once he arrives home. He'll kiss your hand, chin, forehead, and head often. You won't be able to watch a show by yourself without him plopping himself near you, squeezing and kissing your body while mumbling love words to you.

While he’s out and about, being occupied with his duties. He will occasionally ask Rodolfo to stop by the home and check up on you. Which is at least a few times a day.

The both of you are likely good friends, or simply well acquainted where the two of you feel comfortable being near each other. Normally, he will stay to help you with anything and than be on his way to tell Alejandro about you.

—

My masterlist || Reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!! Stay well!!

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