#the ghosts effects goes hard

[jinjeriffic]

DPxDC and OOC

I've had a couple of posts cross my dash recently where people lament that a lot of the dpxdc fandom writes characters very OOC and how we're proliferating these characterizations among each other. I figured I'd add my own two cents.

I think the fundamental discrepancy comes from trying to reconcile two canons with vastly different tones.

Danny Phantom is a comedy superhero show operating on cartoon logic. Why do ghost experts Jack and Maddie never realize their own kid is a ghost? Why is the status quo restored at the end of every episode? Why does Danny shoot an ectoblast out of his butt that one time? Because it's funny. It's cartoony action fun where the plot is resolved in 22 minutes, there's never any lasting consequences and it's aimed at kids.

DC meanwhile wants to be taken Seriously. Heroes get beaten within an inch of their life, traumatized, killed and even the good guys do messed up things (often to each other). Yes there's action and puns, but also horrific violence, actions have consequences and it's (mostly) aimed at adults. When a main character dies the comics show their family and friends mourning and things are very dramatic. Even though at this point we, the audience can pretty much expect every death to be undone within 2-5 years of publishing, but I digress.

So how do we, the fanfic/fanart creators reconcile these differences when we make our crossovers? We either make DP more serious and somber, or we make DC more comedic.

Suddenly we have a DP verse where the Fentons' bumbling obliviousness is elevated to serious neglect or outright abuse. The GiW are no longer a minor annoyance, they are a serious threat with genocidal plans and a desire to vivisect the protagonist. When actions have consequences, we imagine Danny as dealing with serious PTSD from having to be a solo superhero and witnessing his family's death that one time (and maybe also getting vivisected). Danny is not just a teen superhero, he's now the Ghost King with serious responsibility on his shoulders.

On the flipside, if we make DC more comedic we tend to exaggerate character traits for comedic effect, focus more on the interpersonal dynamics (especially the Batfam) and have the characters act more casual and silly. Suddenly the Batfam goes from a group of seriously messed up individuals who have trouble communicating with each other and fight all the time to Batdad "Kids if you don't stop killing criminals you won't get dessert ffs" Bruce. Violence is played for laughs instead of taken seriously. Yeah they fight, but they still Love Each Other.

And THIS IS PERFECTLY FINE. It's transformative work! And trying to reconcile these disparate fandoms is hard! Fandom is a labor of love. We do it for free. We do it for our own entertainment. And no one is forcing you to read fics you don't like. DLDR and all that.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #meta #danny phantom #dc comics

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 41

Hear me out, DP and DC crossover where Scarecrow is cousins with the Fentons. 

 His mother was siblings with Jack’s father, and both Jazz and Danny met ‘Uncle Jonathan’ during one of the many Fenton-Nightingale family reunions that happens every few years. Honestly, perhaps it’s what gets Jazz interested in psychology, hearing from her ‘uncle’ about fear and its effects.

 And honestly once they start having to deal with ghosts and having had to deal with their parents for years it’s not really hard to talk with their uncle. Crane still doesn’t know how he became these kids’ favorite uncle, or even all of the family kids’ favorite uncle-cousin, but that’s just how the family is. 

 Really he’s not even the only villain of the family, with both Jack and Maddie being close but not quite, even if they’re definitely mad scientists. Their son becoming a local hero, even if they’re not aware of that fact, is just ironic. 

 John knows. The two kids told him when they found out that Danny may or may not need to feed on fear now that he’s half ghost, and well he’s the specialist about the emotion so…

 At least they have someone to stay with when Jazz goes to Gotham university and brings Danny with her, even if the local vigilantes are concerned as to why Scarecrow attacks have suddenly took a nosedive…

#dcxdp #dpxdc #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jonathan crane #scarecrow #Uncle Scarecrow Au #Crane: How the fuck did I end up being the responsible one in this family when I am a wanted man declared insane #Crane looking at the rest of his family and their warrents: Oh... oh no I AM the responsible one #Liminal Crane who is sipping liquid fear toxin like it's coffee while he's sleep deprived/hangry: #His goons: *terrified nervous sweating* #batman au #gotham #ghost biology #liminal biology #Scarecrow deserves to have matching fangs and reflective green eyes like his niblings #Batfam learning about the fact that Scarecrow literally *needs* to eat fear to live: #prompts

[the-witchhunter]

DP x DC: Ghost x Family

So, back on my cute romcom BS

So the premise. Dani, as Danny's speed grown clone, wasn't the most physically stable. Turns out, it's really hard to speed grow a clone, and even harder when ectoplasm is involved. There's not enough time for the structures to properly stabilize and that leaves the cellular structure pretty weak and prone to breaking down into goo. The ecto dejecto was just a temporary solution and other measures were needed

aka Dani had to essentially grow a body from scratch the old fashion way, so she's now physically her actual age minus a couple months

So Danny, at the age of 20, is the father of a 4 year old Dani and is trying to keep a low profile in Gotham. His and his daughter's existence is still illegal, and being the single father of a 4 year old ghost girl isn't exactly easy. Now Danny has to deal with the very real threat of CPS being called on him by a neighbor, and trying to get Dani into school without either of them having papers for their assumed identity of Danny and Dani Nightingale and money to by fake documents. He'd ask Tucker, but that requires braking radio silence and potentially putting a target on all three of their backs.

Danny, desperate, asks his neighbor Jason to pose as his significant other for a meeting. Jason agrees, but things escalated and frankly he's now emotionally invested and committing to the bit

So now he and Danny have legally been married for about 4 months according to the papers Babs made them. The fake ID, birth certificates, SSNs, and high school diploma for the Nightingales were simple enough for her to do, but man Jason is going to owe her a BIG favor for this.

They move in together, Dani goes to a good private school, Jason is effectively Danny's sugar daddy paying for a sizable chunk of all this, and they are committing to the loving married couple bit, which is hard to do when the new in-laws are detectives

The best part?

Danny has not figured out Jason is the Red Hood, and Jason doesn't know about the ghost stuff. The only one that does? Dani, and she is physically and mentally 4 and watching Jason and Danny fall in love

oh the shenanigans

OR

I've been watching SPY x FAMILY and just need the fake relationship/family turns into a real relationship/found family dynamic. Jason is basically Loid, Danny is pretty much Yor, Dani fills the role of Anya, and uncle Dick is Yuri, except he's doting on Dani.

Dick is a smart man, but I love the headcanon that Jason is his emotional blindspot. Jason? MY Littlewing? He couldn't possibly.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #writing prompt #writing #dpxdc #found family and fake relationship rolled into one #dani has two loving dads #plus she can be friends with Lian #Roy and Jason organizing little play dates #part because the girls are best friends but also because it is a convenient cover for Red hood and arsenal teamups

[sp0o0kylights]

Indie horror filmmaker Eddie Munson, high off his first big (underground but notable) success, knows the movers and shakers of the film world have their eyes on him. 

They're just waiting to see if he was a one hit wonder before they open all the doors he's been trying to kick down. 

His next upcoming film is his chance, his shot at finally making it. Of being like Rob Zombie and the other creators he looks up to that masterfully blended metal and horror. 

This is his golden ticket. 

The project starts off smooth. His last success has greased the wheels, and things fall into place faster than ever before. 

He's got the best idea for this insane haunted house story, a true "mazes in mazes" type of deal with a queer twist. A real look at how a place can haunt a person just as easily as a ghost can.

 Everything's going swimmingly--until one of his leads drops out the day they're due to start shooting.

No call no show's, and later, Eddie will find out the guy got a last second call back to be a contestant on one of those Love Island bullshit romance gigs (and laugh his ass off when the main love interest takes one look at Billy Hargrove and goes on a five minute rant about ugly mullets on national television) but right now? 

He's fucked. 

He's called in every favor he has for this film. Maxed out every credit card he owns, tapped every contact, got on his hands and knees and begged his rising star journalist best bud to help him market it. (Which Nancy agreed too, for way less cash than she should have.) 

 Eddie can't get anyone on the phone, much less find a replacement actor and the amazing place they rented, that is so dark and wonderfully eerie, is booked out the rest of the year as an AirBnB. 

If he doesn't film now, he loses it all.

Cue the other lead, unknown theater actor Steve Harrington, watching his hair pulling, tire kicking, 'cursing and hopping while holding a toe' mental breakdown and asks why Eddie himself doesn't act in it. 

"Just go full Kevin Smith man. Act and direct." He says, with an easy grin. 

Jeff, Eddie's tried and true videographer, trades glances with Gareth and Grant (Eddie's long used special effects and makeup team, who double for about twelve other jobs because they're also his best friends and they're all in this together, make or break.)

"We don't really have a lot of other options." Gareth hedges. "You're already using me and Grant as background characters." 

Eddie, hands fluttering around his face as though trying to wave away this entire situation, squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained hiss. 

"Fine, fine!" He announces with the air of a man running towards a fire. "Fuck it, this is our one shot and so help me I will be shooting it!" 

Steve politely hides a laugh with a cough. 

"Chuckle all you want big boy, I'm going to tragically romance you so hard people will forget both of our characters actually live." Eddie snarls.

Steve, the handsome bastard, just winks.  "Looking forward to it." 

Eddie blushes, but hides it with a surge of frantic energy, conveyed by lots of yelling and moving and getting the ball rolling. 

Two days later, Steve would give the performance of a lifetime down on his knees, covered in a literal pound of fake gore, booty shorts and nothing else as he sobbed about how a lover could become a home. His hands clawed at Eddie's jeans before resting a tear stained face on a slim leg as he bent his body towards Eddie like it hurt to be away from him. 

Eddie would later receive equal praise in his own acting during the scene, with the world and every reporter in it asking how he conveyed an otherworldly panic so beautifully throughout Steve's performance. What was he thinking, to evoke those expressions on his face? 

The way his own pale hand, unmarred by blood and acting as a metaphor for the plot, would come to stroke Steve's cheeks.

Eventually he'd come up with a smooth polished answer that cheekily pleased his audience, but nothing would ever come close to the truth. 

("Eddie I've known you since grade school." Jeff said that night, a scant few hours after they'd wrapped. "You can act man, but not like that." 

Eddie made a wild "shut up" gesture, looking frantically over his shoulder before admitting; "You saw how close his face was to the prince of darkness!? I was seconds away from popping a boner next to his lips, in front of the 4K camera!” 

Eddie bounced into Jeff’s face so he could hiss: “He fucking had his chin on my thigh, Jeff, and I am only a man. A mere mortal!" 

"So we're gonna unpack all of that later." Jeff said finally, when he'd managed to get his mouth working and Eddie back out of his personal space. "But dude, we've talked about you calling your dick the prince of darkness." 

Eddie flipped him off.) 

One year later and critics named Corroded the best horror film of the year, praising the camera work, practical effects, and how there wasn't a soul alive who was surprised to hear Eddie and Steve were dating after their explosive on screen chemistry.

No one ever quite understood the prince of darkness jokes or why Steve mentioning it made Eddie blush, but that was a secret to find out later. 

Today on WIP’s I have no intention of writing, indie horror movie AU!

#at some point this became a warmup for the warmup #and it feels very silly #LOL #steddie #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #horror movie AU #no upside down #eddie would have the STUPIDEST names for his dick #I will die on that hill #that is a man who has put googly eyes on his third leg #and then cried because they wouldn't come off #its why he loves steve bc steve would talk to it like a beloved pet #daddy misssess youuuu #corroded coffin as a unit hates them so much when they do this shit its the bane of their existance

[dcxdpdabbles]

Dc x DP: Vague Threats

Danny Fenton gets a full ride to Gotham University, thanks to the Wayne Foundation. He won the scholarship after submitting his research on purple-back gorillas, seeing as the zoo incident had led to him wanting to study zoology after being a astronaut was out.

He was surprised that Gotham University had one of the best programs in zoology in the whole country, but that may be due to Bruce Wayne funding the whole department because his youngest loves animals.

In any case, he is expected to participate in specific requirements to keep his scholarship. Things like community service hours, GPA averages, and attendance to Wayne Galas.

Now community service isn't hard. He volunteers at an animal shelter. His GPA isnt hard, he has a 4.0 because when he cares, he is brilliant. No what's hard is the Galas.

He has to attend a total of 2. The scholarship fundraiser is unarguable, and another Gala of his choice. Danny has avoided the second one as best he can, and he knows it's to get rich people to donate so he can keep studying but the Galas are suffocating.

Mainly Danny stands in a corner invisible after the first 30 minutes, allowing himself to become visible when people start questioning where he is. He has to, otherwise he is acussed of not being there.

Danny is doing that when Bruce Wayne and his butler stop right before him and talk about the batcave.

Danny blinks, his eyebrow-raising higher and higher as they mutter details of a case. Then Bruce tells his butler to cover for him so he can go out. Danny follows and watches the man disappear down a clock, further investigation leads him to the Batcave.

So Bruce Wayne....is Batman. Huh. Welp that has nothing to do with Danny.

He returns to the party, appearing only four times, and heads home. The following morning he finds out Batman, along with Nightwing and Red Robin, had put a stop to a gang fight.

He thinks of how tired Bruce must be, and so as he's cleaning the dog cages gets an idea. He finishes his work for the day, goes to his house, and opens his miniature portal into the ghost zone to buy some teas and soap Baths.

The ghost zone products have an amazing effect on humans to help heal them faster thanks to the pure ectoplasm. He puts together a gift basket for everyone in the Wayne family- including the butler- and sends them to Wayne Manor through a ghost vulture.

He just wanted to thank them for all their hard work to keep him and the city safe. Mody Dick, knows he would have appreciated it when he was still acting as Phantom back in Amity Park.

He includes thank you letters each, including specific examples of how they have help the city both in and out of costume.

Danny then goes to his next lecture class with a pat on his shoulder. He feels so good about it, he decides to send them every other week.

Across the city, the Wayne are panicking that someone just sent them all a basket with a very vague threat of exposing their identities. They scramble to find the person who found out, but with no leads or evidence, they can only pray that whoever found them out wouldn't hurt their loved ones.

The personal threats only made them more uneasy. Are they being followed? How close have they gotten to have such details?

Tim Drake is determined to find the person responsible.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Vague threats #Danny didnt think it through

[fandomfuntimem]

"There are more of us than you think"

The ghost boy floated infront on Batman. All he wanted was to offer this kid some help. He has been deffending this town for a little over two years now with no help. So Batman just thought offering some training and other teen heros to help would be nice. But all he was met with was a cold hard stare. It wasn't a lookxof hatred, or anger, just disappointment.

"What?" He asked. For once in his life he didn't get it. What did he mean? 'There are more of us' more half ghosts like him? Multiples of him?

"What I mean Batman, is there are far more teen heros than you think. There are so many kids who were left to deffend their homes by themselves. I'm in contact with plenty of people like me. I don't need your charity work. We dont need it," Phantom took a deap breth, "so many kids had to save the world while the Justice League sat back and did nothing. Ben Tennyson has been saving the world since he was ten, a child soldier and the only effective weapon the Plumbers have. The Ninja over in Norrisville was given his powers at fourteen. Max Steel was fused with an alien and born with nuclear levels of power. The list goes on bats. Kim Possible, Jenny, Generator Rex, Zak Saturday. We all did just fine without you and your League."

Batman was speechless. That many? That many kids left to deffend their homes? Phantom obviously seemed to have contact with them, maybe they help eachother out, but still. How did the Justice League not know?

Phantom disappeared and left Batman to ponder his words alone. How many world ending events did thease kids fight? How many of them did they fight alone? How much help did each of them have? Phantom only has a niche group of allies, how small are their support groups?

He'll have to research this when he returns to the bat cave. Hopefully he can get all thease kids get the help they need. Set up Zeta Tubes in their cities, and end this awful epidemic of teen heros.

#dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #dcxdp #ben ten #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #max steel #kim possible #my life as a teenage robot #zak saturday #generator rex #prompt #writing #one shot #batman #dc comics #text post

[itaipava]

— little moments of f1 boys yearning for their best friend.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

it’s the middle of the night and you’re lying side by side in bed. you told a joke that he didn’t find that funny, but he can’t help but laugh next to you while you’re laughing so hard at your own humor. he stops laughing for a bit and looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen - because you are. moonlight enters the room, shining on your chin, lips, and cheeks, and a soft, joyful glow shines in your eyes. he feels this need to run his fingers along the contours of your face, in a light and gentle caress, but he resists. and yet he can’t help but think that maybe he loves you, with all his heart, even if you have a weird sense of humor sometimes.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

it’s a little too early in the afternoon to be drunk but here you both are. you’re sitting on the couch and he’s not certain when you got close but his breath hitches ever so slightly when you lean your head against his shoulder and he shifts a little so that he can place a hand on your back; an almost-hug. you’re saying something and your breath is warm on his skin and perhaps it’s the influence of the alcohol but he’s overcome by a burst of a certain something in his heart. he pulls you closer and when you start to move away, he doesn’t let you go and he says ‘stay.’ and you do. for a minute. then two. then time doesn’t matter anymore.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

it’s when you ask him to turn his face away so you can change your shirt; you already have a beautiful and trusting intimacy, so you trust him enough to do something like this around him. he turns around, but when he turns to you again, he takes a little of your body away while you lower your shirt, putting it on completely. his breath hitches in his throat as an insatiable desire surges within him; the desire to touch you. he wanted so much to be able to explore every little part of your body, know the story of every scar or spot, worship your body as if that were the last thing he would do in his life. he looks away quickly but that image will stay with him forever.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

it’s the middle of the night and you’re lying side by side in bed because the movie is too boring and each other’s features are so much more interesting. you talk about anything that comes to mind as you trace light patterns on the bed between the few inches between the two of you. he loves hearing you talk, he really does, but right now he can’t hear you. he is so hypnotized and obsessed with you; it’s like you’re holding the stars as he walks through the clouds. his eyes shine like never before and he feels lost when you smile as you continue talking, completely oblivious to the effect you have on him.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

sitting on the balcony, the two of you are talking. you ask him if he could go anywhere right now, where would he go? and he thinks, perhaps to a little cottage in the countryside where it’s peaceful and the days slow and sweet; or perhaps a bustling city that never sleeps, with its neon lights and people from all walks of life; or perhaps a picturesque town where culture comes alive and and every building whispers an ancient history. and he looks at you because you’re there with him everywhere he goes; lying on the grass next to him; going out for a dinner in a fancy restaurant together in the busy city; sitting in a little café in an old city… he wants to let you know but instead he jokes, his voice light, his face holding a ghost of a smirk, ‘anywhere away from you,’

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

the sun is about to set and he sits beside you on the floor. as the movie plays on his laptop, he watches it while listening to you talk about your day. at one point, he glances at you and it’s supposed to be a glance but the sunlight is on your skin and he can’t seem to look away. seeing your questioning face at him, he tears his eyes away from you, back to the screen. and the two of you watch the movie quietly while this feeling he isn’t brave enough to name swells in his heart.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

when others are superficially talking about people they find hot, he never joins in the conversation and if you’re there, he glances at you a little too often. if someone asks him to describe his ideal type, his mind goes to you immediately as he describes your qualities. in a room full of people, he always finds himself wondering where you are as his eyes look around, the smitten smile on his face when you lock eyes from across the room.

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fluff #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc headcanon #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz headcanon #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fic #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo headcanon #daniel ricciardo x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff

[multifandomimagin3s]

They have a crush on you (HC's) - Team 141 + König

Requested by Anon

Simon "Ghost" Riley

*Honestly I could write an essay on this complicated man, he's such an interesting character - but I've summed up some HC's below*

This guy is so hard to read, but at the same time he's not.

At first glance, he's a hardened man who keeps his cards close to his chest and never lets his guard down around anyone. And that's true.

Given everything he's been through in life, that amount of trauma is bound to have a long-term effect on every aspect of his life - not to mention the fact that he's probably learned to repress all of that shit for most of his life.

So I reckon that even if he did have romantic feelings towards you, it would take him a long, long time for him to even process what he's feeling - he's not stupid by any manner of means, more so he doesn't know what to do with this newfound information.

He would probably try and be mean to you - not that he was ever truly sweet on you in the first place, he couldn't let people know he had a soft spot; a weakness.

If you were part of 141, he would probably try to completely ignore you - unless he physically had to speak to you, like if you were on a mission together ((ngl I think Price probably would put the pieces together and would try to push you both together by sending you off on the same mission - fulfilling his Dad Captainly duties)).

You'd probably have known Ghost for a while before he starts to open up to you - it's superficial stuff, like maybe when his birthday is or his favourite food, little details that didn't really give any crucial information away, but you knew better than to pry as it would probably just make him shut himself away more.

He'd probably be protective of you - like if the team were out at a pub after a mission gone well, and there was a creepy guy bothering you, he would loom over you to scare the guy shitless with piercing, cold eyes.

We all know that as soon as Soap figures out that Ghost has a crush, he's going to absolutely want to take the piss out of him for it...he just needs to pick his words carefully, since he chooses life :))

It's hard to tell when or if he would actually confess his feelings to you - I can see it happening in one of two ways:

1 - You almost died on a mission, and he deeply regretted not telling you before when he thought you weren't going to make it back to base in time; he visited you every day while you were in hospital, and ended up bluntly just coming right out with how he felt because he needed you to know.

2 - Soap tells you before he can. With this scenario, I don't see Ghost blowing up in a fit of rage - it would be the silent death stare with the promise of an arse-kicking in the training room, maybe even making the Sergeant clean the bathrooms with a toothbrush for a few months for good measure. Ghost probably wouldn't even deny it, and would wait for you to come to him... and whatever happens next is a mystery ;))

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

*Ahh my fellow Scot - just to preface, Scottish slang and dialects vary across the country and I'm not 100% sure where Soap is originally from, so I'm just going to improvise and use local slang from where I'm from ~*

My guy wears his heart on his sleeve - he's naturally very flirty with you from the get-go, so it wasn't hard to figure out that he fancied you.

"Hello, Darlin', if yer wantin' a tour of the base, don't be feert* to gie me a shout ;D" [feert = afraid] [gie me a shout = ask me; gie = give].

With his flirty nature, it was difficult to discern if he was actually being serious about liking you, or if he was just flirty with everyone.

He'd probably realise that he was going about things completely wrong, and would make normal, friendly conversation to get to know you - he just wants to prove that he's a good guy and not a raging hornball :(

The longer time goes on, he starts to tell you more about his life outside of the SAS - he comes from a big family, he's the youngest sibling, his favourite colour, etc.

I can absolutely see his chest puff up a bit with pride when you compliment his skills - he disposes bombs and risks his life all the time, its his job and he doesn't expect praise other than a curt "good work" from his superiors; but from you, the tips of his ears are turning red, and a smile is practically splitting his face ~

Definitely doesn't use the excuse of training to get some time alone with you - not in a creepy way, he just likes spending one-on-one time with you.

If he really trusts you, he asks you to help trim his hair - he did do his mohawk mostly by himself but trying to do the back of his head on his own was an actual nightmare.

Likes watching the look of concentration on your face as you make sure that his hair is even - winks at you when you catch him staring~

(Y/N): There we go - a job well-done, if I do say so myself.

Johnny: *just admiring your smiling face, smitten*

Would probably ask you out then and there, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Certified Best Boy™.

Captain John Price

This guy doesn't fuck around - he's older, mature, and knows what he feels, and straight up tells you.

He'd call you into his office for a "chat" - queue you absolutely shitting yourself, being called for a chat with your superior in any circumstance automatically has you going through everything you've ever done prior to this moment to see what he could be mad about...

If you were a Private or any rank beneath him, he probably might hesitate to tell you a bit; HR really wouldn't like it but then again they wouldn't need to know... ;))

If you were a medic, nurse, doctor or civilian, he wouldn't hesitate to tell you.

The Team wouldn't know he even had a crush on you - even if you were on base, as a soldier or medic, they wouldn't have a clue.

The only time they grew suspicious was after they had all been to the pub and after a few too many drinks, one of the new recruits started talking about you and how he thought you were fit; Price's eye twitched slightly, eyeing the recruit with a poker face but with a slightly flash of anger in his eyes, cigar between his teeth.

"Bit inappropriate to speak of a comrade like that, Private, don't you think?" The Private sheepishly let out an apology.

Gaz and Soap gave each other a knowing side-eye; Soap looked to Ghost, who stared back blankly - he'd figured out that the Captain liked you ages ago, he was just waiting on everyone else catching up.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

I see him as another guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, so to speak.

I think he's the silent type though - while Johnny will flirt with you openly, regardless of where he is or who he's around, I think Kyle would be more discrete about it.

At first, it would be the little things like making you your favourite tea when he's making his own cup - sometimes he'll just make you your own, delivering it to you with a little smile.

He even offers to spar with you during training - he wouldn't go easy on you but he would be missing the usual fire that he has when training with other members of the team, he doesn't want to hurt you :((

As he gets more comfortable with you, and you with him, he absolutely loves to wind you up.

I think he'd be a genuinely funny guy, so be prepared to laugh until your sides hurt.

He'd probably express his feelings for you in a cheesy but still down-right cute way; probably shows up at your door with flowers and asks you out on a date.

((Proud Dad™ Price is just around the corner))

König

Another certified Best Boy™.

Honestly, he probably didn't speak to you at all for the longest time - not because he was intentionally trying to be rude but because if he feels like he has nothing good to say, then he just won't speak at all.

His social anxiety probably fluctuates day-to-day; one day he feels alright, can make small talk with others on base and do whatever he needs to do. But then the next day, he won't leave his room unless he has to, and when he does he's just this hulking mass of poorly concealed anxiety.

I think his anxiety would probably accidentally be projected outwards and would make him appear more intimidating, especially when all people can see are his eyes underneath his hood. Poor baby :(

He definitely knew that he had a crush on you - he's anxious in social settings, crowds, and he knows what that feels like - but with you? He gets full-on butterflies and he's scared to speak in case he says something embarrassing.

You'd most likely have to make conversation first, keeping it casual as to not scare him off - ironic, since the man is over 6ft and is built like a brick shithouse.

It would take time but he'd slowly open up bit by bit.

The first time you saw him out in the field - completely different ballgame entirely.

Who is this guy and what has he done with Konig??

He probably confesses his feelings on the way back from a mission, still high on adrenaline and confidence.

Oh he absolutely full-on panics when the adrenaline wears off and the penny finally drops...but he meant what he said. He really likes you, Maus.

#simon riley #soap mactavish #konig #kyle gaz garrick #captain price #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #soap mactavish x reader #konig x reader #gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #call of duty #cod mw2 #multifandomimagin3s

[blckbrrybasket]

ᯓ★ 𝐆𝐚𝐳 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

MDNI

SFW

- Gaz listens to Childish Gambino!

- Gaz LOVED scooby doo growing up and velma was his favorite.

- Gaz takes selfies or mirror pictures of himself but doesn’t send them to anyone. He keeps them as a confidence boost on his eyes only tab.

- Gaz LOVES reality TV. He can sit down and binge almost an entire season of some reality show. On leave when he isn’t catching up with people he’s catching up with what he missed on the bachelor.

- Gaz is an expert at finding out information and loves gossip if he isn’t the subject of it. Even if he is this man has so many comebacks stored up no one dares start a playful argument with him for fear of being ripped to shreds…except for Soap.

- Gaz likes to read and often shared recommendations with Ghost, they both like thrillers. Soap makes fun of them for it yet Gaz always shoots back with a variation of Soap not being able to read (Soap never learns and always goes to make a joke about it again)

- When Soap laughs at something immature Gaz tries to stand there like “🧍” and act mature, but the moment Soap lets out a hyena laugh/snorts or if Soap bumps into Gaz, Gaz loses it and starts laughing

- Gaz is the type of person to swat people or grab onto them when laughing really hard. He has almost peed himself when laughing.

SFW (serious)

- If Gaz has a dream where it feels like he’s falling he shoots out of bed and panics. It’s one of the bigger lasting effects of him having fallen out of two helicopters. He still gets phantom pains on his body sometimes, but the biggest one is from the trauma of his harness catching him cutting into him.

- Gaz is super in tune with his emotions and is quite open minded. He’s generally flexible, aside from plans changing last minute.

- Going off of that one of Gaz’s biggest pet peeves are plans changing at the last minute. He and Soap have had countless arguments over Soap changing stuff at the last second.

- Gaz has OCD, i’m not sure who started this headcanon but I completely agree with it. If you look at him closely you can see him swiping his hands over his pants once, twice, three times. If someone interrupts his compulsion he has to takes deep breaths before restarting. Consequently he’ll randomly go silent when talking if he has to focus on finishing a compulsion.

- Gaz is a mama’s boy and was raised how to treat women respectfully. He can go from having a great relationship with someone but the moment they something bad about women he will never like them again. He’s a proud feminist!

- Has a thing about towels. Gaz can’t use them more than once or twice because he can practically imagine all the germs that are on the fabric. Even if he is 100% clean coming out of the shower it doesn’t get rid of the thought.

NSFW

- Not vanilla, but not a huge freak.

- He’s usually up for trying something once to see if either of you like it. If not it’s no sweat off his back, at least he learned what you do and don’t like.

- There are lines he draws though. He doesn’t like anything that involve bodily fluids. Gaz prides himself on being a clean guy, but with his OCD (and kind of being a germaphobe) he can’t do it. As well as blood, to him he sees it enough on the battlefield, he wouldn’t want to see it on you. Gaz could only imagine if you were hurt.

- That’s not to say he doesn’t like a bit of man handling though. Gaz is a strong man and he knows it. His favorite thing to do is to drop you on the bed and watch you bounce back up. Trying to crawl to right yourself is a hard feat since he almost immediately pounces on you.

- He will 1000% hold your wrists above your head and while in your ear. Gaz says the dirtiest shit in bed. It comes naturally to him. He loves seeing you relax before his eyes at the sound of his voice alone.

- Wouldn’t be opposed to a threesome as long as they know you’re his partner and not theirs. He wouldn’t do it so he could have another person fawn over him. Gaz would do it to worship you. Once he’s in a relationship with you there only is you for him.

- Second easiest to get hard out of 141. If you push on his chest/shoulder/abdomen to get him to sit back down his blood will immediately flow south.

- Loves when you take what you want from him. Definitely a switch and would beg on his knees in front of you if you wanted him to.

- Gaz LOVES worshipping your body. Some degradation here and there, but ultimately he can’t help but spout off compliments when he’s buried in you.

- Will definitely send you pictures when deployed. He doesn’t do it to tease you and not let you cum, he wants you to cum to them. Gaz didn’t curate all those pictures for them to go to waste.

- Aftercare expert. Everything is tuned to you specifically. He’s had a few partners and with each he paid attention to what they liked most. Expect a warm bath for you to relax in, followed by food you love, a show on that you’ve been binging, all available on your bed so you can rest how you want to.

- His favorite parts about sex is the foreplay and aftercare. Sorry not sorry!

#call of duty x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick headcanon #gaz headcanons #call of duty x you #cod modern warfare #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #call of duty #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 #call of duty modern warfare #headcanons

[snaileer]

The Messenger is Already Dead - 4

Part 1 &2 Part 3

“Talia fell in love with Bruce Wayne!?” Danny says, whipping around to the man in question.

Everything starts piecing together like the worst Fruitloop themed puzzle ever. Danny had seen his face when Batman had removed his cowl of course, and it’d looked familiar, but that could have been anything, he never thought- Bruce Wayne!? His biological father, a man who hadn’t even known he existed, who Danny had never known, was Bruce Wayne? The richest man in America?

“You didn’t know?” Tim asks and Danny wants to scream.

He doesn’t, because that would be unassassiny-like and he’s not 100% sure it wouldn’t come out as a wail- but the desire is very much there. It feels like half of his life-view is crumbling before him.

“No, I didn’t know,” Danny starts tersely, “Talia never told us who Batman- who our father was, not until we could beat her in a fight. I… never got the chance.” He winces at the last statement, feeling the way the room goes colder at the reminder.

“Tt, clearly you would not have been able to anyways.”

Danny feels his eyes flare in frustration as he looks back to Damian, “I was a better fighter than you were, it’s not like you were finishing her challenge any earlier than I was, Damian.”

“The tutors may have favored you but it was not the tutors who bested you was it?” Damian snarled back.

“Whoa Damian-“

Memories flickered through Danny’s mind.

A fight. A snowy cliff. Red. Pain. Cold. Darkness. Green-

“Danny, you good there?”

Danny jerked his head up, not realizing he’d curled in on himself, “I’m .. fine.”

“You sure? You kind of… flickered,” Nightwing said, motioning vaguely with his hands, “Like a lightbulb.”

Danny cringed, “It’s one of the side effects of being like, this,” he motioned to himself, “I’m not exactly meant to exist on this plane of existence so sometimes I.. don’t? I guess? I don’t know, ghostly stuff is always pretty hard to explain.”

A “Hn.” Is all that comes from Bruce.

Danny practically feels their stares close in on him like walls.

“Whatever! The ghost stuff doesn’t matter!” He says, throwing his hands up and rising slightly off the ground, “What matters is that Talia is after me and is probably coming after Damian, so you need to figure out how to stop her. I didn’t come to talk, I came for protection.”

Danny takes a second, mimicking a breath and collecting himself. He couldn’t blow up like Danny, not when he had to make them see him as Danyal.

An Al-Ghul shows no weakness. An Al-Ghul shows no weakness.

“Tt. There is no reason to continue to refuse to call her Mother.”

Danny feels his eyes flare as turns back to where Damian stands, still scowling. Just like he always was.

“I’ve already told you, Damian,” He says, restraining the urge to yell that Maddie was his mom not Talia, “She was not a mother to me and I will not pretend she was when she is the reason I am being hunted.”

“She raised us,” Damian says with a scowl.

Danny feels old anger spark in him, “She trained us.”

He remembers cold nights and hard floors, cruel orders and harsher whips.

“She made us stronger,” Damian says with stone in his voice. Danny hates it, hates it because it’s exactly what they were always told. ‘It made them stronger’ but that didn’t save him so what did it matter? Damian and him never did anything but fight, they never saw each other except to fight, so much so that the first time Jazz invited him to dinner he’d thought she’d poisoned it and tried to burn down the kitchen.

Danny hates it. He hates it. He hates it. He hates it.

He forces himself to let it go. This isn’t him. Not anymore.

Danny turns away from Damian completely, fists still tightly clenched as he looks Bruce- not his father, never his father- in the eye, “Now that you have proof I am who I say, how do we stop Talia?”

Back to business. Just finish this and you can go home.

Bruce turns back to the console, “First, we need to figure out her goals, and where….”

Danny steels himself as Bruce- as Batman-continues. He could do this.

He could pretend to be a ghost of himself for however long it took.

Pretend that he really had died -stayed dead- that day with Damian.

Pretend that he remembered more about his life in the league than he did.

Pretend he wasn’t an entirely different person now.

Pretend like he still knew who he was.

Pretend like every word from Damian’s mouth didn’t pull him back to a time when he was small, too small, but never weak, and-

Yeah, he could totally absolutely do this.

Definitely.

Danny cringes as the butler tells them all that a meal is ready and everyone starts to move away from the darkness of the cave. With every step into the warmly lit lights of the manor above the cave, Danny feels his hackles rise more.

It feels exposed, making him feel like his lies are muddying just by being there, the warmth of the atmosphere, tones of family, grief, growth, loss, suffocating him as he goes deeper. Knowing that he’s part of that, he’s not going to stay, he’s lying to Damian, he’s hurting him, he’s-

Danny gets one step in the dining room before he sees the family dining table sitting there, an ornate chandelier illuminating the plates laid out at each spot, favorite foods in the middle… and two slightly elder ghosts at the head of the table with love in their eyes as they watch the family sit.

He doesn’t belong here.

Danny takes a staggering step back.

He doesn’t belong here.

Damian notices his retreat, mouth opening to speak-

He doesn’t belong here.

Danny turns tail and vanishes, throwing himself back through the ground with intangibility until he reaches the cave. From there he pauses at the entrance they’d come through, turning back instead of running.

The seconds pause is enough time for someone else to notice him.

“Running already?”

Danny lurches, nearly squeaking as he startles and his visibility flickers. He follows the voice to a figure leaning against a slightly dim doorway on the side. An illuminated locker room sits behind him.

“You’re… Jay, right? The Red Hood?”

The man hums and walks closer, “It’s Jason. You’re the new kid. Talia’s huh?”

Danny wants to shrink in on himself, his muscles tightening as he gets closer, “I’m- yeah.”

Jason scoffs, looking up the stairs like he can see straight to the dining room, “God, B and this fucking family…” He turns a critical eye to Danny without moving his head, “What’s got you fleeing so soon? It didn’t look like you were causing any sort of trouble-“

“I just-“ Danny sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I don’t belong here okay? As far as you all know, I’m not even supposed to exist anymore. I doubt you want a dead kid messing up your family, right?”

Something in Jason’s face twitches, his shoulders shifting, “Take it from me, kid… they haven’t even considered that.”

Danny tilts his head, really looking at Jason for the first time, something tickling at the back of his senses.

Jason doesn’t hesitate to meet his eyes.

He looks back through the exit tunnel, turning back a second time, “Tell ‘em I’ll be back okay? Just… not now, alright? But I’ll be back.”

And Jason nods, a silent guarantee.

Danny returns it, finally turning and flying full speed through the tunnels until he meets open air.

It feels slightly sticky compared to the coolness of the cave, but Danny simply looks around to get his bearings before turning into the distance with determination.

He doesn’t stop until he sees the shine of a golden globe pass under him. He enters the hotel straight through the walls of the elevator shaft, dropping his ghost from the second he hits carpeted halls.

And then he pauses…

Which room were they in again?

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long, as one of the doors gets thrown open moments later by the lumbering figure which can only be his dad.

“Ghost!” Dad says as he bends through the doorway, ghost-finder in his hands as he looks around until finally spotting Danny, “Danno! You’re back!”

The incessant droning of the ghost-finder is overshadowed as Danny struggles to breath around his Dad’s hug, “He..y.., Da..d” He wheezes.

He sees Jazz come bursting out of the hotel room next. She gives him a hard look before they’re both swept into Dad’s arms and practically carried back into the room.

His mom is there, tinkering on a tool Danny himself had helped design a few weeks ago.

His dad, of course, goes straight for the fudge in the mini fridge. Danny steals the remote from Jazz and plops himself down on the bed free of machine scraps.

Even as he has to keep Jazz from smothering him with a hotel pillow, Danny smiles. He feels his shoulders loosen for the first time all night.

This. This is where he belongs.

—

The demon brat’s twin was… something. They hadn’t really had the time to start forming real expectations, but most of them didn’t expect.. a ghost.

Tim can see the way Bruce’s eyes linger on the wafts of snowy hair, aching guilt lining his body whenever Danny’s back is turned even just slightly.

It doesn’t go away as they all file up to a late dinner. By Alfred’s order, they all go, pair by pair trickling up to the dining room like the most awkward yellow brick road ever.

Somewhere in the stilted chaos, Jason manages to slip out from the group, probably the first time he’s left the manor without fighting with Bruce in months.

Of course that hardly matters when the moment they step into the dining room, Danny freezes by the door, flickering again.

Tim watches as his eyes jump across them all, the table, the room, the chairs- Danny steps back and-

Vanishes.

Damian is lurching towards the door, “Danyal!”

But it’s empty. All of them had felt his presence leave, even if they hadn’t realized that’s what it was, suddenly the room is a few degrees warmer and just a bit emptier than before.

Tim looks to Bruce.

They don’t know what that was, why Danny left. Was he just scared? Or could something have happened to him? They didn’t know enough about ghosts, and what they did know said they weren’t very strong. Boston Brand couldn’t interact with the physical world without possessing someone- Danny had already said he wasn’t meant to exist on this plane, had he run out of strength?

Dick approaches Damian still brooding in the doorway, setting a hand on his shoulder- Damian throws it off immediately.

“I am fine,” he snaps, “Danyal is a coward.”

Bruce stands, “Damian, don’t say that-“

“Why shouldn’t I!? What does he have to fear!? He ran away like a coward and left me behind!”

Silence settles in the room.

Tim decides to break it, “Any chance you’re not just talking about him not staying for dinner?”

A knife pierces the wall behind him.

“I will end you, Drake.”

“Master Damian! I do not have enough portraits to continue covering holes in the paneling!” Alfred scolds, standing at the doorway.

Damian stops, glaring at them all before turning to Alfred, “I’ll take my dinner in my room please, Pennyworth.” Then he turns on his heel and strides from the room. It is too fast to be anything but fleeing.

Steph slumps into the chair beside Tim, “Boys are weird.”

Tim scowls, “Oi.”

“I stand by my statement.”

Tags:

@craftgremlin @karlyanalora @theeclecticenquirer @undead-essence @mattybook1987-blog @emergentpanda-blog @nedwec @jotaroslooseeyebrowhair @serasvictoria02 @itsloveleo @yjfk @mygood-bitch99 @wolfjackle @xysidhequeen @seraphinedemort @catnek-writing-things @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @tinybrie @raginblastocyst @cyber-geist @icedbluesoul @rosesandsailboats @craftybookworms @dragonimpal67 @capricedshusara @ghostreblogging @treepainting @valiantsuitcaseskellington

Also btw, I’ve added this to my Drabble/oneshot collection on Ao3. It’s under my same Username(snaileer) with work name ‘Things That Could Exist’

Hope you enjoyed!

#batman #danny phantom #batfam #danny fenton #dc #danny phantom crossover #batman and robin #young justice #bruce wayne #tim drake #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #league of assassins #dp x dc #dpxdc #dick Grayson #Talia al Ghul

[thylaseraph]

actually there shouldve been an episode in early s15 where dean and cas catch the same case and they have to grudgingly work together because it’s a tough hunt and dean doesn’t wanna disturb saileen and him and cas are just trying to keep their space (insert personal space callback). like they get separate motel rooms but one night they have to collab on some research so they’re up late in cas’ room. dean is trying hard not to be curious about why his bed is unmade but he sucks at not being a nosy prick so he says “hey [nickname omitted for effect] what’s up with you lately. you sleepin or something?”

cas just keeps his head down and says “or something.” and dean is still brooding because cas is brooding and he doesn’t think that’s fair really, but he’s still dean so his brain immediately jumps to cas is fucking someone!!!! so he says “what, like you’re sleeping with someone?” and cas recognizes that dean is not going to drop this until he gets a real answer so he just gives in and says “no. i sleep sometimes. don’t worry about it.” but he says it in a vicious way to let us know that he doesn’t think dean is actually gonna worry about it because dean is an asshole.

and dean picks up on that and the insinuation that he’s like, mean or something makes him angrier so he snaps “are you an angel or what?” and cas says “or what.” and dean’s like “hey you have to tell me if your batteries are drained or not coz i need to know if you’re gonna have my back if we get into a tight spot” and cas says, in the tone of i-can’t-believe-this-shit-is-happening-i-wish-i-was-dead, “i always have your back.” to which dean scoffs “oh yeah? seems like it. you have my back all the way from fucking wyoming huh.”

and by now neither of them are actually concentrating on research. cas is doing meditative breaths in front of his laptop and dean is still talking, “you’re driving sam nuts you know you just left without a fuckin goodbye—” “i said goodbye.” “—and i know he’s been blowing up your phone and you can’t just fuckin ghost him, you dick” yadda yadda and finally cas gets fed up and he stands so quick his chair flies back and dean is like, great, we’ll fight, at least this is something i understand, maladaptive as shit you know, but he starts to sweat when cas’ eyes start glowing and the overheads burst. then cas goes for his fucked up wings as a show of power but. his grace does that flickering thing and he tires out immediately and even stumbles bc his batteries ARE shorting.

and dean is angry but he’s still dean so he’s at cas’ side in a second to hold him steady sayin “you okay? stay with me man” and cas is just. 1) pissed at dean 2) pissed at himself 3) enjoying the contact but also pissed about that. dean guides him over to the bed but cas is stubborn so he stays standing and rubbing at his temples because apparently doing normal angel shit gives him headaches now and isn’t that fantastic. he looks so tired and miserable that dean forgets to be mad for a second and he just murmurs “that bad, huh?” and cas mutters “yeah.”

dean says, “and you’re out there by yourself,” in the tone of voice that sounds like he’s angry, but underneath it he’s scared, but underneath that he’s actually angry. cas says “it’s not like i want this,” in the tone of voice that sounds like he’s lonely, but underneath it he really really doesn’t want to be alone.

“then what do you want?” dean asks. “what do you want from me, then?”

cas is just studying his face, miserable and all the lines in his face clearer than ever, looking like half of him can’t take the sight of dean’s face which is a winchester face which is a hunter’s face which is a killer’s face which dean never really liked looking at himself. and really the only move is to lean forward so close that cas can’t see his face. and then of course from there it’s obvious enough that he has to close the gap and crush their mouths together in the most desperate sloppy feverish frightened teethclashing please-don’t-leave-me kiss he’s ever had in his long long history of them. because if nothing is real he might as well give this a whirl. because even if chuck is the one who made dean fall in love with cas, it still feels fucking great to kiss him. because dean can’t help himself. he was written this way.

so they kiss. for a few seconds. until cas stops, still against dean’s frantic mouth. and then he pulls back. he still looks miserable, which is worse to see when he can actually meet dean’s eyes. “you’re still angry,” he says. “at me.”

dean almost chokes. “i don’t want to be,” he says. reaching.

cas says, “i wish that were enough, but i—.” and his mouth trembles a little. and dean thought he was dead inside but he can feel another piece of him dying right now. and it hurts to look at cas’ face knowing that he doesn’t want him, that he isn’t enough.

“got it,” dean says. but he doesn’t get it yet. and the kicker is he has to leave cas’ room and go sit alone on the other side of the wall. this is symbolic because even though the divorce ended with cas leaving dean it was very clear that dean is the one who emotionally left cas. it’s a great callback but dean doesn’t even recognize it because he’s neck-deep in derealization. it’ll all click for him in 15x18 though <3

#repost from my old blog #tóxicos….. #destiel #mine

[rosedom]

"you have invited AETHER to play . . . forgive me, daddy, for i have sinned

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!male!reader, sub!ftm!aether, daddy kink, kink discovery, cunnilingus, praise, rather abrupt ending .

A/N : god. i love him. also, slightly adjusted format c;

"is that correct, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to confirm."

"Aw, honey," you coo, "you're so hard, huh?" 

Aether whimpers, your name broken across a delicate gasp. The muscles of his kiss-bitten thighs jump in a barely-restrained attempt at closing them; he would have succeeded, too, had you not been prostrate between his legs. His cock twitches, an engorged red thanks to your earlier ministrations.

"What izzit?" Your breath ghosts across his cunt, leaving him to petulantly whine at you. 

"Touch me, please."

You grin, squeezing his thighs kindly, before unkindly saying, "I am touching you." He squirms. 

"Please, I-I—" he stumbles over his words before taking a deep breath. His face turns a fiery red as he murmurs, "Blow me?" 

Your breath leaves you in a low whistle. "Attaboy."

Then, with utmost care, you bring your tongue down the remaining inch and touch it to his cock. His thighs jump and try to close, again, but—what with you both lying between them and holding them open—he does not succeed. He whines, high and reedy, "Daddy."

You pause. Oh.

Aether squirms beneath you, confused at the cease of your tongue's gentle movements. It's almost as if he didn't realize, then—

"Daddy?" he repeats, and, oh, again. He meant it, truly.

All you can do is sit there, your tongue motionless on Aether's cunt, and stare up at him. He's squirming, now, trying to press up onto your tongue, your mouth, your lips parted for him—all without success. 

However, it's not until his eyes open to finally meet yours that reality seems to set in for both of you. 

Aether's eyes widen—almost comically, really—and he jerks back from you. He ends up slamming his head into the bed's headrest. He winces, and you're on him immediately—cupping the back of his skull and rubbing tenderly. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, brows drawn in, arousal still simmering low in your belly. He nods.

"I'm sorry, I didn't—I, really, I—" and there he goes, stumbling over his words. He's never been good with words; he has always preferred body language. And that's fine! But not in bed. It's a rule you established early on because while you are fluent in Aether's body language, you were raised to never, ever take anything but a verbal yes, yeah, please, or whatever the hell else as consent.

That negotiation extends into kink, too; anything but an enthusiastic yes is an absolute no.

. . . But, that didn't sound like an absolute no, either. Rather, it sounded more like a please hidden beneath some notion of shame—which is exactly what you don't want your sun to feel, especially not when he's in bed with you.

"Sunshine," you murmur. Your hands slide to his chubby cheeks, cupping his ruddy face. "Did—do you, I mean, want to . . . call me that?" 

Aether's breath has effectively stopped. 

"Please, Aether."

His golden eyes crack open to meet yours, but for only a brief moment, there and gone. however, they quickly flitter away; he adamantly looks, instead, at the strand of loose hair that you can feel tickling your ear. "Yeah?" He closes his eyes again, trying desperately to let the ground swallow him whole.

Smiling softly, you lean forward and press a featherlight kiss against his forehead, his nose, and the apple of each cheek. "Aether," you repeat, just to feel the way his name rolls off your tongue, "do you want to call me daddy?"

That was the hook.

Aether opens his eyes again, irises flicking side to side. The blush on his cheeks has spread down his naked chest. 

Line.

"I-I—," he coughs. He scrunches his face before burrowing into the crook of your neck. Against your bare skin, his cheeks leave a warm brand. 

"Yeah, I do. I wanna." 

And sinker. 

"Oh, honey," you murmur, leaning in to kiss him soundly. "See? That wasn't so bad, now was it?"

Aether cringes, and you feel his mouth drop open—likely to retort with something silly, like, "Yes, it was horrible," or, "Awful, I want the ground to swallow me up—", so you naturally dip down and curl your tongue into his still-wet cunt. (You don't think he's been wetter.) He makes a quiet, pitiful sound against you before he melts back into the bed. 

"Daddy's here.”

yes . . . am working on the requests . . . yes, did get sidetracked by aether . . . baizhu and kaeya (same post, separate thoughts) are coming next (⁠っ⁠˘⁠з⁠(⁠˘⁠⌣⁠˘⁠ ⁠)

7 FEB. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#i love this dude #dom reader #male reader #you're daddy (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠） #sub aether #aether smut #aether x reader #aether genshin impact #genshin smut #sub genshin #trans smut #that tongue does more than eat

[gardenofnoah]

baby was born all wrong

remember this drabble?? yeah....

wc: 2.7k

tags: MDNI, smut, brat tamer bkg, gn reader, afab body parts named, pet names (“baby”, “sweetheart”), oral (reader receiving), fingering, toy use, dubcon just to be safe (but not really)

you don’t know why you’re like this. truly, you’d be better if you could.

most days you are. with a little thought behind it, you can be sweet. tender, even. receptive to love and care and able to give it right back.

but there are some days when you wake up and you just… can’t. there’s a synapse that’s short-circuited, or something, and all you know how to do is bare your teeth and snap them at every soft touch that comes too close. you try to squash the feeling down and it makes it worse. you just want to hurt. you want to destroy. you want to get it back threefold.

today is one of those days.

you’re sure katsuki can tell. it’s not like you’re hiding it, with the way you snap at him when he comes up behind you in the kitchen as you’re making tea.

“get off of me,” you grumble, not turning to look at him. you swear you feel the ghost of a smile on his lips against your shoulder before he retreats without a response. you feel the anger fizzle in your gut and try to return to the task at hand.

the day goes on similarly—snapping at him for every wrong movement, and getting more irritated when his only reaction is a small, knowing smile. it’s infuriating—you don’t understand why the ever-feared and perpetually combative Dynamight is tolerating the way you’re acting.

“what is wrong with you?” you ask through your exasperation, throwing your hands up. he only raises an eyebrow at you from his spot on the couch. the anger creeps farther up your neck and you feel its burn. “why aren’t you saying anything?”

that irritating smile is back on his face. “because you want me to.”

you scowl at him, feeling your rage mix with something like shame. at once you understand—he only considers you to be a nuisance. something that can be ignored.

it only spurs you on.

“oh, i apologize. i should not have assumed that my partner was man enough to stand up for himself.”

the smirk on his face tells you that he’s amused—and unwilling to take the bait. it makes you feel fucking crazy—you just want him to get in your face and scream like you know he can. it would feel so much better than whatever this is—this one sided battle that you’ve created and are trying so hard to win.

you stomp into the kitchen, grumbling to yourself, making sure it’s loud enough for him to hear. you get so wrapped up in slamming the cupboards that you don’t hear him approach until his full weight is pressed against your back. he reaches for the countertop with both hands, effectively trapping you against it.

“you’re gonna piss off the neighbors with all your noise.”

“get the fuck off me, katsuki,” you snap, thrashing against his hold. he doesn’t budge. your teeth grind together painfully. he hums, light and amused.

“why? my baby clearly wants attention.”

“i don’t want anything from you—”

he only chuckles, pressing you further into the counter. you feel him now—rock hard against your backside. your lips curl back into a snarl.

“sure ya do,” he says, voice low in your ear, “you’ve been beggin’ for it all day. that’s what this is, right? why you’ve been mouthin’ off to me like you are? just tell me what you need, sweetheart.”

you feel like an animal caught in a trap. your eyes dart around for a space you can squeeze out of, but his massive frame is everywhere around you. you try to squeeze under his arm to get away from him, but his hips press you forward again, pushing until you’re bent over the counter. you try to stand up, but you feel the heat of his palm wrap around the nape of your neck, keeping you still with your chest pressed to the wood.

at his display of strength, your resolve falters—you feel your edges start to dull and soften and you want to relax in his hold—but you fight to keep up your petulance, even if it’s only for show now.

“i don’t fuck pathetic men,” you spit, only it’s not nearly as harsh as you want it to sound.

katsuki snorts behind you. you feel the weight of him across your back when he leans over you.

“that’s fine,” you can hear the grin on his lips as they brush the space under your ear, “i don’t fuck mouthy little brats.”

he keeps his hand around your neck as he stands again, keeping you pinned as his other hand roams down your body. you feel it slip under the waist band of your pants, and then under the hem of your underwear.

“i just fucking told you—“

“weird,” he cuts you off, his tone nothing but smug, “you’re soaking wet.”

you can feel the way your body betrays you as he plays with you—his fingertips slip through your folds freely and you press your forehead into the counter, mentally willing yourself not to react. you feel him spread you open with his first and third finger, and the calloused tip of his middle brushes over your clit softly, sending hot bolts of electricity up your spine. he draws lazy circles over the aching bud with barely there pressure and you can’t stop the whine that rumbles through you.

“i think you’re a liar,” his voice is deep and dangerous in your ear and you shudder underneath him. you can practically hear how it strokes his ego, but you find yourself caring less and less with every passing second. “i think you do this because you want me t’be rough with you.”

he doesn’t let you respond—he just presses down a little harder and adds another finger as he strokes you, letting your clit glide snugly between his first and middle fingers with every pass. you bite down on your forearm to keep from moaning. you can feel yourself soaking his hand and ruining your underwear. the knowledge of that has your hips kicking up into his palm, searching for more pressure, more friction. he clicks his tongue at you, pulling his hand out of your pants.

you squeeze your eyes shut, biting down on the plea that threatens to shatter the last bit of your facade. the only part of you that still feels the need to keep it up is your pride.

“i would’ve ruined you if you’d asked me to,” he murmurs, voice laced with something pitying and a little mean, “but this ain’t the way you ask.”

his still soiled fingers reach to cup your sex through your pants, and you feel filthy in a way that has you panting, breath leaving condensation on the cool wood top. he tightens his grip around your neck for only a fleeting, delicious second and then everything stops. he pulls away from you, and you feel too cold and boneless, still bent over the counter.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he asks, all patronizing as he watches behind you, “thought you didn’t fuck pathetic men.”

your eyes burn. all of your anger is gone—replaced with white hot embarrassment and an all encompassing need.

“katsuki,” you sniffle, squeezing your eyes shut tight, “please, i need you—“

“now you need me?” he asks softly, closer now. you feel his fingertips ghost up your spine and you shudder. “thought you didn’t want anything from me.”

the way he’s too gentle feels violent somehow. tears well up in your eyes and you shake your head as best you can.

“i’m sorry,” you say, breath quickening with equal parts lust, shame, and a little panic at the thought that he may really not touch you, “didn’t mean it, kat, m’sorry—”

“shh,” his finger brush over the nape of your neck to tangle in your hair, scratching lightly at the base of your scalp. you shake like a leaf underneath him. “i know baby. y’just don’t know how to ask, hm?”

you can only whine, leaning into his touch. if the counter wasn’t bearing half your weight, you think you would’ve sunk to the floor by now. your pride has left you completely, and in such a short time—you feel such whiplash at the way katsuki holds so much power over you when you were sure you possessed all of it only a minute ago.

you know you have already given all of it to him to keep safe. even when you don’t want him to.

“tell me what you want, baby,” he mumurs, leaning down to press gentle kisses to the back of your neck.

“want you to hurt me,” you sniffle. you know you have to look pitiful. katsuki chuckles behind you.

“that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

you bite down on a retort, choosing to remain pliant.

“can’t have you mouthing off to me though,” he says, lips brushing your skin, “so m’not doing that.”

you immediately protest, twisting underneath him to look at him. his hand tightens in your hair, immobilizing you.

“you’re not goin’ anywhere,” he warns. “you’re gonna be good and take what i give you.”

dread seeps across your nerves but you stay still when he releases your hair. he presses gentle kisses down the length of your spine through your shirt. you feel them like they’re bruises sucked into the skin.

his fingers hook into your waistband and tug down, taking your pants and underwear with them. you shiver at the exposure, but comply when he prompts you to spread your legs wider.

“pretty little thing,” he murmurs, brushing the back of a knuckle over your soaked folds. “s’a shame that mouth is so mean.”

“m’sorry kat,” you babble, tears burning your eyes again at his teasing and your shame, “m’ sorry, m’sorry—”

you nearly come out of your skin when he sinks to his knees and you feel the wet heat of his tongue slide over your sex. it’s too soft and he knows it—his hands reach up to hold your hips from bucking backwards as he suckles on your clit.

you know better than to ask for anything more. you drop your forehead to your arms and let the tears flow as he explores to his content. you whimper when you feel the prod of his tongue inside you.

he lets out a groan as you squeeze around him. you feel the tip of the muscle explore the wet softness of your walls and fight to keep yourself from sinking down and taking it deeper.

he leaves you empty and aching as his tongue drags back up to your clit. he teases it with alternating, soft kitten licks and gentle, pulsating sucks until it’s swollen and twitching in time with the rapid flutter of your heart.

“my poor baby,” he coos in between sloppy kisses to the aching nub, “looks like it hurts.”

you let out a broken sob as he pulls it between his lips again, flicking his tongue over the tip. you nearly scream when you feel him tease your swollen heat with the tip of his finger.

he sinks in to the first knuckle, letting out a curse at the way you suck him in. he pulls away from your clit to watch your body swallow what he gives it.

“p-please” you gasp, half out of your mind with need, “your mouth, baby, please—“

“no,” he breathes through a grin, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh, “brats don’t get to cum.”

you sob out another string of apologies as he sinks inside you to the hilt. his thick finger fills you up but not enough.

“that’s it,” he groans when you clamp down on him, “keep suckin’ me back in.”

he doesn’t fuck you with any particular rhythm or force, and it leaves you a slurring, crying mess at his mercy, draped over the counter top. you feel your slick roll down your thighs in beaded drops. if he only fucked you a little harder, and just a little faster—

he pulls his finger from you, and you immediately protest, legs nearly buckling as you turn to him.

“shh,” he whispers again, gathering you in his arms and bending down to kiss the corner of your mouth, “you’re okay baby.”

his hands cradle your face and he brushes your tears from your cheeks with both thumbs, smiling at you softly. it brings them back immediately.

“katsuki,” you croak, grabbing at his shirt with both hands, “please.”

he hums softly, bringing you into his chest. “you gonna be good for me?”

you nod emphatically, making him chuckle.

“good. want you to make yourself cum.”

your eyes go wide and you look up at him, already shaking your head. you need him—you need—

“hey,” he calls to you gently, redirecting your spiral, “you make yourself cum now and i’ll be as rough as y’want me to be tomorrow. anythin’ you need.”

you shiver in his arms, already anticipating his promise. after a moment, you shakily agree, albeit with a little trepidation.

“there ya go,” he coos, pressing a warm kiss to your temple. “go pick a toy and get in bed.”

less than 5 minutes later you find yourself under the scrutiny of his gaze, legs spread wide as you lay on your belly with your favorite suction toy pulsing away on your clit. you feel the bed dip as he crawls over you, hovering on all fours in the spaces left by your own limbs. he bends down to nip at the junction between your shoulder and neck. you let out a whimper when his tongue laves over the bite.

you grind your hips down into the mattress, pushing the toy harder into your clit. you feel a little drop of arousal roll from your sloppy little hole to where the toy is, making it slick.

you reach back to sink your own fingers inside you, but you can’t reach deep enough for it to feel good with the toy in the way. you whine in frustration, pressing down harder onto the source of the pulsating pressure.

“what’s the matter baby?” katsuki coos, smoothing a warm palm over the curve of your ass, “can’t reach?”

you sniff, shaking your head pitifully against the sheets. “can’t do it kat.”

he tuts at you, rubbing the inside of your thigh soothingly. “guess i can help ya a little.”

your mouth drops open when you feel two thick fingers slip slowly inside you. he fills you to the hilt and you whine when he doesn’t move.

“you gotta do the rest, sweetheart,” he chuckles.

you whine in protest but do what he says, snapping your hips in a strange and disjointed semi circle to chase the dual simulation. he murmurs soft praises as you fuck yourself on his fingers, squeezing him tightly with every pulse around your sensitive clit.

“that’s it baby,” he praises, “you’re right there, huh? can feel you squeezin’ me.”

“please, please—” you babble, trembling all over, just out of reach of your release, “m’gonna cum, i promise—“

“such a sweet little thing. s’all you needed, hm? just needed to fuck the brat outta ya?”

you nod pitifully, so so close.

“go ahead then, baby. be good a cum all over my fingers.”

you sink down on them at an angle that sends his fingertips right where you need them and it sends you over the edge. you press your face into the pillow, crying out as you tremble with every wave of release that washes over you. he keeps you plugged up with his fingers, letting out a low curse as you clamp down on him. the suction of the toy prolongs your high, fluttering against your clit until it hurts. you whine and reach down to switch off the toy.

katsuki reaches up to smooth his palm over the small of your back, pulling his fingers from you slowly and making you shiver. he grabs the toy from underneath you and leans over to set it on the nightstand. crawling back up to you, he lays on his side and pulls you into his chest.

“i’m sorry i was mean,” you whisper, feeling more vulnerable now. the shame settles over you like a thick blanket and it feels suffocating.

his hand smooths over your hair, cradling the back of your head. you feel the chuckle rumble in his chest.

“did y’wake up wrong or what?”

you press your face further into his chest. “think so.”

he leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “s’alright baby. i like you mean.”

#don’t look at me <3 #bakugou katsuki #bakugou fluff #bakugou smut #mha smut #mha x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou fic #fic: baby was born all wrong

[nerdpoe]

story prompt: children of villains au

Jack and Maddie Fenton, after college and prior to having their first child, were highly-effective super villains. Mad scientists the likes of which Luthor could only dream of achieving.

They were so fucking frightening that this is what drove Vlad away. He wasn't biding his time, he was goddamn hiding from his ex-best friends so that they wouldn't dissect him.

Shit man, they'd nearly done it to him when he'd been fully human. If they found out he'd become part of their obsession?

So yeah Vlad went to ground.

No financial backing, no morals, only science. Everything was a science experiment, full stop.

Then they had a daughter, and like...huh. This. This wasn't an experiment. This was perfection? A mix of both Jack and Maddie, in one tiny perfect body. She was adorable.

And the government, knowing that if these crackpots were dangerous before, holy fuck they'd be unstoppable now cuz protective parent mode go, offers them a deal.

Stop attacking people, stop experimenting on people, stop being villains, make weapons for the government. Do this, and the government will set them up in a house, let them continue experiments that do not infringe on human rights, and the kid gets a full ride scholarship to whatever college she wants, however many times she wants to go.

The Fentons took it; shit man a free scholarship is nothing to laugh at, they'd been to college. That debt was the driving force to them turning to villainy in the first place.

By the time they had Danny they'd fully acclimatized to being strange, ghost-obsessed parents.

The accident happens, Jack and Maddie don't know, shit goes down, and the GIW find out before they do. Then Danny goes missing, after his last known location was being shot down by the GIW.

Now Jack and Maddie, their kids are perfect. Small, cute perfect little kids. Theirs and theirs alone. If one of them managed to become half of the thing they were obsessing over, then they would learn to live with that, because he was their son.

The GIW had hurt their son.

So they made sure Jazzy-pants was secure, protected, and safe; and then proceeded to get all of their old super-villain gear back, decimate the GIW, and commit multiple war crimes.

The government, thinking that they've gone back for no reason, freaks and calls the Justice League. The Justice League who had never had to fight the Fentons, as they'd retired just before the League formation. The older heroes that had fought them are either dead or in retirement.

They know Superman's weakness, they know how to deal with Flash, they can even handle Wonder Woman. Whatever hero the Justice League throws at them, they know exactly what to do.

They are Batman levels of insanely prepared, but with the insanity to be just unpredictable enough that Batman can't tell his friends how to work around the Fenton's plans.

Meanwhile, Jack and Maddie have managed to find out that their baby boy is not being held by the GIW. In fact, it looks like he's gone to ground, smart boy that he is.

They track him to his last known location.

Gotham.

In Gotham, Jason snaps at the street kid he'd taken in to hold the fuck still, since stitches were hard. Danny tries, but stitches feel weird and he's ticklish.

In Wayne Manor, Jazz stares down Bruce Wayne; conclusive evidence in front of her to prove he is Batman. She demands he finds her brother before her parents tear the world apart.

In the Bat Cave, Sam stares down Damian, and Tucker gets stared down by Alfred. They just wanted to find their friend, and what better way than a tracker on the BatMobile?

#dcxdp #dpxdc #story prompt #phanfic

[dcxdpdabbles]

Ghost king danny goes on a reincarnation vacation to the dc universe by ClockWork, he ends up as a mortician/coroner and chats up the dead and is super creepy and has to go to Arkham to claim a body there (idk how-) and ends up freaking out the prisoners but also makes some friends and is just all around having a good time and Batman is concerned why this guy just feels weird and why Jason likes him enough to call him a friend

"This is Daniel Fenton." Bruce starts clicking the button on his wrist computer so an image of a young man in his early twenties appears on the hologram. "He is the mortician working at Gotham Funeral Home and Crematorium. Recently, he has been the talk of the underworld for his actions in Arkham."

"Actions?" Tim asks, reading over the files that Bruce had downloaded into their own wrist computers. He pauses at the old-school photo of Daniel Fenton smiling shyly at the camera. Two rows below him is Jason's equally bashful smile when he was fourteen.

Huh.

"A patient was found dead in her room. Daniel went over to claim the body, but while there, he made a few of the inmates uncomfortable." Bruce pulls up a security camera footage of Fenton strolling down the hall, pushing the cart with the body covered by a white sheet.

The way his lips are shaped tells the Bats he whistles even if there is no sound.

It looks normal- even if he seems just a tad too cheerful for picking up a dead person- until he passes by Two-Face's room. The man flipped his quarter and then started shouting at Fenton.

They couldn't make out his words, but whatever the mortician said had Two-face laughing so hard he fell to the ground.

Then, the camera glitched as if there were some kind of interference. They watched it clear up with Fenton walking away and Two-Face sitting on the ground, staring at a wall with a blank expression.

"What happened?" Dick asks.

"It's unclear what Fenton did to him, but Harvey has been unresponsive since. This was three days ago."

"Shit," Steph swears, which pretty much sums up everyone's thoughts.

"Yeah, Danny has that effect on people," Jason speaks up, shrugging his shoulder at the looks he receives. "What? Danny has always been weird, but I doubt he is dangerous."

"You are acquainted with Fenton?" Damian asks, and Jason shrugs again.

"We were in the same graduating class. I spoke to him more after I died and came back, but I wouldn't meet up with him for a drink or anything."

"You don't drink."

"Exactly, Timbos."

Bruce clears his throat. "In any case, I want you all to keep an eye on him."

"B, seriously, the guy is harmless. He cried the other day over a book character's death-"

"How would you know that?" Cass cuts Jason off, a teasing smile on her face even though her eyes are narrowed with suspicion.

"We're in the same book club. Not another word." Jason grunts.

Dick, who has been staring at the class photo that Tim has seen, snaps his figures. "I know him! He's the weird kid who told people he was the reincarnation of the Ghost King on vacation! Claimed he was a powerful afterlife entity. Didn't you get caught with him behind the bleachers, Jason-"

"Shut it Dickface!" Jason screeches face a bright red suddenly. " That was one time, and I was fourteen!"

Bruce's frown is suddenly more profound. "I had forgotten about that particular detention. Jason, are you compromised for this mission?"

"What!? I am not!" The second oldest yelled, balling his hands "In fact, I bet I could get Danny to tell me what he did!"

"Good. Go get that done." Dick waves his hand at him in a dismissive motion. "Don't come back without the little crazy mortician's number."

Tim smiles as Jason explodes, but his eyes never leave Heavy Dent's image on the security camera. There is something about the way his eyes are hazy that set bells off in his head.

He is sure he sees flashes of green on Dent's pupils. He saw similar flashes in a file inside the League of Assassins while searching for Bruce.

It was the warning of ghosts.

Was Fenton's teenage lies not so fatuous after all? He'll have to investigate.

Master Post Link

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #The Ghost King's Fibs #Basically Danny is on vacy as a reincarnation #and told EVERYONE about it but no one believed him #Jason did in fact get caught kissing Danny behind the blechers #Dead on Main #Tim's sharp mind seeing the dots that others need to connect #Is Danny dangerous? #Who knows?

[ohbo-ohno]

don't leave me locked in your heart (chap 1) - ghost x soap x reader

summary: Soap sees you dancing at a bar and decides you'd make the perfect anniversary present for Ghost, so he tempts you into going home with him one night and simply… doesn't let you leave in the morning.

word count: 11.9k

cw: NONCON!!!! dark!!! noncon somnophilia, kidnapping, noncon gags and bondage, rough sex, oral sex, the sex goes from consensual to dubcon to noncon, first chapter is almost entirely soap/reader

chapter 2/2 here, read on ao3, see the pinterest board

You've been dancing with the same man for the last three drinks. You haven't seen his face yet - you're a bit scared to turn around at this point, having built him up in your head so much that you're expecting no less than a modern Adonis - but his hands are rough and confident, and he certainly knows how to move his hips against yours. He's got some sort of sixth sense for how to drive you the most insane to the beat of every song, and you can only hope you have the same effect on him (which if the hardness against the small of your back is anything to go by, you do).

Every time you dip off the dance floor for another drink, he's right there waiting when you get back. You never see him, can't figure out which of the writhing bodies he must be, but within less than a minute of being back with your refill his hands are running up your hips again.

You might not know it was the same man if he didn't have the most distinct scent you've ever smelt on someone. Cigarette smoke, and a clashing air of what has got to be two separate colognes - wood and pine but also lemon and... you want to say basil. Regardless, it's distinct and strong, even in the packed crowd. All he has to do is tuck you into him long enough for you to inhale once and you know your partner's back.

You figure you'll see if he wants to go home with you. In a few more songs.

For now, you keep dancing. Hips grinding into his along with the heavy bass of the music, free hand following both of his as they track up your stomach, rolling your face into his cheek where his chin is hooked over your shoulder, eyes shut as you lose yourself in the movement and the music.

At the end of the song you quickly down the rest of your drink, eager to have both hands free, and pass it off onto the tray of some poor waiter who's decided to cut through the crowd instead of going around.

The man behind you straightens again as the song changes, his movements slowing to match the new tempo, chin grazing the back of your head now (and oh��the idea of how big he must be sends a shiver up your spine).

You place your hands on the outside of his thighs, feel the rough denim tight around his muscular legs and dig your nails in. His chest rumbles against your back and his next grind is harsher, so you drag your nails up, up, up, stroking his sides, his shoulders, and finally wrapping your hands around the back of his neck.

He bends down a bit, for your sake, and tucks his face into your neck. You feel lips moving over the column of your throat, tongue and teeth skimming the sensitive skin for just a second.

You hum, the buzz settled over your brain making everything feel so lush and good and explore with your hands for a bit. You don't have much range of motion, but through just a bit of searching you figure out he's got a mohawk, one just grown out enough for you to wrap your fingers in and pull. Which, of course, you do.

Your mystery man lets out a groan, one that you can't hear but can feel as he bites down and shakes his head, just a bit. The animalistic movement tugs a high whine out of your chest, and the whole process repeats again - each tug harsher, each bite stronger. You worry you'll soak right through your panties at the rate the two of you are going.

Two songs later, your partner growing increasingly touchy as you stroke his hair and neck, you're spun around suddenly. You stumble a bit, teetering on your sky high heels, but his arms grip just beneath your ribs to steady you. You glance up sharply, eyes narrowing.

The first thing you see is a smirk.

He's handsome, your partner. Certainly no Adonis - he's far too... rough around the edges for that - but an undeniably good looking man. His mohawk is a deep brown, matching scruff on his cheeks (not enough to be a beard but enough to scratch against your skin), dark blue eyes that crinkle at the edges, thick and dark eyebrows, a strong jaw and a strong nose. All handsome pieces that fit into a puzzle just slightly off on this man, like a grid moved one unit to the left. His nose has a bump on it that you can only assume is from being broken one too many times, a scar bisects the edge of his left eyebrow and stretches almost to his eye, and his eyes are dark with an unmistakable hunger where they bore into yours.

He's just your type.

You let yourself go a little loose, lean more of your weight into his hands and rest yours against his pecs. Your nails dig in just a bit, to see if there's any give. There isn't much - he must be muscular under the tight black shirt he's wearing. You glance down quickly, to see if maybe you can get a peek at his physique, and sure enough his shirt rides up just enough that you can see a sliver of taut muscle. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you drag your eyes back to his.

"Hi, lovie," the man says, cocky grin on his lips as he strokes up to your ribs and down again. A little girlish giggle bubbles in your throat, and you tell yourself it's the alcohol that makes the cheesy nickname work.

"Hey yourself," you murmur back, equally cheesy. It must work for him as well as it did for you, considering how much his smile grows.

He has fucking dimples. Dear lord.

He dips his head down to you, tugging your body further into his and moving his hips to the faster beat of the new song. You're almost resting against him, his thick thigh squeezed between your legs and your weight pressed against his chest. Still, you do your best to gyrate along with him.

"'M Johnny," he says, forehead pressed against yours, eye contact still unbroken.

You breathe out your name in return, hips jutting against the thickness of his thigh where it rests against your aching core. He repeats your name, then pushes his leg up just a bit more with a smirk on his lips. You tip forward a bit, biting his chest through his shirt in response.

He only groans, one hand dropping to the small of your back to force you into a deeper arch.

"Want you to come home with me tonight, lass. You wan' that too?" His accent - Scottish, it's like some angel shaped him perfectly for you - has thickened as your dance continued. His head dips to your throat again, mouthing at the think skin just below your ear. He keeps speaking before you can answer his question, almost muttering to himself at this point. "Promise I'll take good care of you, give you the best night of your life, give you everythin' you've ever wanted. That sound good, baby?"

"Jo-Johnny," you gasp out, hand weakly patting at his chest as your grinding hips bring you closer and closer to a peak you're not sure you want to reach in the middle of the dance floor. "Please, please take me home with you?"

His breath hitches right beneath your ear, then you feel his lips stretch into a smile, feel teeth pressed against you. "Yeah? Want me to take you and fuck you good, huh, lovie?"

You let out a little whine, tugging at his hair as you continue to rut against him, becoming more and more uncoordinated as his hand presses harder against your spine to encourage you.

"Hm, how about you go ahead and come for me now, lass? A little warm up, to show you how good tonight'll be." You keen plaintively at the words, tucking your head into his neck to hide your face, and he rumbles against you. "Yeah, just like that. C'mon, come for me pretty girl."

He slips a hand up your dress, the one not keeping you in an arch, and his finger dips confidently past your panties to tweak your swollen clit. His breathing grows heavier against you, but his fingers don't falter, strumming at you over and over until you go stiff with a full body shudder. You bite down onto his neck to keep from crying out, but he doesn't bother to smother the deep groan from his chest.

Before you've fully recovered, Johnny's pulling you off the dance floor, hand locked around your elbow to keep you from falling. Your knees nearly knock together as you try to keep up with him, still more than a little dazed.

This isn't like you. You've always been hyper selective with the men you take home, never gone out without telling someone, certainly never let anyone get you off in public. But as you follow this Scot out of the bar, vision hazy from the alcohol and the orgasm, you can't find a single piece of you that worries this might not be the right choice. Every part of you clambers for more of him, and you're not in any mood to deny yourself. Surely you've earned a bit of reckless fun.

Johnny glances over his shoulder, his dopey smile breaking you out of your thoughts. You can't help but smile back, snuggling into him when he tucks you under his arm as you finally step into the cool night air.

-----

You thrash your head against the door, eyes rolled back in ecstasy and mouth dropped open as Johnny licks desperately at your cunt, lacy black panties left loose around one ankle.

He's almost nasty about it, hand gripping your thigh so tightly you know there'll be pretty finger-shaped bruises come morning, slobbering so much that you can't tell how much of the wetness between your legs is your slick and how much is his spit. His head is ducked beneath your dress so you can't see his expression, but you can feel his moans and groans against your core. He's got to be just as into it as you are, if the thrusting motion of his hips is anything to go by.

He's driving you insane. Two fingers buried deep inside you, thrusting as quickly as his tongue flicks over your clit, leaving you panting and quivering. Every few moments he wraps his teeth very lightly around your clit, gives the bud a quick but soft squeeze and rumbles deep in his throat, and every time you shout with pleasure. He moans along with you, pulling his fingers out fully to bury his tongue in your hole, groaning again as he sucks down as much of your taste as he can. When you give a sharp yank of his hair in response he's quick to stuff you again - three fingers this time - and go back to sucking on your clit like it's his favorite candy.

It doesn't take long for him to get you off. His clever tongue, the punishing pace of his fingers, and the evidence of his own desperation have you coming less than five minutes into the whole ordeal, loud moans spilling through slack lips, uncaring of thin walls or anyone unfortunate enough to be in the hallway.

Once he deems you finished he leans back on his heels, grinning up at you with a mixed expression of pride and smugness, jaw and lips absolutely soaked from his ministrations.

"You taste delicious, lass. Can't wait to do that again, but I need my cock in you soon or I might fuckin' die," he chuckles. You can't believe he's capable of being so nonchalant when you're not sure you could form a full sentence in your current state, especially considering the very obvious bulge in the front of his jeans, the one he finally grinds his hand on when he catches you looking.

You hum a bit, running a hand through his mohawk and scratching your nails lightly across his scalp. His eyes drift shut and he leans into the touch, hips rutting into his own hand, the big scary Scotsman made soft by a few pets. You don't feel so thrown off by your inability to speak anymore.

He stands after a few moments, and you're reminded of how big he is. Without your heels you just come up to his shoulders, and his shoulders themselves are wider than your body. You could hide behind this man, completely invisible, and it makes you wetter than you would've ever imagined.

"C'mon, darling," he grunts, locking his hands beneath your thighs and confidently lifting you. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, luxuriating in his warmth as he presumably moves the two of you to his room. You kiss up his throat, sucking little love bites into his tanned flesh and smirking at the responding squeeze of his hands against you.

Johnny drops you rather unceremoniously onto his bed, and you can't help but laugh a bit as you bounce. He steps away for just a moment to turn a lamp resting on the bedside table on, then goes to turn off the overhead light so you're both bathed in a warm glow. You watch the way his jeans hug his ass as he moves, then can't move your eyes back to his in time as he moves around.

He smiles at you, the arrogant man. "Likin' the view, hen?"

You just leans back on your elbows, humming a note in your throat as you try and lay as seductively as possible in your rucked up dress.

His smile is one of pure sin as he steps back to the edge of the bed and tugs his shirt off before reaching down to undo his belt. You stare for a moment before wiggling out of the tight dress you'd worn, blindly throwing it across the room.

His eyes light up when he sees you weren't wearing a bra, a groan bubbling out of his chest as he reaches to paw at your tit with one hand and continues to undo his belt with the other. He hardly gives you a chance to look at him (more accurately, the show he's giving with that fucking belt) as he crawls on top of you, fingers twisting harshly at the nipple he's already got a hold of.

He dips his head down to yours for a kiss, and you gladly give it to him. You feel your slight nervousness disappear as he reciprocates your desperation through he kiss, lips eager and tongue searching. He's drooling against you, spit dribbling into your mouth as he grinds against your stomach and plucks at your nipple.

You whine high in your throat, writhing beneath him. The tug at your breast begins to hurt as he pinches and pulls, but you grow all the more slick between your thighs.

After what feels like an eternity of the most erotic make-out session you've ever experienced, you clumsily drag a hand up to push at his forehead so you can get a deep breath in.

Before you can really even pull away, his free hand shoots up to pin your wrist beside your head, fingers tight around the delicate bones as he nips punishingly at your lips.

There's a part of you - buried beneath the lust-driven haze, probably - that gets a little freaked out over his tight hold. But the part of you in control, the horny part, loves being pinned and moans high in your throat.

A moment later Johnny pulls away from your lips, staring deep into your eyes. He seems to be looking for something, but you can't do much more than blink up at him in the state he's left you. After he's found whatever it is he wanted, he smiles down at you and dips quickly to land kisses all over your face.

You giggle again, body cooling just enough for you to feel more in control as his hands move to rest beside your head. "Johnny," you laugh as he nuzzles his nose into your cheek.

"Yeah, lovie?" he murmurs, smile audible in his voice.

You hiccup a bit when his hands come to rest on your breasts, cupping them and running his thumbs across the undersides. "Johnny, need you," you hum.

"Hm?" He murmurs, shifting so he's kneeling above your torso, focused on your tits now instead of your face. "Whatcha need from me? Huh? Need me to play with these pretty nipples some more?" He leans down, nipping playfully at your hard peaks as you beging to squirm. He moves from one to the other, driving you mad with the sharp clip of his teeth and the warm wetness of his tongue.

"No-ooo," you gasp out at a particularly hard bite. "Need- need your- " You're cut off when he pinches both of nipples at once, twisting them and pulling up until the spark of pain pushes just past pleasurable. "Ah!"

"What was that, lassie?" With tears blurring your vision, you swear his smirk is mean this time. "I can't give you what you want if I don't know what it is." He lets go of your left breast, reaching up to give you a few little taps on your cheek, enough to rattle your brain. "So, what'll it be, lovie? What do you need from me?"

"C-cock, Johnny, need your cock," you groan, knees hitching around his hips and torso writhing as you try to free your throbbing nipple from his captive hold.

He grins down at you, loosens his fingers and strokes over the painful bud at your long whine. "There we go, sweetheart. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Johnny shifts his grip to your armpits, and all you can do is blink a bit in shock as he hauls you up and puts you where he wants you. Which is, evidently, leaning against the few flat pillows he's got at the top of his bed. He mutters to himself as he lays you out, calloused hands spreading your knees and pushing your ankles up, up, up, only stopping when you whine at the stretch.

"Wanna watch your face the first time - can't wait to get in that tight pussy, love. Can see you clenching on air from here, you poor thing. Just need something to stuff you, yeah? Need a thick cock for that pretty little cunt to squirt on? Hm? You gonna be be good and let me give you what you need, baby?"

His slew of filthy words drag you deeper and deeper under. By the time you'd made the walk to his place the buzz you'd gotten at the bar had almost entirely worn off (enough for you to even seriously question your choice for a moment), but you feel drunker now than you have all night.

Johnny reaches over once you're settled where he wants you, tugging the bedside table's drawer open and pulling out a small silver packet. You're momentarily stunned as he pulls the condom on, unable to believe that you were about to let this man - this stranger - fuck you without protection.

The thought flies out of your head when he leans back over you, hands stroking tenderly up the outside of your thighs and to your ribs, then back down again, a slow tease you only manage to handle a few seconds of.

"Johnny," you whine, reaching up to tug his face closer to you. He indulges you with a smile, hands stroking your inner thighs as he teases you with chaste kisses across your lips.

"You ready for me, baby?" He breathes against you, forehead against yours and eyes as intense as they've been all night.

You keen high in your throat, arching your back to thrust your pussy just that much more forward as the head of his cock brushes your clit. "Johnny," you repeat. "Need you. Please."

His smile only grows. "Anything for you, lovie."

You hadn't gotten a good look at it, but you can tell now that Johnny's cock is thick. You gasp and moan in tandem with him as the head spears you open, the burn of the stretch spurring you into humping what little he's got stuffed into you.

Johnny grunts, one hand smacking against the headboard and he other squeezing your thigh as he pushes his way inside, not giving you any time to adjust to the monstrosity his cock seems to be.

When his balls finally meet the backs of your thighs just moments later, you both let out loud groans. His head falls back and through the haze of your lust you admire his naked chest, leaning forward as much as you can to rake your hands through the small amount of hair there. A pair of dog tags rest high up, just below the hollow of his throat, and you give the necklace a little tug, trying to get him to move.

He hisses through his teeth, suddenly yanking himself almost entirely out of you. He stays there for a moment, just the tip of the tip still buried in your heat, and looks into your eyes. Again, like he's looking for something, but you have no idea what. If you did you'd show him immediately, you'd do whatever you needed to get him to fuck you in this moment.

And again, a moment later he seems to have found whatever he wanted. His lips twitch up and he hunches over you a bit, the hand not on the headboard moving up to the crease of your thigh.

"Ready?" He whispers, eyes darkened with the same lust you feel overtaking you.

All you can do is nod.

Your head barely makes the movement back up before he's slamming into you, knocking the breath out of you and your whole body back into the pillows. He's immediately relentless, animalistic thrusts that pound at your most sensitive spots.

You let out a wail, admittedly a little loud for an apartment, and the hand that was resting on the headboard snaps down to cover your mouth. His wild eyes meet yours, and Johnny growls low in his throat, baring his teeth as he pace quickens even more.

"God, wish I could hear you scream, love. Wish it more than anythin'. But we can't be gettin' a noise complaint, huh?" he says between huffs of breath. It gratifies you to know he's just as affected by this as you are. Your mouth opens beneath his palm and you lave your tongue out, stroking across the lines and callouses.

The action draws a deep groan from his chest and he straightens up, hand still over your mouth and pace not slowing a bit. His eyes are transfixed on where he's plowing into you, and after a moment of staring he ducks his head a bit and spits where the two of you meet, making the whole ordeal even messier.

The visual makes you moan against his hands, your own fingers squeezes desperately around his wrist as your singular hold on reality.

Johnny smiles at you, a cocky man who knows exactly how good he's fucking you. "Yeah, love? That feel good?" All you can do is nod, hardly able to hear him past the blood rushing in your ears and the squelching sound of your fucking. "Gonna come for me, then? Show me how good I make ya feel?"

You whine a desperate sound in your throat and tap your fingers urgently against his wrist, well aware of the fact that you very rarely come without at least some stimulation on your clit. Johnny's hand shifts to cup your cheek, thumb stroking over your lips.

"P-please, Johnny," you gasp out, eyes wet and wide. "Need- need you to touch my clit, please?"

Johnny's head drops to your shoulder as he moans low and loud. His lips shift to that sensitive spot below your ear as his hand moves to slide the heel of his hand over your clit. "Fuckin' love to hear you beg, lovie. Can't get enough o' it."

The added stimulation of his rough grinds against your bud combined with the continued pace of his thrusts has you coming in what must be record time, every muscle tensing and a sharp "Ah!" tearing out of your throat as Johnny fucks you through it.

He doesn't cover your mouth this time, just leans his cheek heavily against yours and breaths in all the noises you can't trap. His free hand forces your knee down to the bed when you start to almost fight the strength of your climax. Your walls squeeze him so tightly he'd have been forced out of you had he not already been forcing himself in.

"God fucking damn it, lass, you're choking my cock," he groans, accent growing thicker the more he sinks into his own pleasure. "Such a good fuckin' girl, fuck."

"Yes, yes, feels so good, Johnny, so good," you babble thoughtlessly, feeling out of your mind with pleasure as the relentless pressure against your clit continues even after your orgasm.

"Yeah?" His voice is unsteady now, thrusts a little bit sloppy as he nears his own peak and you go limp beneath him. "You goin' cock drunk on me, lass? Huh? Yer losin' yer goddamn head on my dick, fuck, I'm not gonna last, love."

His hands move to your hips, thrusting you down at the same time he thrusts up, and you cry out in ecstasy, overstimulated and losing all ability to think past the massive cock bruising your pussy.

"Jo-Johnny!" you cry out, reaching another peak just on the tail of the last one, shocked by your own body. You jerk underneath him, nails leaving bright red lines down his pecs when you drag them violently down his torso.

His last few thrusts are the harshest yet, prolonging your sudden orgasm and bringing him to his own as he finally stills balls-deep inside you, letting out a deep groan into the juncture where your shoulder meets your neck.

The two of you lay there for a moment, slick with sweat and panting against each other as he slowly goes soft inside you. Johnny's nearly gone limp, and his weight is heavy in a comforting way against you, even if his hips spread yours just enough to strain your muscles.

He starts to move again after a moment, little aborted thrusts accompanied by whines and groans from him as he overstimulates the both of you. You reach a hand up to push at his forehead when it all verges on too much for you, but he's too out of it to realize and just keeps moving his hips, bumping your clit with each halting thrust and seemingly driving himself insane.

After a few moments of this you start to squirm, ready to pass out after a satisfying fuck. You whine his name, moving your hand from his face to the bottom of his mohawk. When he still doesn't stop, you wrap your fingers in his hair and tug, a sharp noise all you're capable of to communicate what you need.

He stills suddenly, then makes a sound you can only call a snarl, teeth latching onto the meat of your shoulder and digging in. The sudden and sharp pain draws a high pitched noise from your throat, and he jerks his head back and forth a bit as his hips punish you with a few sharp thrusts.

"Johnny!"

He pulls his head back, eyes locking with yours. Despite seeming more in control than you for most of the act, you can see now just how far gone he is. Johnny's mouth hangs open, drool dripping past his lips from his work against your skin, his eyes dark and hazy as he stares into yours. A few moments later he stills then then pulls out, drawing twin moans from the both of you.

Before you even know what's happening, you're flipped onto your stomach. You blink blearily at the wood in front of you, trying to push up on your hands and shifting your legs closed.

"No," Johnny growls from behind you. His right hand goes to your left shoulder, pulling you tight against his body where he grinds his dick and up down your soaked slit. His left hand clumsily forces your legs apart, just shoving your thighs open until you lose your balance and are forced to your elbows.

He thrusts there for a few moments, and to your surprise his cock gradually thickens, then grows hard in your slick. You've still hardly realized what's going on when he pulls his hips back, lines up his cock, and pushes back into you.

The two of you let out twin noises of pleasure - his tinged with desperation and yours with that spike of pain that comes from overstimulation.

Johnny fucks you just as hard this time as he did the first, but the position manes he's nearly fucking your cervix. Each thrust forces a sharp noise out of your throat, and this time he doesn't silence you. He uses his hold on your shoulder to really fuck you, so rough you're nearly sure his hips are leaving bruises against the back of your thighs.

Despite the undeniable pleasure coursing through you, the little sparks of pain from your clit bring you out of your daze a bit. Your hands fumble in front of you, jerking back and forth and back and forth along with the rest of your body as Johnny's pace stays strong. After a few moments of desperate searching you finally manage to grip what must be a slat in the headboard.

Feeling a little feral, you grab it tightly and tug yourself forward, away from the brutal cock trying rearrange your insides.

It's not the right choice. The slight resistance against Johnny's grip on you rips an angry noise from him. He slams a hand down on the back of your neck and wraps his fingers in your hair, forcing your face into the mattress and dragging you back by his relentless grip. You keen, high and pathetic, and his only response is a rumble deep in his throat.

He stills for a moment, buried deep inside you still, and you can feel him shifting around behind you. You blink the tears from your eyes and stare dazedly at the dark gray of his walls, feeling like one big throbbing ache. A moment later you see his foot land on the bed at the bottom of your vision, and the hand not holding you down forces you into an arch that borders on painful.

Face smushed into the mattress, chest and stomach nearly flat to the bed and hips canted high in the air, pussy swollen and leaking - you can't even image how much of a whore you must look like.

Johnny doesn't seem to care too much. He leans his weight against you, leveraging his body weight into his thrusts as he starts his violent movements again. His teeth lock onto your shoulder blade, pressure strong and sucking. Every thrust forces a little uh from your lips, and every noise from you just pushes him further.

He moves his bites every few thrusts, and you know your back will be decorated in bruises come morning. When he starts to really lose his mind, when the span of your shoulders is aching and wet from his spit, he leans his forehead into the center of your spine and adds more weight behind his thrusts, slowing down but forcing what feels like the entirety of his strength behind each one.

With his hips tilted slightly more downward he absolutely plows into the sensitive spot against your inner walls. The first time he hits it, you cry out a noise of pure pleasure and another "Johnny!". He pauses for a moment, then lets out a moan of his own at the tight grip of your cock and sets out to hit that spot on every thrust. You start to sob a bit, high pitched little wails coming from your lips as the pleasure becomes overwhelming while still not being enough for you to finish.

He seems to realize you're not coming anytime soon only a few thrusts later, and somewhere deep in your mind you wonder if the multiple shifts in angle are meant to be for your benefit. He growls again and you feel the hand on your back creep around to your stomach then down to your clit, where two of his fingers begin to stroke and pluck at your most sensitive area.

The sudden onslaught at where you're most sensitive combined with the merciless attack on your g-spot had you rearing up, wild shouts coming without your consent. A snarl tears from his throat as the hand at the base of your skull muscles you down again, his body fighting yours as you instinctively look for a reprieve from the stimulation.

"Fucking-" he growls. "Fucking take it, goddamnit."

It only takes a few moments with the stimulation on your clit for you to come. The feeling grows from deep inside you, and for a moment you fear you recognize the sensation - it's one that certainly does not belong in this bed.

Before your brain fully connects the dots of what's happening you're swept beneath a tidal wave of sensation, fight leaving your body and leaving you limp as you do your best to squeeze the life out of Johnny's cock. You hear his groan from behind you, loud and uninhibited as he buries himself completely inside you to ride the wave of his own orgasm as you milk him.

"Knew you'd be perfect for us, lass. Look at ya - squirtin' all over me and makin' a mess, fuck. Gonna sleep in it tonight, soak in your scent. Can't fuckin'- can't fuckin' believe my luck- goddamn-"

His body finally falls against yours, cock slipping out of you (to your immense relief) and the left half of his body laid over the right half of yours. For a moment, the two of you pant in sync.

Then he's twisting both of you, rolling onto his right side and pulling you into his chest, tucking your face into his neck as he reaches down to pull the condom off his cock. There's a voice, somewhere deep in your head, that worries about the fact that he used the same condom for two rounds, but the heat of Johnny against you and the soothing pet of his hand through your hair empties your head too quickly for you to focus it.

You glance up at him once he finally settles. The smile on his face now is nothing by dopey and joyous, and you can't help but mirror it even as the ache settles in your core.

He makes short order of getting the two of you ready to sleep with just a bit of wiggling. You've had one night stands before where your partner (or yourself, on occasion) wanted to leave immediately, have even grown to expect it from most men, but there's a spark of warmth in your chest when Johnny tightens his arms around you, your chest against his, his chin hooked over your shoulder and using your head as a pillow, one arm wrapped tight behind your back and the other underneath your head. It feels like there isn't an inch of space between the two of you, and you've never been more comfortable.

You hum happily, still a little drunk from the pleasure, and snuggle your face back into his warm throat. The last thing you feel before falling asleep is a kiss against your shoulder and a hand stroking up and down your spine.

-----

It feels like hours later when you wake up, the room still painted in a soft yellow light but not yet harsh beams of sunlight.

It takes a moment for you to understand what's happening, breath bouncing back onto your lips where you're panting into a man's - Johnny, you remember - neck. You register the fact that your hands are curled between the two of you, your feet tucked between his calves, and finally the feeling of something poking and prodding at your very sensitive cunt.

It still takes another moment for your brain to understand that Johnny must be trying to start another round.

You whine a little in protest, one hand creeping up to wrap around his neck and the other pushing flat against his chest.

"Shhh," he soothes, breath puffing onto your forehead. "I just need you one more time, lovie. You can go back to sleep, promise I won't be rough this time, just need to feel you wrapped around me again, hm? Please, lassie, promise I'll be quick."

He sounds so desperate, a little out of control compared to how he sounded earlier, you're almost tempted to spread your legs and let him have whatever he wants. But then the tip of his cock puts just the tiniest bit of pressure at your hole and your hips instinctively jerk back at the sting, so you whine, "Johnny," mouthing at his chest. "'M sore. You fucked me too good earlier."

The noise that rips from his throat is almost begging, you feel it beneath your lips. His breathing grows heavier "Fuck, 'm sorry baby, so sorry. I'll just- I'll just fuck your thighs, yeah? Yeah, yeah, paint your pretty pussy with me, fuck, leave you soaked like you soaked me-"

"Johnny..."

"I know, I know, lovie, I'll just..." he shifts a bit, leaning his chin onto your forehead and anchoring a hand around your hip to keep you from squirming as his hips begin to jerk without rhythm. His cock is thick where you're most sensitive and you can't keep the high noises and quiet sniffles in as the sensation shoots both pleasure and pain up your spine.

”Hush, lass, 'm almost there, just need you to keep that pussy right there for me, so fuckin' close, just... just keep soakin' me..." he murmurs nearly incoherently against your forehead before his hips jerk to a still. You feel his come paint your thighs and you keen, part of you heartbroken he didn't paint your insides despite the pain.

"Ah, I know, I know, lassie. Here - I'll, I'll get you off too... 'm not selfish, hen, won't leave you wanting. Not like-" he cuts himself off, leaning his head down a bit and honest to god taking your cheek in his mouth, teething lightly at the fat there and soaking your face with slobber. You don't even think about the odd end of his sentence, you just arch into him and moan as his hand slips down to play with your clit.

His legs squeeze yours between them as you start to wiggle, hips thrusting away from the sharp sparks of pain your poor overstimulated clit is feeling.

"Hush, hush, baby just gonna... just gotta get you off real quick, ok? You can go back to sleep after, promise, just gotta make sure... gotta..." his voice trails off into a groan as your cunt twitches and flutters. He takes your lips in a sloppy kiss, more an exchange of spit and rubbing of tongues than anything.

Just as you're about to come he slips a thick finger into your overused cunt, drawing a sharp yelp from your throat, which he immediately sets to settle by licking across and around your slack mouth. "It's okay, it's okay, lovie, just giving you somethin' to clench on, yeah? Givin' your poor cunt somethin' to squeeze on, c'mon, you're alright." His finger begins to move around inside you, crooking, feeling for something until he presses right against your g-spot and you arch deeply into his body, a long moan falling from your lips. "Just gotta... yeah, that it? Tha' what feels good? Hng, you sound so pretty, baby, love your fuckin' noises, christ-"

You come with quiet gasps, the air pouring directly into his mouth just like his words had poured into yours. He works you through it, fingers slowly gentling on your clit and lessening the pressure on your g-spot as your jerking slows before you still and he finally pulls fully away from your core.

"Johnny," you mewl, hand gripping tight on the nape of his neck as you press as much of you to him as you can, slick skin sliding against slick skin. "Not-not again tonight, please, won't-won't be able to walk tomorrow if we keep going.

He laughs deeply against the top of your head. "Not as much of a deterrent as you might think, lassie." His arm wraps around the base of your spine, hand reaching around to rest on your stomach and his other arm wrapping around your neck in what almost feels like a choke hold. He throws his leg over your hip, leaning his body weight onto you and almost crushing you into the bed. "Won't touch you again tonight, promise, okay sweetheart? We'll go again in the morning, but just rest until then."

You choose to believe him and cuddle more deeply into his hold, a deep sigh leaving you as you finally pass out, boneless, against him.

-----

Johnny regrets his promise. He regrets it immensely.

You're so fuckin' pretty beneath him, your hair like a halo around your head, eyes shut and unmoving in sleep, lips parted just a bit to let you breathe comfortably. There's a pinkness on the cheek he'd gotten a hold of earlier (a light outline of his teeth marks that makes his cock ache even after three orgasms), and your lips are still swollen from the work he'd done on them. Christ, you look more fuckable now than you had with your hips rucked in the air, pussy drooling and begging for his cock, squirming before he got a good hold on you and kept you still.

He's not sure he'll be keeping his promise.

He wants to. You're gonna be right pissed at him come morning, he knows it, and the temptation to have you pliant and begging for it one last time is almost more than he can handle.

But no. He made you a promise, and even if he'll betray you in another way come sunrise, he won't betray you in the one promise he's actually made. If Ghost were here, he'd lock a warm hand around the back of Soap's neck, rumble something about "bein' good, Johnny" and take complete control of the situation. It'd feel good, the way it always does when Simon takes over, and Soap wouldn't have to worry about fucking any of this up cause Ghost would set him right back on track if he did.

Of course if Ghost were here, he'd never have met you.

Simon had left their shared flat only three days ago, sent on a mission the PMC they'd both signed with had requested him for. Usually the two of them worked together, neither willing to be separated from the other for long, but apparently this mission just had to be completed by one agent. Soap had pouted about it all morning, until Ghost had forced him to his knees and fucked his throat so good he'd been hoarse the rest of the day.

The first day after Ghost left he'd been... okay on his own. Ghost's mission - simple fuckin' reconnaissance, no good reason Soap couldn't have gone with him - took him far out to the country, so no texts or calls could be received. Johnny settled for spamming him a bit anyway, smiling at the thought of Ghost's inevitable annoyance when he regained an internet connection and felt his phone start buzzing endlessly. Other than that, Johnny spent most of the day cleaning. He's slow at it, but all the better to take up time in the day. He did a little shopping too, filled the flat up so it didn't feel so empty. It was a bit nice to go out in public and not part the damn Red Sea with Ghost at his side. People aren't scared of Johnny in the same way - they see his cheerful smile and laid-back posture and assume he's mostly harmless. He rarely needs to correct them.

Still. Would've been nicer with Simon.

The second day he realized their home felt empty because of the lack of one giant, brooding lieutenant, not the lack of throw pillows (which he didn't even bother to make match, for fuck's sake). This set him off a bit, left him pacing angrily around the apartment and muttering to the walls. Simon didn't have to take the fucking mission, and now he's left Johnny here - all alone! - in the home they bought for themselves to finally find a bit of fuckin' peace. It's not fair.

He'd been unable to take the absolute silence of the flat any longer on the third day, determined to surround himself with distractions. Granted, it's not like the flat is much less quiet with Ghost around, but the man has a presence that fills a room up. Leaves the room desolate and empty when he goes, though, and Soap is quite pissed about it. He'll make sure to let Simon know when he comes back, starts planning his revenge at night when he jacks off to relieve the tension in his spine.

He heads to a bar he knows is always packed that third night, feeling more and more pathetic as he rots away in bed.

It's there that he sees you.

You're on the dance floor alone, hips moving in a way that's got his and every single man's eyes glued to you. You're fucking stunning, sunk into a world of your own as you hit every beat of the music. Johnny can't help himself from moving toward you, shouldering past the writhing mass of people to get to you.

The moment he gets his hands wrapped around your hips he knows. You're perfect in hid hold, his hands fit around you like you were carved by fuckin' God Himself for Johnny. His head drops back as he tugs your hips into his, too caught up in his own head to think about what a scare he must've given you.

You still for a moment, stiff, but when Soap moves his hips away from yours and keeps his movements largely nonsexual (for now), more just swaying with you in his arms, you begin to relax and move with him.

You must feel it too then, right? Surely a young woman, one all by herself, wouldn't be so comfortable with a man she can't even see if she didn't feel the same spark up her spine he did.

The more you let him lead, the more sexual the dancing becomes, the more convinced Soap is that you're simply a gift for him. Placed right where he would see you when he needed you most.

There's a moment you scurry off to get another drink. Soap's eyes remain trained on your ass as you strut and it occurs to him that his and Ghosts' moving-in-together anniversary will be tomorrow - the same day he's set to come back from his assignment.

What better gift could he get than a pretty girl in his bed to welcome him home?

The plan maps itself out in his head as he continues to dance with you, time slipping by as song after song plays, his cock aching in his jeans and begging for release. He figures he'll get in a few rounds of fun with you to knock you out properly. Not a hardship for him - if you fuck as well as you dance it'll be a challenge for him to stay awake.

Once you're well and truly fucked unconscious, he'll begin the process of tying you up all pretty for Simon.

He gets you to their flat, still shocked you let him get you off on the dance floor, and he hardly waits for the front door to close before he's on his knees, nose and tongue buried in your center, feeling near feral with the need to get you off again. He's already fuckin' addicted to you and he hasn't even gotten his cock in yet.

You taste as good as Simon does - just more proof he was meant to find you. Ambrosia and nectar, the two of you.

He feels a little bad, in the afterglow of the second round. He thinks through his second orgasm and sees the way you'd fought against it. He worries, for a moment, that your want to get away was real, not just your body's instinctual reaction. But then you curl further into him, breath warm against his pulse point, and he remembers how clingy you were post-orgasm. All's well that ends well, right?

It's now, post third round, that Johnny watches you. His original movements of rolling you to your back and propping himself above you are meant to make sure you're not waking up any time soon, and he's definitely assured of that.

Still, he can't resist another little test. He prods his pointer and middle finger at the small space between your lips, applying just the slightest pressure. You don't even twitch, breathing steady, but your lips open just a centimeter or so more and he grins at the invitation. He slips the fingers in, carefully pushing further and further into your mouth until you let out a cute little gagging noise, brows furrowing lightly.

He stops there, waiting to see if he's passed your gag reflex without noticing. When you remain still, he lets out a breath of relief.

He pushes his fingers down on your tongue, applying pressure slowly so your brain doesn't suspect anything. In just a moment he's got your mouth fully open, and he can't resist anymore.

He groans a bit, hips thrusting into the bed as he leans in and licks at your mouth. His fingers slip down to hook over your bottom teeth so he can get another taste of your tongue, exploring every nook and cranny of your mouth that he was too worked up to find earlier.

He continues to make out with you until his hips jerk to a still, cum sticky between his abs and the bedsheet.

Then he really gets to work.

Johnny pulls himself away from you, leaving one last kiss on the hickey he'd sucked onto your neck. He moves around the dim room with military stealth, absolutely silent as he collects what he needs.

He's very, very slow as he ties you up. He lifts your body from where you were relaxed, propping you up just slightly against the headboard. He takes your right wrist first, lifting it to to one of the slats and tying the rough rope around and around until you're secured. He does the same with your other wrist, leaving your hands spread wide above you. He knows from experience that the rope is rough, that it'll leave wicked burns on your skin if you're left with any room to wiggle around. So he ties the knots real tight, leaving only room for circulation and absolutely none for movement.

Next he ties your ankles. Again he starts with the right first, lifting and slowly shifting your knee with it at the same time so you don't jerk suddenly and wake yourself. He's glad to see you're decently limber, because he knows you won't feel too sore later as he ties your left ankle to your left wrist. He repeats the process with your right ankle.

Feeling quite proud of himself, Johnny kneels back on his heels to admire his work. The position he's got you in leaves you completely spread, cunt and ass both open and accessible for him. He knows that he'll be able to bend down and reach both your tits and your face while he's fucking you, but you won't be able to do much more than writhe in place. You might manage a few thrusts if you get particularly worked up.

It's the same position that drives him the most insane when Ghost ties him up in it. It's also his favorite.

He grabs the last item after a moment of stroking his mostly soft cock and admiring you. The ring gag is decently large, made for someone with a mouth his size, not yours. It'll leave your jaw sore once he takes it out and the thought makes him frown - it's far too rough for his baby. Unfortunately, Ghost only buys rough toys for Soap, so Soap only has rough toys to use with you.

He hooks the ring beneath your bottom row of teeth then sets out to very slowly ease it fully in to hold your mouth in an o shape, buckling it around your head once he's confident you're as comfortable as he can make you. All the while he fantasizes about all the soft things he'll by you once you've settled in.

Silk rope, of course, and a much more comfortable gag to wear. Maybe one you can chew on a bit - Soap gnaws endless at any gag Simon stuffs in his mouth, but he doesn't want your soft mouth chewing at the hard plastics he prefers. He'll get you all the blankets and pillows you could ever want, too. Lay you in the center of the bed and build a little nest around you, the best things for his best girl, fuck you deep in the silk and fur, sandwiching you between himself and Ghost, the two of them fucking you til you're crying and begging for a break, pretty little pillow held to your chest for comfort while they stretch you to your limit, hiccuping and sniffling into a blanket he bought you -

A noise of discomfort breaks him out of his fantasy. Johnny jerks forward, petting your face and making the most soothing noises he can to keep you from waking up. He gives you his weight, remembering how well you reacted to it earlier, and after a few moments of his attention you go limp again. He licks long and languid into your mouth again, taking a moment to suck on your tongue for own comfort before pulling away.

He strokes his hands up and down the soft skin of your inner thighs as he decides what to do with you now. He hadn't had the forethought to promise not to fuck you, no, he'd been a bleedin' idiot and you said he wouldn't fuckin' touch you until sunrise. He fights to keep his fingers from tightening around the meat of your thighs as he scolds himself, frustrated.

Well... it's not like you would know, is it?

Maybe... maybe he can just eat you out a bit. Yeah, yeah he can go real slow so you don't wake up, bury his face in your cunt til sunrise then wake you up with his tongue. Maybe an orgasm will calm a bit of your inevitable panic?

He smirks and lowers himself to his stomach between your thighs, hands pulling the sticky, swollen lips of your cunt apart so he can lick one thick, broad stripe from asshole to clit. He clenches his jaw tightly, locking a loud groan behind his teeth at the unique mix of your cum and his on his tongue.

A few deep breaths to calm himself down, and Johnny dives into your pussy.

-----

The first thing you feel when you wake up is pleasure.

You know what a tongue on your core feels like. It takes you a moment or two to remember, in the dark of sleep still, that you went home with a man last night. With Johnny, who'd promised not to touch you again until morning.

Well. The quick swipes against your clit tell you he's either a liar, or it's time for you to get up and out.

That's when you realize that something must be wrong. Because there's an ache in your hips, and your arms don't move when you try to reach down and push Johnny's face further into you so you can finish.

Your eyes blink open blearily, confusion creasing your expression.

Your feet are in the air above you. More accurately, your feet are tied in the air above you.

What the fuck?

A cautious noise of confusion tears from your throat as you begin to twist and yank at your apparent bindings in earnest, panic and pleasure making your heart pound against your ribcage.

As you discover the lack of leeway your movements become more and more frantic, uncontrollable noises of pure animal distress coming from you.

Which is when you realize that you're making those noises because you can't speak. There's something locked behind your teeth, tied around your head just tight enough that you can't force the thing out with your tongue. Your breathing isn't restricted at all, and you realize it's because your mouth is gaping open, able to suck in any oxygen you need. As you become more aware of the intrusion, an ace in the hinges of your jaw makes itself known.

Your panic spikes in earnest now, noises becoming just sharp sounds of fear from your throat as you start to squirm away from the invading sensation at you most private area.

Then Johnny lifts himself into your eyeline.

He looks- he looks fine, which just freaks you out more because for some godforsaken reason you'd trusted this man, and now the only conclusion you can come to is that he's got you bound and gagged to his headboard.

What the fuck?

Tears begin to stream from your eyes, first one then more than you can hope to keep track of.

"Oh, lass," Johnny coos, genuine fucking concern carved into the lines of his face. He leans forward and cups both hands around your cheeks, thumbs swiping beneath your eyes to clear away the wetness. His warmth is a shock against the chilled skin of your face, bringing everything into even sharper focus as your head clears more and more. "Hush, don't cry. It's okay, it's okay, 'm gonna take care of you, yeah? Just had to tie you up all pretty for Simon, you wanna look good for him when he comes home, don't you?"

You finally go still at that, desperate movements jerking to a sudden stop. Simon...?

Surely he wouldn't... surely he doesn't mean to share you?

Knew you'd be perfect for us.

I'll get you off too... 'm not selfish, hen, won't leave you wanting. Not like-

Oh god. Oh god, he means to share you. With another man.

"You're gonna love him, baby," Johnny continues above you, either unaware or uncaring of the wave of terror beginning to overtake you. "He seems real mean and scary at first, but I promise he'll be so nice after. I'll make sure he's nice, ok? Won't let him be too mean to my baby. Whatever he'll do, you'll like," he smirks down at you, like you're both in on some joke. "I always do."

He shifts his hands down your cheeks and your neck, landing firmly over your breasts and giving them a tight squeeze. "For now..." he dips his head to take one nipple into his mouth, sucking so softly for a man doing all of this without your permission. "I'll take care of you, yeah? I'll loosen you up so good for him, lovie."

He plays with your breasts for several minutes, drool sliding across your chest when he can't decide which tit to focus on. You begin to shift out of your frozen state of shock, his words slowly registering in your head while he plays with you.

You jerk again, wrists twisting desperately to try and find any sort of weak spot to tug against, air puffing harshly through the gag. Johnny frowns up at you from where he's sucking at your nipple, brows furrowing as he glances between your hands. He pulls himself reluctantly away from you, pushing up and gripping just below the ties with a stern look on his face. "No, lassie. These ropes are rough, I don't want you to hurt yourself just because you're tryin' to get away from a good thing. Stop tryin' to break yer damn wrists, yeah?"

You glare at him furiously, absolutely astounded by the man's audacity. His frown morphs into a smirk verging on mean as he leans closer to your face. "You gon' listen for me, huh? Gonna be a good girl for me so I can finish eating out your pretty cunt?" You let out a sharp noise of anger, lurching forward to try and slam your forehead into his.

He jerks back before you can make contact, shock flashing briefly across his features before a laugh bursts from his lips while you're forced back by the restraints, huffing and puffing angrily. "Easy, lovie. Try somethin' like that with Simon and he won't be so nice as I am."

With that he gives your forearms a little squeeze and a rub, then lowers himself between your thighs to apparently get right back to work. You jerk as his tongue pokes out to prod at your clit, hips thrusting as much as they can in your tight bindings and noises falling past your lips without your control.

Johnny lets out a loud groan at his first taste of you. He scoops his arms under your thighs, hands landing at the base of your spine and your thighs in the crease of his elbows, holding his own face as deep in your cunt as he can and gets to work.

If his work last night was nasty, this is animalistic. He's not doing this for your pleasure, he's doing it for his. His tongue doesn't stay on your clit, it doesn't even stay on your cunt itself - he licks all around your core, the creases of your thighs where sweat begins to drip, even down to your sensitive asshole (you jerk and yelp at the sensation, and you feel the rumble of his laughter as he pushes his tongue in there, thrusting a few times before moving to stuff as much as he could into your pussy).

You fight against it, cunt pulsing and trying to force out the invasion when it ventures there, hips writhing desperately - towards and away, but you don't think about it, you don't want more of this, you want to get away from him and from the pleasure he gives - and your head rolling back and forth on the pillow.

The worst part, probably, is the fact that you can't hide your noises. The gag in your mouth doesn't let you keep anything to yourself, even the tiniest whine or sigh is clear as day with the way your lips are forced open.

You're discovering that grunts and moans of anger, of fear, sound very similar to grunts and moans of pleasure. It makes your eyes well up with tears all over again, which just pisses you off even more.

Johnny's apparently unaware of your tumultuous mental state, eating at your cunt like a fucking Christmas feast.

He seems to decide you should come a few moments later, focusing his attention onto your clit and slipping two fingers inside of where you're neediest and adding a solid pressure against your g-spot. The sudden stretch, the slight sting from last night, draws a high noise from you and your hips jut sharply into the air. Johnny's response is to lightly wrap his teeth around your clit, slowly biting down and gradually applying pressure - tongue still flicking away - until you come.

This orgasm, forced from your body, drives you insane. You shout from behind the gag and slam your head forward rather than back, desperate for the freedom of any movement you can get. Your hips grind as much as they can between the ropes and Johnny's hand, trying to work through the overwhelming sensations for you.

When you're finished, body gone limp in acceptance your brain hasn't caught up with, he doesn't move. His face remains planted in your pussy, breath warm and wet against your sensitive flesh, but his fingers slip from your tender passage. A moment later, once you've calmed down a bit and can't do anything but stare wide-eyed at the ceiling, he heaves himself up to his knees and stares down at your body.

His face is soaked, your slick nearly dripping from his chin. There's a shine on his fucking throat.

Not entirely conscious of your movements, you try to get the gag out of your mouth again. You wiggle your tongue around it, trying to force under the ring so you can... you're not even really sure. Suck it into your mouth and spit it out? That might work if it wasn't tied around your fucking head. Regardless, you can't even get the tip of your tongue beneath the metal, top or bottom, so -

Johnny's loud groan interrupts your thoughts, freezing your movements. He's staring at your lips, pupils blown and chest rising and falling dramatically with his breaths. "Fuck, lovie, keep- keep movin' your tongue like that."

You don't listen but he crawls up your body anyway. You have a moment of panic, worried about this massive man dropping his body weight onto your thighs when he sits his ass down on them and rests his knees right by your ears, but he locks a hand around the headboard and holds up most of his own weight.

Small mercies, you think, then immediately curse yourself for even thinking anything positive towards this asshole.

If you thought you were immobile before, you're really learning the meaning of it now. With his weight resting on you - even just the little bit he allows - you can't move any part of yourself other than your fingers and toes.

"Yer fuckin' mouths so pretty, baby. Just gonna... just gonna fuck it a little, yeah?" Your eyes go wide at his murmured words and he's quick to stroke a hand down the side of your head, thumb tracing the forced shape of your lips. "I'll be gentle, promise, just need to be inside you. Won't even choke you on it, just need..." he trails off as his hips shift forward, tip just barely squeezing past the gag and into your mouth. You let out a high keen, and even the little vibrations make him throw his head back with closed eyes and groan.

He's true to his word, the bastard, only thrusting shallowly in and out as his free hand massages his own balls. You can only sit there, desperately trying to clamp your jaw down until that sends a sharp spike of pain up your skull and drags a high yelp from your throat. Johnny's eyelids briefly lift to check on you but quickly slip closed again.

This feels far more like a violation than his finger had. You're helpless to his movements even more now, simply forced to sit there and keep your tongue as still as possible in an attempt to steal even a modicum of his pleasure.

You don't know how long Johnny plays with your mouth. All you can do is lay there and wait.

Your noises are muffled by the cock in your mouth, and the slow pace seems to be the secret to keeping him relatively quiet. So when there's a loud slam outside of the bedroom, followed by what sound like heavy footsteps, you both take instant notice.

There's a moment where you think, delusionally, that someone must be here to help you. But then your see the rapidly growing elation on Johnny's face as he pulls himself free of your mouth, and you remember.

Just had to tie you up all pretty for Simon.

You're gonna love him, baby.

You can't help but let out a low cry at the realization, tears falling yet again.

Johnny doesn't even comfort you this time, just extracts himself from you and leaves a chaste kiss on your forehead before nearly trotting out of the bedroom, cock swinging proudly between his legs.

-----

Ghost's back. Finally, finally, Simon is fucking back. Soap's so excited by the knowledge that he's able to completely forget about his dick for the few steps it takes him to reach his partner.

Ghost's wearing a hoodie that's tight around his torso (one of Johnny's, he recognizes, knows that means he did miss Johnny, the pain at their separation wasn't just in his head) and low hanging sweatpants with his skull balaclava covering the bottom half of his face, black makeup smeared around his eye sockets from sweat. If Soap weren't hard as a rock already he'd certainly be by now.

He throws himself into his lieutenant's arms with a grin, leaning forward and leaving a loud, wet kiss on the covering over his face. Soap leans back to run a hand through the blonde hair, sees the heat in Simon's eyes and throbs.

Ghost cranes his head down and gives a perfunctory look over his unabashedly naked body and leaking cock. "That needy already, Johnny?"

"Yeah, L.t.," Soap replies, breath still coming out in pants from his grinning lips. "Been playin' with your anniversary present all morning."

Just on cue, there's a sound distinctly like a wail from behind the cracked open bedroom door. Johnny can't help but grin at the sound of your desperation, cock twitching between their bodies.

Ghost's eyes flick over to the door, then an eyebrow cocks above blue eyes. "Anniversary?"

Johnny can't help but roll his eyes, grasping Ghost's wrist and tugging him in the direction of their bedroom. He follows easily. "Don' play dumb, Si. Doesn't suit you."

Ghost doesn't get a chance to respond as Johnny swings their door open, pulling him into the room with the excitement of an overeager pup. "Ta-da," he beams, free hand gesturing to you. "Found her in a club. She's perfect. Feels like heaven around your cock, and fights when you fuck her through an orgasm." He can't help but chuckle, eyes drawn back to your form.

Your own eyes are wide with panic and locked on Ghost. Johnny feels a little bad for you, squirming little pathetic thing you've become, knowing how scary the man must seem to you. Johnny only comes up to Ghost's nose, and he has to suppress a groan at the thought of how wide Simon is compared to him, how the older man is going to absolutely crush you.

A rough and hot hand clamps on the nape of Johnny's neck, and he instinctively tears his eyes from you to Ghost. The man's thumb plucks at the chain his dog tags hang from, leaning just a bit toward his face. "This your gift?"

All Johnny can do is nod, a soft whine creeping out of his throat at the familiar representation of Ghost's control over him.

Simon's eyes crinkle and Soap knows there's a smile hidden under the mask. He leans forward and presses his covered lips to Johnny's forehead. "Good fuckin' boy, MacTavish."

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