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haztory · 3 months

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i’m a firm believer that john price, while he loves to take care of his lady and spoil her endlessly, is not a fan of seeing her reduced down to a baby.

if he’s into daddy kinks, it’s with the premise of you making him a daddy just as he will make you a mommy. if he’s spanking you, it’s not as a means of punishment but instead because it riles you up. he’s not into feeling abnormally ancient within a relationship dynamic, he actually quite likes when his woman is on par with him— intellectually, maturity, physically. he doesn’t like infantilization because he’s not into girls, he’s into women. sturdy ones that can hold their own and dish out as much as they can take.

it comes with its occasional drawbacks, however. the one—and only time— john ever lost his temper and yelled at you (not because you made him angry but because work is stressful, and his last assignment left him having a hard time readjusting to home, and you’ve been so patient, and he’s frustrated that he just can’t be what you need him to be) it was a staunch reminder that this is not a fling with some naive girl who idolizes him for his age and stature. he’s in a relationship. an adult one.

you’re staring at him, a brow raised and a stern look on your face as the echoes of his shout settle in the room. it’s a kind of glare that is only etched out by mothers to their disobedient children. stilling and telling of how exactly you feel about john’s outburst. there is no reason for gnashing teeth and snarling bites when you’re asking how you can best support him. and while you know in your head he doesn’t mean it, it still doesn’t excuse it.

“let’s put a pause in this, cause clearly we’re not going to get anywhere.” you say, voice carefully neutral but he can see the rage bubbling in your gaze, “why don’t you go take a walk, and when we’re both calm, we can discuss this further.”

and he hates the therapy speak, the measured and careful approach to emotions— it’s ridiculous, almost insulting. you’re treating him like a child, an explosive time bomb when both comparisons could be further from the truth. he’s the expert in bomb handlings, for christ’s sake. but he listens, grabbing his keys and a cigar and stepping out the door with an annoyed huff.

time and space, john begrudgingly admits, works wonders on a irritated mind. he finds his error in the mist of vexed thoughts and irrational moods, tempers it down with a long drag of his cigar and the wash of brandy at the pub. and he’s remorseful, incredibly so as he walks through the threshold of your home when the sun is setting to find you in the loveseat, book in hand and dinner simmering on the stove. you spare him a quick glance before returning to your novel, nothing further said.

he stands at the door, shameful and cognizant of his idiocy. he’s removing his fisherman beanie from the top of his head and moves to stand before you on your place on the couch. it has you closing your book, laying it down on your lap as you turn your attention to the man.

“i’m sorry.” he says lowly, eyes fixed on the hat in his hand as he picks a stray string on the fabric. “i shouldn’t have shouted at you. there was no need for that.”

your eyes stare knowingly into his, understanding written all over your face and while it’s a relief to see, it’s only a further iteration of what he’s come to realize—you are not just anyone. you’re someone who he wants to build his home with, navigate through terse and stormy waters with because you’re the perfect balance to the man who tries so hard to balance it all. it’s not perfect, but you don’t care about that. you don’t need perfect, have never demanded it to be—you strive for healthy. you model it by example, and you’ve whipped him into shape for it.

“it’s hard adjusting right now.”

“i know,” you tell him softly. your hands grab at his, pulling him down to his knees so you can see him at your level. you place your hands on the sides of his face, bringing him in for a gentle and sweet kiss. “if it’ll help, i can give you some space. a couple of days, i can go stay with my parents—“

“no.” he’s quick to shoot it down, shaking his head and rubbing his hands up and down the tops of your thighs, “i want you with me. i’m better when you’re with me.”

“okay.” you give him another gentle kiss. “thank you for apologizing. are you ready to eat some dinner or do you want to freshen up first?”

either choice doesn’t matter, he’d rather do whatever it is that you’re doing.

so yeah, john likes women who put him in his place. it turns him on a bit.

#john price x reader #captain john price x reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cw: daddy kink #but not really #just a mention of it #idk i just really picture john being uncomfortably by baby talk with his partner #he’s not into babying people that are not actually babies #cod #my writing #also #call of duty x reader

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the-californicationist · 14 days

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Hello🐻❤

Military!Biker!Price ?

I mean... Repaired a motorcycle, ride a biker

I love you Cali ❤🫂

I love you too @leixy and I’m so sorry for the wait!! Hope you enjoy the story 🩷🩷

MDNI

Storm Chaser

The rumble that you heard just outside of your garage may have been mistaken for thunder. The skies were gray, and as they rolled across the firmament, you knew they’d linger, soaking the ground and making the soil black with its fallen waters. But, this wasn’t a thundercall. This was a Triumph.

A giant, hulking man, laden with muscle and black leather gear, rolled into your mechanic shop’s driveway on a blacked out, stealthy Triumph Storm GT. Its rider’s face was covered in a full helmet, and as he slowed to a stop, his heavy boot dug into the shale, catching the center of the bike and sitting up straight, killing the enormous engine.

He looked at you. You knew he was looking at you because there was no one else to look at. You saw yourself in the black mirror of his visor, and all around you were the empty fields surrounding your shop, the tall grass roiling in the wind.

The gloves came off first, and you indulged in his hands. They seemed monstrous; a thin dusting of dark hair covered his skin, and each finger looked like it might have been wider than two of your own. His nails were clean, which surprised you for some reason, and there was a nasty scar along his right palm.

He fiddled with his helmet, unlatching the buckle, and then yanked it over his head.

Shit. You cursed inside of your mind. He’s hot as hell.

You’d been drooling over the bike, but the man sweetened the deal. He was ruggedly handsome, and his movements were so easy. It was like being in the presence of a magician, as if he knew all the secrets and delighted in hiding them from you. He was so certain, so sure of his tricks, and you waited on him to break the spell he’d put on you.

“Alright, love? How’s it goin’?”

He held out his hand for you to shake, and it warmed you like a fire. His grip was firm but careful, and he let you go without a shake. You smiled,

“All good. Slow day,” you pointed upwards, “No one but you out in this weather.”

He chuckled, and you fell for him even harder. His mirth was contagious. He looked up at the darkening sky and told you,

“Aye, it was pourin’ cats and dogs a few minutes ago. Chasin’ me here, I’ll wager. Thought I’d wait it out here. Maybe get the service I’m due for.”

“This bike’s brand new,” you scoffed, “How did you put ten thousand miles on it already?”

He gave you a half-grin and admitted with a shrug,

“I like to get away.”

You nodded, and he dismounted, unzipping his jacket for comfort. You gave the bike a once-over, checking for any signs of trouble. As new as it was, you’d already been trained on it, so you felt confident you could help him. You mentioned your plan,

“Oil, brake pads, filters. Check your sensors. My Triumph cert is up to date, so we’ll just clean her up by the book. How does that sound, mister…?”

“Price. John Price. Sounds class, love.”

“Waiting room just in there, John,” you pointed over to the tiny little sitting room you’d added to the garage, “Got a library and some coffee. Should be fresh. Just made a new pot a few minutes ago.”

“Cheers,” he smiled, and it was the most handsome one you’d seen in a while. His full lips stretched into his cheeks, and his tanned skin crinkled up to his eyes.

The eyes themselves were a problem. They were a hue of blue you’d never seen, and they pinned you down like a wild animal, a hunter and his prey. But, all of that ferality was tied taut, held by a rope in his clenched fist, and his gnashing hungry teeth were kept from biting you, controlled by his tight-laced civility. All of that chivalry made you wonder what he was like when he was allowed a little freedom.

As he walked away from you, you ogled him. You weren’t even ashamed to do it. He was everything you wanted in a man. Him and his bike oozed a primal sort of power that you’d been craving, and you wanted a taste of that freedom.

His bike was his escape, that was for sure. Ten thousand mile service after only a few months of ownership was impressive. This man liked to ride long and often. There was plenty of evidence of wear and tear, but as rough as he had been with his ride, there was evidence of his love as well. The clean body, the mended tailpipe, evidence of a scuff polished away; it was all proof of his affection.

The service was easy and quick. As you were checking his sensors and finishing up the job, the first pitter patter of rain began to fall into the gravel drive. In the beginning, it was soft and sweet, just a few drops here and there. Then, over the short span of mere moments, it came down in a torrential pour, slamming itself into the ground and pummeling the pavement.

You watched it slip and slide off of your metal roof in sheets, and you got close enough to the edge so that you could feel the cool spray from the downpour, a few droplets spitting onto your nose and cheeks. A bright blue bolt of lightning streaked across the cloudy pall, followed by a deafening roar of thunder that resonated in the hollow of your chest.

Cleaning the oil from your hands as best you could, you went to deliver the bill to your customer. To your sick delight, he’d be trapped with you at least until the storm passed, and you crossed your fingers that he could do with a bit of company.

He was sitting on the wide couch in the waiting room, his hands prying open a book. When you looked at the spine, you noticed that he was deep into the first few chapters of Moby Dick.

“Having fun yet, John?”

“Enjoying the rain on this tin roof of yours. Makes me want to kip down here on your sofa. Love to fall asleep listenin’ to the storm.”

“Me, too,” you admit, nodding towards the book, “Has he caught the whale yet?”

John shook his head,

“No, we barely got out of the harbor. You work fast. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me though, love. I don’t fancy a ride out in this mess.”

“No problem. Take all the time you need.”

“D’ya mind?” He dug around in his jacket and pulled out a short, fat cigar.

You waved him on, motioning that it was alright with you, and he happily lit his stick, working an ambery, glowing tip until fiery smoke spilled from the end. You were about to turn and hide somewhere else, anywhere that you wouldn’t need to smell his burnt, woodsy scent. It was making you hungry for a puff of his cigar and a long lick of the inside of his mouth.

A little self-control please… You begged yourself.

He caught you as you started to leave, and the feeling of his hand on his surprised you with its warm sincerity. You looked down at him, but you didn’t pull away.

“Stay… for a bit. I was just gettin’ to the good part,” he said with a sly smile, holding up the book as if to offer it to you.

“Alright,” you replied, your voice sounding too small and too quiet in the small space.

You sat next to him, worrying over your oil-stained nails as he read aloud to you, pausing every now and then to smoke his cigar or to turn his pages. Slowly, you started to relax, and as you leaned back into the couch, the sound of his voice and the drumming of the rain blended together into a soporific haze. You caught yourself looking at him — staring at him — with hooded eyes, studying the way his lips and tongue and teeth formed his words. The dark bristles of his beard giving you a clear view of every micro-movement of his face.

He was looking at you, now, too. Staring at you. Every now and then, he’d glance back at the book, read a few lines, and then take a long pause to smoke and to meet your gaze.

Suddenly, he seemed to make a conscious choice. He sat forward, and his huge shoulders cast a shadow over you. He held out his cigar and asked,

“Fancy a smoke?”

You didn’t reply, but you took it from him ever so slowly, as if he might bite, and put the end in your mouth. You sucked in the smoke to taste the rich tobacco, and you let it roll around in your mouth before releasing it, letting it hit him in the chest and neck, billowing around his stoney jawline.

Then, he said something to you in a new voice. It was one you knew, but you hadn’t heard it in a very long time. It was desire,

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you, love?”

You let his compliment wash over you like the downpour outside. It soaked through, right to your bones. You took another drag from the cigar, earning yourself a deeper chuckle and a pleased, approving grin.

“You should see me when I’m out of these coveralls,” you quipped, certain that your smudged cheeks were now a rosy shade of crimson.

He took the cigar back from you and put the book down, leaning closer to you, positioning his knee between yours, forcing you to spread your legs. He smoked, filling the space between you, taking another drag for himself, breathing in and breathing out, trying to test the waters,

“Care to show me now?”

You met his smoldering gaze. The tip of his cigar had nothing on the glow from behind his eyes. He was poised and ready to pounce, a lion on a lamb.

You didn’t answer him. You simply watched as he unzipped your work coveralls and let the sleeves slink down your arms. You pulled them free, revealing what was underneath. You were braless, letting your heavy tits lay unbound in the soft fabric of your ribbed tank, preferring comfort over fashion.

His hand came up to cup your cheek, rubbing some of the smudged oil with his thumb. He leaned forward even further, breathing heavily with you, panting like he had run for miles, all for the sole purpose of brushing your sensitive bottom lip with his own, teasing you with your own taste, hungry for your body and ready to consume you in every way he knew how.

He began to kiss you slowly, languidly, as if you were both trapped in some world of slow motion where time need not exist. You need not be bothered with the past or the future. The present was enough, and it stretched between you forever. Each kiss deeper than the last, each touch more sensual, making your breath catch in your chest.

John pulled away from you, slowly untangling himself, looking at you as if he had been keeping some smoldering question inside of his chest. He moved so slowly, telegraphing his motions so you would know his intent. Rapt, you watched his hand drop to the hem of your tank, his thick fingers dancing along the seam, carefully pulling it away so that his warm hand could slide underneath.

Your whole body shuddered as his palm spread across your soft belly. His callused hands were rough against your skin, and the way he grabbed at you, greedy yet slow and savoring, made you feel like he had hypnotized you. You were frozen in place, submitting to his desire.

He looked up into your eyes, checking with you to see if you would allow him to venture further and then moving further anyway, unable to quell his lurid hunger. His fingers found the swell of your breast, the heavy flesh hanging like ripe, sweet fruit, ready to be tasted. A thumb slipped across your nipple, encouraging it to tighten into a little peak, just plump enough to fit into his wet mouth.

Without lifting your shirt off of you, he bent his head and suckled on your taut nipple through its fabric. He wet the cloth and your skin, and when he pulled his mouth away, the dampness lingered, teasing you with the memory and lingering on you, chilling your flesh. Another swipe of his thumb and you heard yourself let out quiet little mewls, whining and needy. His immediate, chuffed grin made you blush with shame.

So, you took your revenge. You reached your hand across the supple leather of his riding pants and found the tip of his fat cock hanging trapped and turgid halfway down his muscular thigh. You used your finger to draw tiny circles around his head, knowing he could feel it. To your satisfaction, his eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensation.

Then, his hands plundered under your top, scrunching the fabric up to your collar, revealing your skin to him. As you messaged his heavy cock, you watched him sigh as he admired your curves, drinking you in like a desert palm, his hard root stretching towards its oasis.

“Take me out, love. Please,” he begged you softly, kissing you between his gentle whispering words, and you knew what he wanted.

You yanked at his button to pop it off, and you pinched at the zipper, listening to the metallic whir of its teeth as you freed him.

He wasn’t wearing anything under his leathers, which drove you wild. He must have been so sensitive during his ride, feeling every bit of the garment’s texture and folds as he straddled his machine.

You reached for him and he let out a dark groan. His voice became threatening all at once, and he grabbed at you with all of his might, drawing your attention with his words,

“Both hands… ungh, ahh, please. Please touch me with both of your hands, love.”

There was plenty of his length for you to comply, and even with both of your hands, his swollen, rigid girth was still a challenge to manage. You focused on his head, watching as his whole body responded to your touch.

John pulled you in for another kiss, forcing his tongue down your throat, filling your mouth with his heat, crushing you to his chest, abandoning all of his earlier tenderness in favor of lustful fury.

As he ravaged your mouth, you felt his cock slipping through your hands on its own and you realized that he was using his hips to thrust himself through your grip. You tried to help him, matching his pace, but that only spurred on his carnal want.

He was moaning into your mouth, and you could feel the hum of his joy against your lips. With each shameless thrust, he cried for you in that dark brimstone timbre, aching and full of longing.

“John…” you whispered, breaking away to catch your breath, saying his name like a prayer.

Adding to the drama, a long peal of thunder shattered the sky, killing the lights in your shop. But, you were both so worked up by one another, the shock of a blown fuse paled in comparison, and your eyes stayed locked on each other’s, bound together, unable to look away. Unwilling.

But, he paused, staring at you, wanting something from you, something more.

You gasped when he lifted you, rumpled clothes and all, right off the couch. He shouldered the door to the tiny room and walked quickly to his bike sitting you sideways on the seat. You braced yourself with one hand on the tank and one on the tail, waiting for his next whim.

He was working on your clothes, peeling off your coveralls and shucking off your layers until he found your panties. When he saw the fabric, he paused. You fretted for a moment until you felt the cool, stormy wind blow across the damp gusset. Then, you knew what he was looking at. You were soaking through your panties, and there he was, transfixed on the darkening stain.

“Wanna taste you, love. Want you in my mouth…”

John fell to his knees in a flash, his cock still free and flagging up and down, wet with his precome. You squirmed a bit, unsure of your scent and your sweat from your earlier work.

Those gentle eyes had been replaced with a sinister warning. He pinned you with them as if to say, move away and I’ll bloody drag you back.

He didn’t bother to kiss the softness of your belly nor your thighs. He wanted one thing, but you didn’t expect him to take you quite like this. He didn’t peel down your panties, instead eating you right through the thin cotton, sucking on the wet cloth and making lewd squelching noises, lapping his tongue over your soaking lips and sucking at your flavor with his eager lips.

“Oh, shit…” You lamented, feeling your body go slack, submitting to him and his power.

“Fuck…” He said between bites of his meal, “You’re so sweet… Let me… ungh, fuckin’ hell…”

He used his thumb to tug the fabric aside, revealing your gleaming pink flesh. And when he tasted you, skin on skin, John became obsessed. He was pushing his strong jaw so hard into you, working you with his mouth, making you rake your fingers through his hair just to hold onto something, you were afraid the bike might tip.

In one ruthless motion, he tore your panties from you, ripping the sides and tucking the ruined fabric into his fist. Then, he put that same hand on his cock and began to jerk himself off, rubbing your wet cloth all over his cockhead.

With his free hand, he grabbed the handlebar of the bike, pulling it down towards him, preventing it from falling, now able to eat you with as much reckless abandon as he liked.

His mouth moved in long, deep thrusts, fucking you with his scruffy face, suckling at the hardening body of your clit. His tongue pressed into your swollen lips, moving between them with forceful need. As he licked you, he moved lower and lower towards your wet hole, hoping to thrust his writhing muscle inside of you, wanting nothing more than to lick you dry.

Finally, he reached it, and the tip of his tongue slipped into your pussy, pressing through your slit and fucking you like his cock wanted to. You heard him elicit a gravelly, smoldering whine when he tasted your smooth center, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in his head, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

Meanwhile, the rain pounded in the open garage doorway, swirling and spitting under its ebon shroud. John cared very little about it, nor did he care that you and he were nearly naked, in full view of the street. The idea that anyone could drive up and see you there, caught in his jaws, made you lose control.

You tried to hold your voice down, but once he felt you start to come, he did everything he could to set you ablaze. His hand abandoned the handlebar, preferring instead to sink two of his large fingers inside of you, working with his tongue to stretch you open, giving him more of your ripeness to devour.

You keened like you were on fire, and maybe you were. You thought, as the flames licked up your legs and down your arms, that maybe you would burn right up. Maybe you were a flare, ready to sear a bright scorching light through his mouth, burning his throat like whiskey, brutal and cruel.

Your whole body had given in to the feeling as if you were an orchestra at the mercy of its conductor. If he wanted your kindling to catch, it would, and you would burn for him. You were his opus, trapped in a perpetual crescendo of his lust, an expression of his own fiery fate.

His mouth only left your body to cry out in his own right, growling out a breathless groan as he spilled his come into your panties, smearing his cock through his own emission and mixing it with yours.

Unable to maintain your balance, and unwilling to jeopardize his bike, you sank to the floor with him, feeling the cold concrete on your shins. John tugged you into his lap, panting into your neck, smelling strongly of your scent, his face and beard shining with it.

You breathed together, fondling what you could reach, cradling each other as if you’d found one another again after years apart. Penelope clutching at her Odysseus, recognizing him through a sea of lesser men.

“You alright, love?” John asked, still catching his breath, petting your cheek absentmindedly.

You nodded, affirming your well-being,

“Mmhm. You?”

“Aye,” he smiled, laughing quietly to himself, “But, now you’ve gone and done it.”

“What?” You smiled, enjoying his joy.

“Didn’t think runnin’ from the rain would be such a fuckin’ good time. Now, when it rains, I’ll be craving you.”

You smiled at him, letting him kiss your neck and cheek, planting his affection like little promises, deep under your skin.

“You’re always welcome back, rain or shine.”

“How about tonight at six; dinner at my flat?” He looked up at you, hopeful.

“As long as I get to ride this bike, it’s a date,” you teased.

He raised his eyebrows at your challenge, and then he gave you a lascivious grin,

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve got just the ride in mind.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

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#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x you #call of duty #captain price x reader #captain price x female reader #motorcycle #captain price smut #captain john price smut #cali answers asks

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dreddedwheat · 1 year

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Spiderverse Spoilers: My thoughts on The Spot

Okay so, Across the Spiderverse had fucking great characters - Hobie Brown (Spider-Punk), Miguel O'hara (Spider-Man 2099) and of course, Pavitr Prabhakar (Spider-Man India). All are absolute stand-outs, they're all fucking sick, there's no other way of putting it.

This film is an easy 10/10. But I was really impressed with what they did with The Spot.

I'm a big critic of 'silly' villains from comic-books being reduced to one note comedy characters in favour of edgier but much blander villains.

The Spot is a perfect example of how you can have a villain be silly, and remain that way, and still have him be intimidating as all hell.

Spoilers below, reader beware

So first of all, The Spot doesn't actually change that much as a character throughout the film. True we don't see much of him aside from the first fight with Miles and his appearance in Mumbattan, but every time we do he's pretty much the same...in terms of personality.

He's a great subversion of expectations, and I really didn't expect him to be THE villain of the whole film (aside from Miguel ofc). He gets much stronger naturally, and yet he remains this rather relaxed, awkward and aloof person.

He seems completely detached and obsessed with Spider-Man. Not in a teeth-gnashing, Green Goblin-like manner though. He holds a grudge, and wants to see it through to the point he doesn't even flinch at the idea of destroying the universe to do so.

And I love how they use his body-language to convey this. At first he's hunched and awkward, with a paunch and generally pathetic in motion. But the more powerful becomes, the more relaxed he is, slinking about and being almost graceful but with the exact same physique.

He doesn't get more confident, he always was, because he's self-centred (literally if you remember that one scene). I mean he fucking robs a guy, and spends the whole time basically complaining and whining that this is a 'bad experience' for him because someone's standing up to him.

For The Spot, he simply is Spider-Man's nemesis and that means he's totally justified in doing whatever it takes to destroy his life. It's the "Welp, guess I'm evil" approach but done much better.

It takes a character so easily dismissed and makes him a much more grounded and effective villain in every conceivable way.

I'm sure we'll get more insight into his backstory, and probably have more serious grounding with his motivation. But for now the utterly casual nature of him is what makes him so much fun to watch, and almost scary in a way.

#Spiderverse #Across the Spiderverse #Miguel O'hara #Hobie Brown #The Spot #pavitr prabhakar #Spider-man #Spider-man 2099

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good-omens-classic · 10 months

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It's soooooo fucking funny to me that classic omens book fandom is still collectively fuming about the dove resurrection in the TV show whereas TV show fans literally do not care at all. We're foaming at the mouth holding a grudge for years declaring Neiman our rival while he toils on oblivious to how Seriously we take it and TV show people are like I love the show :) and if you tell them about the dove resurrection problem they go oh you're right! Oh well. And we just keep wailing and gnashing our teeth because we hate it so so much and we're going to give ourselves a heart attack and TV show fandom is just normal about it enjoying an entertainment product made for their entertainment. We're correct but we're also unhinged about it. I literally cannot explain to the average normal person my feelings about good omens the franchise because it's way, way too complicated and I'm this way because I had internet brainrot from years of looking at jpgs on Tumblr dot net. Sorry.

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confusedraven1 · 8 months

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i absolutely love that jim is the one to keep the heart of stede’s crew alive while ed did everything he could to destroy it.

one of the first comments ed makes to stede’s crew in season 1 is “everyone’s covered in rope!” so what does jim do? literally covers themself in rope, to remind ed that, as long as they’re alive, that hope and love isn’t going anywhere.

not only that, but, in the bible, rope is a symbolism for trust and security. jim became a secure place for the crew to tie themselves to while just trying to stay alive.

of course, i then had to look into why they have a fishing net around their shoulders as well, and found The Fishing Net Parable from the Book of Matthew (13:47-52):

"Once again, the kingdom of heaven is like a net that was let down into the lake and caught all kinds of fish. When it was full, the fishermen pulled it up on the shore. Then they sat down and collected the good fish in baskets, but threw the bad away.”

“This is how it will be at the end of the age. The angels will come and separate the wicked from the righteous and throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

jim amputates izzy’s leg, despite having never done it before. they quite literally separate him from the rotten bits to save his life.

jim says, “he was your friend.” they separate ed from who he was before from who he’s allowed himself to become, not to punish him, but to remind him of the consequences of his actions.

jim tells izzy point blank, “you’re in an unhealthy relationship with blackbeard.” they aren’t trying to break them up; they’re just bringing to light whats true so things can (hopefully) get better.

jim shows archie that, just because pirating is normally done a certain way, doesn’t mean it has to��they separate archie from the toxic belief that “that’s just how things are, it’s just life,” and “why save him if he’s a dick?”

jim tries to separate the idea from the crew that ed is fine, because they immediately recognize that things are about to get much worse: “so, do we think he’s better?” “FUCK no!”

jim immediately says, “wasn’t the wedding thing a bit over the line?” they know they’re all pirates and have questionable morals anyway, but knows it was fucked up of them to massacre a wedding, an event that’s supposed to be joyful and full of life and beginnings, not death and destruction. they’re, again, dividing up the way things are vs. how they could (and should) be.

ed tries to pin them all dying on jim cause they wouldn’t kill archie, but they bite back with, “you would’ve done it anyway!” they know exactly where the lies are, and separates them from the truth, and ed can’t deny it.

jim separates themself (and olu) from the bounds of monogamy through their honesty. olu is still their best friend and lover and family even though they found and did things with someone else.

jim holds out their hand for olu to take when they’re escaping the red flag. olu’s interest in zheng yi sao isn’t bad and jim’s not trying to separate them, but is trying to keep together the things that are good: their family.

(later addition, edit) jim is also the one that “kills” ed. they’re the one to make that final choice, to say, “it’s you or us.” jim’s actions and choices entire first two episodes led them to that moment, like it was the “final judgment” of blackbeard.

jim is the rope and net of the crew. they’re trust and security and honesty, everything that stede was trying to get the crew to understand from day 1, everything stede is always trying to embody (and i dare say is starting to succeed at).

#jim jimenez #jim jimenez meta #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 spoilers #crew of the revenge #rope and nets #ofmd costuming #trust and security and honesty #god i love them #vico ortiz #david jenkins #characterization #costume analysis #character analysis #ofmd meta

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thesharktanksdriver · 1 year

Text

Being Jason Todd's kid (Platonic)

Warning: at the beginning y/n has a shitty mom and neglectful (+abandoning them) plus a mention of Jason’s death of being beaten

You knew for a long time your mom didn’t love you, even your young 8 year old mind could tell

From the way she looked at you with disdain and disgust

She was still your mom though so you loved her

Loved her despite the yelling and sending you to your room with a granola bar as your dinner

It was fine

Everything was fine

All you had to do was keep doing your best to make her love you like in the books you’d read at school

So you did your best to appease her

You’d bring her the sticks that would create the smelly wisps of smoke that would stain her gnashing teeth as she yelled at you

Or bring in the amber coloured drink in glass bottle she liked

You tried it once cause the tap didn’t make water anymore but you didn’t like it

It felt as if it was burning your throat and tongue as it slithered down your parched throat like venom from a snake

When she feel asleep on her chair you’d place a blanket around her but left the tv on

She got mad at you cause of that the first time

You made rules in your mind on how to properly dance around the tiggers that would make her angry

Some you didn’t really understand as to why she got angry over it but you avoided it anyways

Just keeping quiet and silently going about your day to make her as happy as you could

She never took you out much, often leaving you at home when she’d get groceries or went to work

But as a surprise she told you that you’d be going with her to carry the bags

It was night, but you didn’t mind it much since you’d always preferred it

Made getting your mom the smelly sticks easier when it was the man at the cashier at 711

Eventually as you walk further into the city with her you see that your in an area you’d never been before

It’s scary, really scary but you don’t say a word

You don’t say anything when she tells you to wait at the curb beneath a streetlight as she walks off

Cold concrete kissing your palms as you sit there, a lone 8 year old waiting

Still wearing pyjamas and barefoot as the cold chill of the night began to set in

It’s nothing you can’t handle, besides she’d be back soon

She said she would

And if your actions were right you couldn’t break a promise

She’s just taking awhile is all

Maybe it was busy!, yeah that had to be it

People were just busy shopping cause they were at work in the day

So you wait some more

And some more

And now your shaking as you hug yourself

You can’t go home cause you don’t k is the way back and your afraid to leave incase she came back and got mad

There’s a slight chatter sound as your teeth clatter from how much your shaking

The tears feel so cold against your cheeks that you swear they might become frozen to them

There isn’t any noise except for the occasional honk streets away, the night is calm

Until there’s a marsh crash and curses come from the alleyway across from where you sit

It makes you go still and tense

Until a man exits it wearing an odd red mask with glowy eyes

He stumbles out and curses with a weird almost electric sound to his voice before he locks eyes with you

“Oi kid!, what are you doing out so late and alone?”

He takes as step forwards and you scoot back a little bit, still shaking as he now notices how your not wearing much on a cold night

He takes off his jacket

“If I give you my jacket will you tell me your name?”

“I heard I’m not supposed to talk to strangers…can you tell me your name?”

At this nods and as he got closer you dont back away like before

You let him place the large jacket over your shoulders, it’s big and bulky and reminds you of a blanket with the fluff on the inside

He says his name is red hood, something that makes your eyes light up with familiarity

You’d heard about him from your mom watched the news, mentions if the name but never what he looked like

There was also something with him and Batman? But you didn’t really know a lot about it from the snippets you heard

“Does that mean your a hero?.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that. But close enough”

“That’s cool, mom said that hero’s were a sham. I always thought their cool, I’m y/n by the way”

“Kid how old are you?, what are you doing out here?”

You go to hold your fingers up to show him but you don’t remember what’s past five

Mom pulled you out of preschool saying she’d Homeschool you but never did

Whatever you had learned was from tv and the limited books you could read

You begin to tear up in frustration

“Hey it’s ok kid. Second question then, what are you doing out here”

“Mom said she needed groceries and she let me come this time so I can carry the bags. She said that I had to wait here till she’s come back”

He goes rigid at that but you don’t notice

You curl up in a ball and zip up the coat around you

Now properly protecting you from the cold except for your feet

“Mr hood can you wait with me. I don’t wanna be alone”

“Sure thing”

So he sits himself beside you on the curb

To pass the time he pulls out a small book labeled “pride and prejudice” and begins reading it to you

It’s nice having someone to read with

He uses different voice for different characters, giving them posh accents that make you giggle

But as time ticks on he notices how your shoulders droop more

Along with your smile

Eventually he stops reading and puts his book away

“She said she’d come back…she’s coming back right?”

It sounds so broken as you ask this, you turn your head to look at him and he sees your reddened eyes that have tears lining them

The only sounds you can make are choked sobs and sniffles as the masked vigilante pulls you into a hug

You grab onto him tightly, small hands digging into the metal plating of his armour

Afraid he’d leave as well just as everyone else in your life did

“Do you have a dad you can go to?”

“Mom said he left because of me…so I don’t think so. Do you think if I go home she’d be mad at me?”

He feels his heart shatter a bit at that and he doesn’t know how to respond other than gently rubbing the back of your head

Jason at this point in his life knows he’s not in the best place to care for himself let alone a kid. He’s a walking corpse back from the dead, wanting to get revenge as his mind unscrambles itself day by day

But as you sob he knows he can’t let go

Those memories of his mother staining his mind along with the sound of your crying

The betrayal similar to this where she willingly led her child to a certain death

He also doesn’t trust the foster care system nor any system for a matter of fact

He’s seen his share of messed up kids that have been created through them

So in that moment Jason makes an impulsive decision he wouldn’t ever regret

“Do…do you wanna come with me then?. You gotta keep my identity a secret though, k?”

“O-ok Mr hood”

“Just call me Jason kid”

Yeah so first couple weeks Jason struggles since he hasn’t exactly looked after a child before

Your an independent kid from the conditions you lived in before but that makes him worry quite a bit

Especially when you have a small snack and call it a dinner

So he just takes small steps, and also reads parenting books…a lot of them actually

He still has to set you up a room so he lets you take his bed while he sleeps on the couch

It’s easier that way cause he’s afraid of accidentally hurting you while having a nightmare

Which he still gets quite frequently

You don’t seem to mind, just thanking him for sleeping in a nice bed and having blankets that properly keep you warm

Before you came along he kinda just got takeout but he knows that isn’t the healthiest thing so he actually starts cooking

He’s pretty decent at it due to helping Alfred and for like the first time in your life you have a proper meal

You have to hold back tears and it makes his heart crack a bit at the sight

Jason hires an online teacher before sending you to school due to the fact your a bit behind in what a child your age needs to know and he doesn’t trust that Gotham is safe enough yet

Speaking of which he’s protective, like real protective for good reason though

He’s still running around at night with Bruce chasing him along with Gotham being a cesspool

So it’s safe to say that it’s not exactly a safe place for you

Won’t admit it but he purposefully buys you clothes that are red cause he thinks it’s cute

Especially if you say you want more red cause it reminds you of him

100% makes it a tradition to read a chapter of a book to you each day and teaches you to read better through it

He gets better from time and experience

Whenever he comes home battered and angry he makes sure to take his anger out on something before he heads into the apartment

He doesn’t wanna accidentally scare you or snap by accident

You try to help him with his wounds (as best as an 8 year old can) and he melts

Another thing that makes him melt is when he walked in on you trying on his helmet and leather jacket

He laughed and then played with you before putting on some ABBA that y’all danced to

It takes awhile but once he gets your room set up he’s really proud and happy with himself for once when seeing your smile

It was when you thank him that you accidentally called him dad

You freeze and go to apologize but he just hugs you

And you feel tears hit your shoulder

“No it’s ok, yeah I’m your dad now kid”

When your about 10-13 he sends you to school since your properly caught up and he thinks it’s probably best you make friends

He’s already at this point gotten you a fake ID with a new last name since he knows if you have Todd then Bruce is gonna look into it

While he isn’t trying to get revenge anymore he’s still not on the best of terms with the old man

A metaphorical wall between them that leaves Bruce at a distance

Jason likes it this way though since no one knows about you

Giving you a relatively normal life

Now that your a bit older he shows you some of his favourite tv even if it’s still not the most age appropriate thing for you to watch

But as long as no one knows you can watch Buffy but shhhh

Loves binging series with you but also enjoys watching movies as well like lost boys

He’s got a soft spot for older films that will probably be transferred to you

Oh and murder mysteries like knives out (Damn you Bruce)

You don’t remember your birthday so he uses the day he found you as it

And at this age he goes 100% on them

Like guess whos gonna go see hadestown?!?

By god he loves you so much, like goes from big intimidating vigilante to gentle little shit when he gets home

Sometimes you try to stay up late to be awake when he gets home

You usually fall asleep and it always makes his heart warm and fuzzy at the sight of it

Definitely takes you around on his motorcycle and makes you your own helmet to match his

You best bet your gonna be the fucking coolest kid in school with the leather jacket he gets you

He teaches you how to defend yourself and stick up for others

And not to let people step over you

Sure he gets some calls from the office but when he hears little Tommy was being a dick he’s taking you to get Dairy Queen and a pat on the back

You also get a lot of his sass as well

Like you’ve gotten in trouble several times for being a smart ass to terrible teachers

He affectionately calls you “little shit” “ankle bitter” “kid” and “brat”

In return you tease him for having white hair and calling him “old man”

At this point he hasn’t told you about Bruce and his revival but you know he has something against Batman

And for now he leaves it at that since he would prefer to tell you when your a bit older since your still a kid

No matter what he’ll get it into your head to NEVER become a hero or vigilante

Seeing him come home battered and bruised is enough to convince you of that though

Along with that he also teaches you about picking and choosing fights and when to know that you should get help

He doesn’t show up to pta meetings at Gotham academy cause he’s kinda scare Bruce is gonna be there and have some questions

There have definitely been some times while taking you out for something that he narrowly avoided his family

Speaking of which despite them not knowing about you, you actually know about them

Jason actually entrusts you with the information that their the bat family to you since he knows you won’t tell anyone

Even if you did it would sound like a kid spouting off fun theories

You once called Nightwing a dick for a joke and he turned around all confused until he realized what you said

When you told Jason he laughed his ass off about it

Every year for Halloween he lets you borrow one of his spare masks and y’all go out for trick or treating

At the end of it you guys have a tradition of eating some of your spoils of candy on a rooftop overlooking Gotham

When you become a teenager he’s surprisingly really good at dealing with you

Partially because Jason’s still a grungy teen at heart lol

Y’all don’t really have misunderstandings since he puts effort into making some communication is key

Unlike with Bruce who he feels never tried to see his viewpoint Jason makes sure to see your one on topics and issues

But that’s the rare case you guys actually have a discussion like that

Jason actually really happy if you start dating and isn’t really bothered by it?

He knows you can handle yourself and trusts your judge of characters unless he gets reallly off vibes about them

Like serial killer kinda vibes

Then he’s stepping In

If you do have a bad break up though he’s 100% taking you to egg that persons house

And the he takes you to a nice dinner while you both shit talk or if your not feeling up to that he gets ice cream and y’all watch your favourite happy movie

Whatever career you want to pursue you can bet that he will support you

He’s your biggest cheerleader and if it came to it he’d get Pompom’s to prove a point

If you don’t know where you wanna go that’s fine as well!

He doesn’t fucking know what he’s doing with his life either lol and he certainly doesn’t have a conventional job (that’s for sure)

He’s super happy if you begin experimenting with different styles especially if it’s something kinda alt, grunge or punk

Cause then you both can match and he can give you some of his old stuff he’d think you like

At this point in your life he’d be really happy if you share some of your favourite music with him

He has a lot of range and versatility in his playlists but he isn’t as up to date with modern music as he’d like to be

He’d probably really like Doja cat, tame impala, Lovejoy, and Mitski

God if you show him Mitski expect to one day find him crying whilst listening to it

If you ask him what’s wrong he’ll just say “it’s one of those days” (Me)

Speaking of which, this is the time where Jason actually opens up about why he has nightmares so often and why he hated Bruce

It’s definitely a bit jarring to hear about him being beaten to death and then revived

And you definitely get a bit upset that Bruce didn’t do anything to really get revenge on the joker

Though you know your view is biased from being Jason’s kid and watching him growing up have full on horrific nightmares that would make him wake up screaming

How his mom betrayed him as well

It’s a big thing for him to talk about since he usually prefers to not relive those memories in his mind

But he knows that you’d learn eventually and he’d prefer if it was from his mouth

For him to tell about his trauma when he felt that both of you were ready

You feel closer to him in heart

And you hug him like when he had found you all those years ago

And Jason finds himself content

Any concert you want to go to he’s probably tagging along since he enjoys those type of events

Even if it’s for a musician that isn’t his favourite

He finds any hobby you have or anything you wanna collect

Cause he wants you to be happy and even if he doesn’t get it per say seeing your smile makes him understand

If it’s something he also likes though then be prepared cause your sharing that collection with him

And you both are gonna geek out over shit

He still reads to you as a small tradition you’ve both continued since him taking you in

Just you snuggled beside him in a cocoon of blankets as he reads a book of your recommendation aloud

A vinyl playing on a low level in the background

That alone pushes him to never give up when on patrol

He has you to return to, he has someone who he cared for more than his own life

The only bit of normality he has in his life after being thrown into the bubbling green waters of the Lazarus pit. Coming back as a broken and lost man hellbent on revenge and lingering rage

And of fucking course it’s during one of these nights as he’s reading Carmila that Bruce and Dick decide to drop by

“What the?!- Jason who the hell’s that?!?”

“Do we lie orrr?” “Can’t lie to em kid, their like living lie detectors” “those don’t even properly work though, you can cheat them easily” “it was an analogy”

“Can still hear y-“

“Shut up dick”

“They know?”

“Yeah well…of course I’d tell my kid about you guys”

“I’m an uncle?!?. How long have you had them?!?, how?!”

“How old are they?”

“I’m right here you know, Stop talking as if I’m not you geezers”

Haha yeah….Bruce is having a crisis realizing he’s technically a grandpa now

Hurray

There are like 2000 things going on in his mind right now and he definitely needs a chair to sit down on

He’s still in his costume so his emotions aren’t really showing but you can definitely tell he’s not ok by how he’s leaning against the wall looking kinda faint

He happy but at the same time he’s kinda upset that Jason never told him

Like, you’ve had a kid for years and never told me, your dad?!?

Jason definitely needs to have a talk with him and explain his side of the situation (which you practically force the two of them to do)

He’s kinda akward around you but not in a bad way, moreso in the “so kiddo what do you kids like these days” kinda way

He’s missed out on countless years of your life and didn’t even know you existed up until now and now your suddenly revealed to be his grandkid

He has like years of birthdays, Christmas’s, Easter’s and every other fucking holidays to catch up on

He starring holes into you by accident and your dad has to lightly smack his arm to tell him to stop lol

He means well though and you know that

Meanwhile Dick is ecstatic cause he’s an uncle!!

He’s already ready to brag to everyone he knows about it and be like “pshh that cool but I’m now an uncle”

Bro’s sitting beside you and asking everything about your interests and achievements

It’s kinda sweet since he’s just nodding along adding “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” every once in awhile

It reminds you a bit of a golden retriever

But with that also comes the little devil on your shoulder tempting you to mess with him a bit

And you do so

“I have the best insults from here to metropolis”

“Want to prove that?”

“Sure. I bet you have so much ass hair that when you have diarrhea it comes out as filtered water”

They quickly learn you have Jason’s mouth if not worse

Wither you or Jason realize it or not your both alike in more ways than one

#platonic #dc x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader

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incorrectbatfam · 11 months

Note

He~llo! I hope you are doing well (^･ω･^)ﾉ"

*just having a good time, pretending to sound like a formal nobleperson* Can I request a good helping of Super Sons content from the lovely @incorrectbatfam, please? A mixture of fluff and angst shall do it.

Annoying middle school Super Sons my beloved

Jon refused to eat meat for a week after Damian told him the ghosts of all the dead animals were going to haunt him. Damian is no longer allowed to convert people to veganism

The Kents thought there were snakes in the backyard. Turns out it was just Damian hiding in the grass, hissing

Instead of windows, Jon enters the Manor through the chimney. Imagine being Jason, reading a book by the fireplace, when suddenly FWOOMP

Jon asked him what's it like to die. Damian lied and said it didn't hurt at all

They played pretend as Batman and Superman. Damian was "Superman but smarter" and Jon was "Batman but cool." Bruce and Clark just watched like: …

They're at that wonderful age where if Alfred or Lois take them shopping, they'll grab a pack of tampons and shout across the aisles, "HEY, WHAT ARE THESE?"

They also make Tim and Kon feel old by asking what flip phones are

They get into a debate about whether Jason's resurrection resets his age and if he's technically 8 rather than 23

Damian teaches Jon how to curse. Clark hears it from miles away and flies over just to ground Jon

After that, to see if their parents are listening to them, they'll pretend to plan something blatantly stupid and reckless then wait for a phone call

Damian also teaches Jon how to gnash his teeth. Cue Kent family dinner where Jon grinds through a burger like a garbage disposal

Jon also teaches Damian how to carefully scoop up bees. Damian uses this newfound knowledge against his siblings

Separating Damian and Jon is officially considered cruel and unusual punishment by the Justice League

Also Diana totally fawns over them. Jason is jealous

They get lectured by different people depending on how much trouble they're in. If it's something really small, then it's Selina or Dick. If it's mid-level, then Clark. If it's bigger, then Lois. If it's major, then Bruce. They haven't gotten one from Alfred yet and neither of them wanna test those waters

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twstbookclub · 4 months

Text

Unexpectedly Cute

Summary: You were grumbling about Grim and his absurd eating habits, when you found a small cactus in the courtyard. When you picked it up, you didn't think you'd see another side of Jack that day. He didn't expect to see another side of you, either. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romantic/Platonic, Tiny Cactus!!, Tsundere Jack Howl (that's putting it superficially), MC is a short and feisty firecracker in this Word Count: 1, 879 hi, i'm alive. i genuinely have a hard time writing jack, ngl. prompts for him were being switched around, and college is still kicking my ass. it's been months, really. although, i want to thank everyone who stuck around and waited for us to post fics again. i'm going to be busy again some time soon, but i hope i get to my drafts before i have to go back to the grind. again, thank you so much and i hope you enjoy reading 💕

Jack Howl has always been an enigma to you. He was an open book most of the time. His cheeks flushed whenever you pointed out his concern for others. His eyebrows pinched together every time you called him kind. He always averted his eyes and turned away from you whenever you smiled knowingly, as if you held his secrets in the palm of your hand.

Yet, he never talked much about himself. He always tagged along with your unusual, ragtag group of friends. Even if Ace and Deuce’s fights annoyed him sometimes, he still stayed. His ears twitched at every little noise. His tail wagged whenever he was happy, and it slowly swayed from side to side whenever he was content. You always noticed the little things about Jack, but he never breathed a word about his life outside of Night Raven College nor his personal preferences.

He was an open book, but the pages were inked with ciphers and riddles that hid all of his secrets.

“Why the hell…?” You trailed off with a raise of your brow. In your hands sat a small pot with a succulent in it. Its soil was a rich brown, surrounding a round and prickly cactus. Judging by the soil and the color of the cactus, it was well taken care of.

Your hand hovered over the thorns, but you pulled away with a shake of your head. As mesmerized as you were by the tiny and cute plant, you had your priorities.

For example, why the hell was a succulent—that was given this much love and care—lying on the courtyard?

You were on your way to Sam’s store for a quick restock of tuna cans for Grim (that tiny rascal got greedy and ate a month’s supply), when you found this little thing. It laid on its side on the grass near the stone pathway. The moment you held it in your hands, you couldn’t help but admire how adorable and pretty the cactus was.

“Now, what are you doing here?” You mumbled to yourself as you continued on your way to Sam’s store. “You look like you’ve been really loved by your owner, so how did you end up here?”

With how engrossed you were in admiring the little cactus, you failed to hear a choked noise and the abrupt halt of footsteps behind you. You continued to give the succulent all of your attention with gentle hands and more murmurs.

You were an enigma to Jack Howl. You rarely talked about yourself, yet you revealed so much of yourself. He remembered how a scowl always marred your face, specifically the times when someone annoyed you. He remembered the fire in your eyes when you gnashed your teeth at Leona’s insults. He remembered the curses that spilled from your lips, whether it was spite for the assholes in NRC or your everyday self-expression. There was never a day that you spoke without cursing like a sailor drunk on booze and the salty sea air.

Jack was reminded of a wildfire every time he saw you. You wreaked havoc everywhere you went. A single touch—maybe a glimpse—from you seared your presence into someone’s mind, like an ember swelling into an inferno among a sea of trees. Like a moth to a flame, he gravitated towards you despite that faint voice warning him in the back of his mind.

The Savanaclaw freshman watched you smile, a miniscule quirk of your lips. The hands that cradled his potted cactus were the same ones that punched a sophomore, who mocked you for your short height. The eyes that held so much contempt and rage were looking at that succulent with quiet admiration, as if you were looking at the stars rather than a single plant.

Just now, you reminded Jack of a pure, white dandelion whose seeds danced and twirled in the wind.

Before Jack realized it, he clapped a hand on your shoulder with a gruff, “Hey.”

You jumped, clutching the little cactus close to your chest with a loud, “Son of a b—Jack!” One of the wolf beastman’s ears twitched, catching a hint of relief and exasperation in your voice. His eyes never missed the way you pulled the plant close to you, as if it was a child that should be protected. The soft admiration in your gaze was replaced with harsh and guarded eyes, the usual. Jack noticed how much he paid attention to you, and he became a bit embarrassed at the thought.

“That’s, uh, mine,” he stammered. Your eyes were drawn to the light flush on his cheeks. His gaze averted to the side, and he raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. Subtly, you glanced at Jack’s tail.

It was wagging from side to side, for some reason.

Looking back at the taller beastman, you drawled, “I didn’t know you have a green thumb, Jack. Maybe I should ask you to help me with gathering ingredients for Professor Crewel next time.”

The embarrassed blush grew worse, darkening his cheeks. The sharp edges in his eyes returned with a glower. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face when you heard Jack growl.

“... Don’t push it, Prefect. It’s not like I’d help you out every time you call me.”

Yet, he always did.

You shrugged and laughed with a playful nudge to Jack’s side. Careful hands returned the succulent to him as you chirped, “You say that, but you always come running whenever I do. Just admit it, Jack.”

He shot you an unimpressed look, and you laughed as he took the tiny pot from you. Jack’s ears twitched again. His eyes drank in the way your smile lit your face; how your irises hid behind the chub of your cheeks. For someone who’d pounce at anyone with murderous intent in that petite body, he didn’t think he’d see you smile like that.

Jack’s tail wagged behind him, fast enough to fan cool air to anyone who stood behind him. You silently mused about how it could sweep the dirt off the ground if it wagged any faster.

“It’s not like you to lose something,” you pointed out with that grin still on your face.

Jack clutched the pot with a stutter and a furrow of his brows. You nearly laughed at his embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but muse to yourself.

Jack can actually be cute like this. He’s even being gentle with the pot. Cute.

“I-I was taking the cactus out for some sun,” Jack began with a frown as the blush was fading from his cheeks, “when Ruggie found me and told me that Leona needed me for something. The next thing I knew, it's in your hands.”

“The little guy took a tumble, then,” you concluded with a look at the cactus in Jack’s hands. “It was on the ground when I found it. Where did you leave it earlier?”

“On that bench.” Jack nudged his head towards one of the benches in the courtyard. A patch of sunlight shone over one of its edges, while the shadow of the tree stretched across the grass.

Jack watched you stare at the bench with a hum. With your attention occupied like this, he observed you without warranting unwanted embarrassment.

You bit your lip, pulling the bottom into your mouth. A million thoughts seemed to run through your mind behind that gaze of yours. A faint breeze rustled your hair and tickled your skin—and Jack couldn’t look away, for some reason.

Your eyes darted towards Jack, and he nearly flinched from getting caught staring at you. Although, you didn’t seem to think of it that way.

“I tried to scoop back some of the soil that fell out,” you told him with a lopsided smile. It looked awkward on you, as if you’re not used to smiling this much in a day.

“You’re lucky that the pot’s made of plastic. Maybe some jerk decided it was funny to ruin someone’s day like this.”

Jack continued to watch you mumble speculations under your breath. He didn’t realize it, but his hands gripped the pot and his tail wagged faster.

Who knew you could be this mellow? Your concern for his plant was kind of cute.

“Thanks,” Jack told you with a small smile, “for finding my cactus.”

You stopped mumbling, and you looked up at Jack again. You looked surprised at his gratitude, as if being thanked was rare for you. While Jack drank in the foreign expressions you made, a thought suddenly dawned on him.

“By the way, what are you doing out here?”

That seemed to snap you back to reality. The familiar frown returned, one that Jack vividly remembered from the little time he spent with you.

“Grim ate too much tuna,” you grumbled with an annoyed glare. It was as if you could see the monster-cat right in front of you.

“Now, I gotta buy more from Sam. That little bastard, I swear to the Seven—”

Jack noticed that you mentioned the Seven, rather than the usual God. You were getting comfortable with the lingo here. The corner of his lips twitched at that. Still, he made sure not to smile. If he did, you’d just tease him more, and this conversation wasn’t going to go anywhere.

“I’ll walk you there. It wouldn’t feel right if I left you after you helped me out.”

You paused at Jack’s words. A closed-lip smile lit your face, and the beastman couldn’t help but admire the sudden change in expression.

“Really?” You asked, and he caught the relief in your tone again. “Thanks. You sure you wouldn’t mind? I mean, you still have that little guy to take care of.”

You kept calling his tiny cactus a little guy. Cute. That was all Jack could think about. For someone who was callous and confrontational like you, you were being cute right now.

“I don’t mind. Besides,” Jack slightly raised the potted succulent to make his point, “think of it as returning the favor.”

You saw Jack’s tail wagging and his ears perking up. He probably didn’t notice, and you grinned at that.

“If you insist!” You chirped, before slipping an arm in his and leading him towards Sam’s store. He stumbled and stuttered again, before he exclaimed, “O-oi, hold on!”

“No can do.” Your grin grew wider, as you tugged the taller and larger freshman with you. Even if he was stronger and stockier than you, Jack let you drag him around.

“You put yourself in this situation, so I’ll make you carry the rest of the cans!”

Who knew he could seriously be this cute and earnest? For someone as intimidating and quiet as Jack, his reactions are earnestly cute.

You and Jack fell into another conversation—teasing him and earning an embarrassed blush—as you two walked to Sam’s store. The silence in the courtyard was disrupted with amused laughter and mortified grumbles.

As the afternoon sun showered the two in a golden glow, the cactus seemed to look more lively and vibrant in Jack’s hands now. It basked in the two’s company, as if it was the sunlight it needed all along.

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semicolonsspace · 2 years

Text

SUMMARY: Growing up, your family was close to the Malfoys. Draco, having a crush on you, is constantly teasing you... Until one time, in library, something happens.

WARNINGS: Teasing, language, imagining(?), Acting innocent, ring kink, hand kink, nipple sucking, degradation kink, oral (f to m) , Dom fail, Dom!Draco, sub!Y/n , mirror kink, slapping, p in v(minors DNI! please be at least 16+ to continue. You have been warned.)

Y/n's family was always close to The Malfoys. So you you had put up with Draco Malfoy growing up. He was the same age as Y/n.

Y/n and Draco had a relationship where they would constantly tease the other on stupid things.

Draco always loved when you would call him names. He would often find himself thinking about what you said in class. So much I'm fact that he would become hard.

Y/n was reading a book at the library, with her legs crossed, dangling her foot up and down at times.

Draco; being who he was, searches for her. He figures she would be in the library, so he goes there.

He finds her, staring at her. He loved when she sat like that. The perfect view of her legs. Staring at her more, he feels blood rush to his cock. Situating himself, he walks over to her and grabs her book.

"Give it back!" She whispers loudly, standing up trying to reach for it.

Draco being taller than her, he smirks down at her. "You should try harder." He chuckles, watching her struggle.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, give me my damn book back, you stupid cunt." Y/n squealed becoming enraged. Y/n grabs his tie, bringing him down.

He lets this happen, getting close to her face. Seeing as she still can't reach her book, he chuckles.

"Why do you always have to come and bother me? Give me it to me please," she pouts, Y/n becoming desperate.

"What is so good about this book anyway?" He opens it up above his head and begins to read it.

Y/n becomes red, panicing more, jumping up and down trying to reach it.

Draco smirks, while he gives it to her. "I didn't know you liked dirty books L/n. Momma wouldn't be too proud about this" he whispers lowly, like a growl.

"Wouldn't be proud. As if. She was the one who got it for me." Y/n laughs out, looking at his features. His blond hair was a bit of a mess, strands of hair poking out a bit. Oh how she loves that. Maybe just a bit too much.

"Don't look at me like that." He growls again.

"Like what?" Y/n whispers soft, acting innocent.

Draco steps back a bit, turning around, and whispers under his breath.

"Merlin, you drive me insane."

"What was that?" Y/n asks, teasing, as she heard exactly what he said.

"I didn't say anything." Draco whispers out quick.

"Then why are you panicking?" Y/n grabs his arm and turns him around and looks him in his lusted-out eyes. She laughs, softly and speaks her mind. "How do I drive you insane? You're the one who always comes bothering me."

Draco, mistakened that she didn't hear, speaks. "This is what I mean. You act so innocently but you aren't. It drives me insane."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" Y/n laughs.

Draco takes a step, grabs the back of her neck with his hand, and kisses her. She drops the book and kisses back. The kiss becomes heated, teeth-gnashing, and tongue wrestling. Draco closes the distance, y/n's back against the wall. Y/n's hands moved up to his back, holding him closer.

Draco pulls back looking at her, smiling. "I'm sorry. I've been wanting to do that for a while."

"You want to know something else that someone has been waiting for a while to do?" Y/n whispers, teasing the man towering over her. Draco nods in response, confused.

Y/n grabs his hand, grabs the book she dropped, and heads towards her dorm room. Getting looks on the way, but both do not care.

She gets to her room and pushes him in, locking the door. She turns around grabs her wand and casts a muffling spell. He watches her, lust headed. She pushes him onto her bed. He gets the hint and grabs her, spreading her legs so she is on him directly.

They start kissing again, his hands going under her skirt and onto her bare ass. She feels his cold rings on her skin, shivering. She reaches up, tugging his hair as they continue to kiss.

They pull apart, catching their breath. She moves back a bit to look at him, she feels his cock press against her cunt.

She looks at him, reaches down, and starts toying with his belt buckle. He stops her, and picks her up, setting her back down again. He growls at her stance.

Y/n was leaning back on her elbows, her legs spread. She watches while he takes his robes off, and starts unbuttoning his shirt in a hurry.

"Once we do this, you are mine. You understand that?"

She nods, her lips trembling. He looks at her, staring at her body.

He takes his rings off, her whimpering in response. He looks at her, smiling. "You're gonna have to talk to me dollface."

"Leave them on," she whimpers out.

He smiles putting them back on. He goes to kiss her, kissing her neck. She pouts her lip moaning, "Draco"

He continues littering kisses everywhere, stopping at her clothes breast, sucking them. He reaches down, rubbing her clothed clit.

"gosh you're so perfect" he looks up at her, continuing to suck on her clothes nipple. Watching her face ripple with pleasure, he feels his cock brush the edge of the bed.

"God damn, I can't take this. On your knees. "

She does what he says looking up at her, opening her mouth.

"Look at you, don't even have t' say anythin'. Too much of a whore to know what t' do." He laughs at her, teasing.

He moves his dick in front of her face. She takes it, licking the tip and sucking it. He throws his head back in response. "My beautiful girl. My beautiful fuckin' girl. S' perfect." He moans, mouth agape. He takes his hand and shoves it through his hair.

Going deeper she starts to Bob her head. She uses her tongue and glides up and down to increase the pleasure, occasionally swallowing on him. Groaning deeply he grabs her head, using it like a handle.

Feeling his dick rub the back of her throat, she knows she won't be able to talk much after. His rhythm starts to get sloppy; he stops.

"Don't wanna finish until I'm inside you. " He groans out of pain from stopping. He stands her up, guiding her in front of the mirror.

"what are we doing here?"

Draco laughs, "You will find out."

Holding her head to look at the mirror, he takes his other hand taking her robes off.

"Oh," she says realizing what was happening.

He takes both his hands, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. Watching his ringed fingers, she closes her legs together tight; trying to avoid the sensation.

He laughs, watching her body in the mirror. He looks at her in the mirror, while his hands continue their work, unclothing her body. He watches her face, pulling her skirt off.

"Look at your body, baby. Look at how perfect it is. "

She looks at her body, seeing how close he is to her. She watches his hands glide on her body. Rubbing small circles on her body, she feels the cold of his rings once again.

"watch"

She does what she's told; watching his hands. Gliding down her torso, he spread her legs with his leg. Gliding his hand down, he spreads her pink pussy, watching her slick drip down. His other playing with her breast.

"look at that, filthy." He chuckles right in her ear, feeling the vibration from his chest to hers.

He starts rubbing circles of eights on her clit, while kissing her neck. He steps closer, making sure his cock is touching her lower back, watching her struggle with all the sensations.

"look at this," he tells her removing his fingers from clit.

She looks; seeing her slick on his fingers, she moans. "Draco please."

"try again, love."

"Please, sir." He laughs at her response.

He plunges his fingers in her cunt, instantly gliding them back in and out. He watches her face contort with pleasure, her torso arching from it.

He moves his other hand to her clit rubbing slow.

"look how fucked out you look. And we haven't even begun." He laughed evil.

And that's how Y/n was before she was pushed closer to the mirror, being fucked into it. She watched her face contort with pleasure, moaning his name. He wrapped his arm around under her breast. Driving him crazy, feeling her breast jump up and down on his arm. His cock grazed by her Gspot, driving her into infinite.

"look at you, taking my cock like a needy little whore." He laughs out, feeling her cunt clench tight on his cock. "But you're my whore. Aren't you?" He asks, slapping your face slightly.

"Y- yes. I'm always yours. Always was." Y/n slurs out, feeling his hand go to her sensitive clit, making her scream.

Your legs shaking from all the pressure he laughs again moaning himself. "Fuck baby"

"I-I'm c-close" y/n stutters; clenching her cunt on his cock.

"I know, love. I can feel you. Cum for me, baby." He says softly, tapping her thigh.

As he finishes, you finish with him. Cumming inside you, he waits a bit before pulling out. "Merlin, I love you." Once he pulls out, his cum gushes out.

Y/n looks up in the mirror, shocked at what he had said.

"You love me?" She asks, mouth agape.

"of course I love you," Draco smirks, and kisses her forehead.

"well, I love you too." Y/n stutters out the confession.

"I know you do, I read your diary a while ago. " He laughs, picking her up, carrying her to her conjoined bathroom.

"you what?!"

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter x reader smut

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dear-mrs-otome · 4 months

Text

Chapter One - Ansare

Pairing: Silvio Ricci x Emma...eventually Word Count: 2.1k+/??? Author's Note: If Cybird won't give me a proper Beauty and the Beast story, I'll write it myself. This is a slowburn fairytale AU that hews closely to canon, but veers when needed.

Summary: A curse, of sorts. A rose, of sorts. And one prince's long, tangled journey to answer an eternal question...What separates man from beast?

It all began, as so many things do, with a love poem.

Emma lifted the top off of a crate, and was greeted by the rich waft of old books. Leather and glue and that indescribable patina that only the echo of many long years could leave behind. Wisdom crowning wisdom.

“There’s so many,” she said with amazement as she dug through the first layer of packing straw and pulled a title free. Running careful hands and a practiced eye over the condition of the bindings and the gilt lettering that traipsed up their spines, she began sorting them into loose categories. Histories, the classics, poetry and novels, geography and the sciences. She paused long enough to linger over a detailed map of the continent in one of the gorgeously illustrated atlases, a wistful sigh escaping her.

The bookstore was her life - she knew every nook and cranny of this shop like the back of her hand. Had skinned her knees tripping over the single uneven floorboard in its stacks as a coltish child, had stained the pages of more than one romance with tears while nursing the first tender bruises of young love curled up in the nearby battered armchair. She’d scrimped and saved and squirreled away every penny she could pinch, ever since Akatsuki had handed her the first of her wages, determined to buy it from him one day when he retired. She knew that would make her the happiest woman in the world.

But some days, it was hard not to wonder what was over the jagged rooftops of town, crowded and gnashing the skyline like snaggled teeth. What mysteries might lay just beyond the hills that cradled their city so gently, rolling away towards the horizon as she imagined waves upon the sea must. In her dreams some nights she tasted the salt spray of the ocean, only to awaken, baffled to find it was tears on her tongue.

Some days, it was hard not to wonder if she was settling her future comfortably…or merely settling.

Putting the atlas and those maudlin thoughts aside, a delighted grin stole over her face as she plucked the next book from the box, a slim volume of poetry with an aging, cracked cover and worn edges. The obscure missing volume in her exhaustive collection of Benitoitian sonnets. She flipped eagerly through the pages, her gaze devouring the metered lines upon them, lingering over one poem in particular that was redolent with the bittersweetness of longing. “You found it! You actually found it! Is that what took you so long this time?”

“Partly. I didn’t want to disappoint you, not when you’ve been looking to round out that collection for so long.” Akatsuki’s ever-stoic face thawed with the first hint of a smile as he wove a far defter path through the piles she was creating than one would expect from a man of his years. But then again, the passing of time never seemed to touch him, she’d noticed, beyond kissing a few more strands of silver into his dark head of hair. He still moved as spryly as men a third his age, and had never in all of her years of working for him ever taken a single day off ill. “And partly I was busy with business meetings.”

“Business meetings?” She slipped a bookmark at the page with the poem that had caught her eye and looked up, wrinkling her nose at the implications of that. “Oh, no. No. Don’t tell me that means-”

The rest of her sentence was robbed by a resounding crash, the deafening clatter of a door thrown open - or rather, kicked open, as she knew better than to believe otherwise of the man who sauntered in. The violence of his entrance setting one of her nearby newly built towers of books swaying precariously.

“-Him,” she finished flatly, before plastering on a smile even more obviously fake than the forgotten vase of forlorn silk orchids gathering dust in a nearby corner. “Welcome in, Your Highness. Thank you for testing the resilience of our hinges. Again.”

His Highness in question - Silvio Ricci, the crown prince of Benitoite - drew to a halt and spared her a scathing look, shaking his fur-lined cloak back imperiously. “I’d start charging for the service, but there’s no way in hell this dump could afford me.”

“Strange. For being such a ‘dump’, it sure seems to keep you coming back,” she returned fire, cloyingly sweet, before forcing herself to take a deep breath. She would not let this goblin masquerading as royalty get under her skin and ruin the high of a delivery day. Not this time.

He snorted. “It’s the impeccable customer service, clearly.”

She ground her teeth together and shot Akatsuki a pleading look, noticing the amusement that clung to the wrinkles fanned around his eyes as his attention bounced between the two of them. Spectating his favorite sport.

“Prince Silvio,” Akatsuki said at last, wading into the fray.

Dismissing her, the prince turned a dauntless, charming grin on the man who owned the shop, and she did her best to ignore the nip of envy that inspired.

He’d never smiled once at her like that. But then, why did she possibly care?

“Signore.” Prince Silvio inclined his head ever-so-slightly in the older man’s direction. “I trust you found the details of the documents I had couriered to you acceptable?”

“Well, yes. But I…” He broke off, and his gaze bounced off Emma before landing back on Silvio. “Wasn’t expecting you quite this soon. I had hoped for a bit more time to explain things.”

“Explain what?” Emma interjected, unease a cool hand curling fingers around her stomach.

Akatsuki seemed at a loss a moment, gathering his thoughts. “Circumstances being what they are and all…”

Silvio made an exasperated sound that bordered on rude. “This bookstore is the second-most profitable one in the city. I could make it number one.” He paused a moment, and lifted his chin imperiously. “I will make it number one.”

Emma shook her head. “We don’t need any advice from the likes of you. I’m certain.”

“You may not want it, but you’re getting it. And it won’t be advice…it’ll be orders.”

“Says who?” she countered, eyes narrowed in challenge.

“Me. The soon-to-be owner of this enormous heap of paper.”

She’d heard the words, but they rang hollow, refusing to make sense. She whirled towards Akatsuki as if he might somehow be able to translate.

He had the good grace to wince. “Emma, this isn’t how I wanted you to find out. But I’m not getting any younger, and the traveling of a merchant’s life gets harder and harder every year.”

“So you sold the store to Prince Silvio? Of all people, him? But…” She’d never felt betrayal before, but this nausea that clawed acrid at the back of her throat couldn’t be anything else. “I was going to buy it.”

The forlorn admission slipped free before she had time to snatch it back, falling helplessly to the ground. A fledgling taken to wing too soon.

Silvio blinked, and chortled. “You? You were going to buy the shop?"

Her cheeks stung pink at the slap of his incredulous laugh. “Yes, me.”

“You wouldn’t know the first thing about running a business like this,” he scoffed.

She shook her head fiercely. “No, you wouldn’t know the first thing about running a business like this. Could you recognize an incunable if you saw one? Do you have the faintest idea what an octavo is? Or who Madame Rochefort’s favorite author is? What genre you can sell Monsieur Martin on without fail when he comes by every Tuesday afternoon? All you see is coin to be made. Numbers in a ledger. Profit and loss. Not people. And certainly not their stories.”

“This ain’t a library, lady. It’s right there in the name - bookstore.” He paused, as if considering something. “Although, if you’re so eager to make sure things are done in a certain way, I suppose I could let you keep your job.”

“Let me…” A logjam of words crowded her throat for a moment, indignities all clamoring for space at once until one finally jostled free. “You want me to work for you?”

A petty smile slanted his lips. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it.”

That expression of his was like a door being thrown open on a smoldering fire. Rage exploded through her in a backdraft, a mindless wave of fire and fury that vaporized the calm logic she prided herself on. “Listen to me, you tacky, tasteless, tawdry, tinsel-clad affront to the eyes. I wouldn’t work for you if you were the last thing standing between me and utter destitution.”

Answering sparks flew from a blue gaze turned flinty, as the blood drained from his face. “That could be arranged. One word from me, and I could make it so that you never work in this city again.”

Her mouth fell open, eyes stinging from the salt he had just rubbed into every last one of her open wounds. “And now you think you can threaten me into keeping the job that I already have? All while you buy the shop I already planned to?”

“Oh, I don’t think I can.” His grin was more a macabre baring of teeth than any thing of mirth. The snarl of a hound treeing its quarry. “I know I can.”

“Forget it. You can own this shop, you can own this city. You can own this whole damn country. But you will never, ever own me.” The world had gone strange around her, red and wavering, like water spilled through wet paint. It took her three tries to see through it well enough to snatch up her book of poems from the top of the pile. “I quit.”

It occurred to her, as she took her first wobbly step towards the door, that it might have hurt less to have simply driven her paper-knife into her own heart. She clutched the book tightly to her chest, as if it could staunch the blood she swore poured from some wretched wound, though her blouse remained as pristine as ever.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His snarl stopped her in her tracks, but she didn’t do him the courtesy of turning around to reply. Etiquette when dealing with royalty be damned.

“I’m leaving. Like I said, I quit. Have a nice life, Your Highness.”

He lunged forward, snatching at the book she held. “You can’t just walk out. That’s store property. Which means it’s my property now.” They tussled over the tome, wrestling, neither willing to back down - until finally it fumbled from their grasp and fell to the ground, open to the page she’d slipped her bookmark in.

They both dove for it at the same time, the childish squabble continuing until they were brought up short by the harsh sound of tearing paper, freezing where they stood.

Emma forced herself to look down, dread a swallowed lump of lead sitting queasy in her stomach. Gaze shifting from the book in her hands to the page now crumpled in Silvio’s fist, a forlorn flap of ragged paper still standing accusatory in the spine she held.

“Look what you’ve done,” she managed, through lips gone stiff and numb.

“What I’ve done? You started this. If you’d just handed over the book - or better yet, not thrown a tantrum and tried storming out - this wouldn’t have happened at all,” he retorted fiercely. But when she found herself at a loss for any sort of response, and the silence drew out long and stilted and awful, he thrust the rumpled page at her abruptly. Refusing to meet her eyes. “Here.”

She glanced down at it, and let out a humorless laugh. It was the only reaction she could muster when she saw familiar words of poetry between his fingers. The exact one that had warranted a bookmark from her in the first place.

Would I could come, O lovely one, to you just in a thief’s disguise, unknown to all!

It figured that he'd manage to ruin even this for her, too.

“I bought this book. It belongs to me. Akatsuki’s been looking for it for me for almost five years now. But you know what? Keep the page, and the poem. My parting gift to you,” she told him, no longer trying to keep the bitterness coating her tongue from seeping into her words. She was too sick with it, choking on the wretched feast as she ever-so-carefully closed the book. Ever-so-carefully tucked it under her arm, before flinging a razor edged glare at him like a flechette. “It’s the closest to love you’ll ever get, Your Highness.”

He flinched, as if struck, but made no reply. Made no other movement at all, as she left him holding those words and walked out.

If you’d like to be tagged for future chapters, let me know!

(Dividers courtesy of @/cafekitsune, header image commissioned from @/sbeep)

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri silvio #ikepri emma #ikepri fanfic #my writing

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