#And Tracker would be Annoyed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zylev-blog · 1 year ago

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Jazz is Special Agent Fenton of the FBI. She doesn’t go by Fenton when she’s out on a case though; she uses Nightingale. She does this because it keeps her identity secret.

Jazz is investigating a series of crimes. One of the other agents goes undercover to try and set them up in a sting operation. Things go south and now Jazz is going to Gotham to view the murder scene.

When she gets there, GCPD try to stop her at the crime scene barrier. She flashes her FBI jacket and her badge and is given access. She walks over to the police commissioner, a man named Gordon. Gordon obviously doesn’t recognize her, and neither does the vigilante with him—Batman.

“This is a closed crime scene, Miss…?” Gordon asks.

“Nightingale. FBI.” She shows Gordon her badge. “You and your men can clear out. This is our jurisdiction now.”

“We haven’t gotten approval to—“ Gordon stops, but was interrupted by an officer walking over to Gordon and whispering something in his ear. “Fine.” Gordon grumbled, and started telling his men to leave.

“You too, Spooky. I don’t need a vigilante’s help.” She waves off the man without another thought, but Batman doesn’t move. Instead, he completely ignores her and starts walking towards the crime scene. “Obviously, you didn’t hear me.” Jazz scowled. “If you don’t leave, I will remove you with force, Batman.”

Batman turns to look at her. “That isn’t how things work here, Agent Nightingale.”

“It is now.” She kept her expression neutral. “Clear out, or be removed. Your choice.”

Batman tried to look intimidating. Jazz refused to bow. The two stared each other down before Batman took another step towards the crime scene. She reacted instantly. Pulling out a taser, she placed it on his back before he could even react.

He reacted quickly, and sent three batarangs at her in rapid succession. His movements were a bit slower than normal after getting tased. She dodged two of the batarangs, and opted to catch the third in her hand. She flicked it away lazily and cracked her knuckles with a small smile. “I love it when they choose force.”

Batman didn’t react to her comment. He seemed to understand he wasn’t going to be able to get around her without a major fight. He let out an annoyed grunt and grappled away.

Three days later, they meet on the roof of an abandoned building. It seems like Batman was still on the case after all. Jazz was not happy about it. She felt that he was going to ruin the entire operation. She couldn’t trust someone to have her back if they didn’t show their face. She doesn’t let the annoyance show on her face as Batman joins her at the edge of the rooftop.

“I thought I told you to stay off my case, Batman.” She said quietly.

Batman gave a quiet grunt. If she had to put it to words, it would translate to a ‘I do what I want.’

She didn’t speak to him again, but she didn’t kick him out, either. The two didn’t speak a word as they sat for two hours, inspecting the warehouse across the street. It was nearly morning by the time Batman left. She did make sure he left, too—she watched him grapple down the street and heard the roar of the Batmobile pulling away before she breathed out a sigh of relief.

Watching the building was doing nothing. She was going to have to get closer. She was going to have to go undercover herself. The thought didn’t make her any happier, even with knowing what happened to the last agent that went undercover for this operation. She also knew that to keep her tracker on her at all times, she would need to shove it inside a place that nobody would look for it. And boy was that uncomfortable.

Two days after she met Batman did she meet Brucie Wayne for the first time. By now she had been undercover with the modeling agency for a day, and it was going well so far. She was playing her part perfectly, but it could take weeks for them to trust her enough to give her information that she needed to know.

She had been hired to be arm candy for a wealthy man in Gotham. It wasn’t Brucie, though she knew he had a few models on his arms as well. She had gotten through most of the night without incident before she ran into Brucie. Quite literally. Brucie’s champagne spilled down her dress, and she gave a mock scream of outrage.

Brucie tried to clean up her dress, but she swatted his hands away and went to the bathroom to clean up. She never noticed the tracker that Bruce put on the nape of her neck. When she came back out, she noticed her date looking for her. She rejoined him and the rest of the night went smoothly.

A month into the operation and she finally was getting some results. She had been moved from building to building more than once, but she finally got breadcrumbs for what she needed to take them down. It took her another three weeks after that to gather all of the evidence she needed.

At the final takedown, she was joined by none other than Batman. She had half-expected him to show up after she noticed the tracker on her neck six hours after it was placed. She didn’t know when she had even run into the Batman at a stuffy charity gala. She had debated crushing it, but she didn’t have backup and she figured his help was better than nothing. She still didn’t trust him, though. She made sure he knew that, too.

Bringing the tracker up to her lips, she whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to listen in on a lady, Batman?”

Together, she and Batman took down the traffickers. They had been using models and trafficking them all over the world to be used as sex slaves. She feels a certain satisfaction while watching everyone be escorted out in cuffs.

“Nice work.” Batman says, figure tall and dark.

She hums. “Thanks.” The silence stretches on for a few minutes before she adds in, “Thanks for having my back.”

“I thought you didn’t need a vigilante’s help?” Batman teased.

She didn’t look at him, but she could hear the teasing on his voice. She smirks and crosses her arms. “I don’t. But you’re harder to get rid of than a ghost in a net.”

Batman didn’t respond back to her, and it takes her a few moments to realize what she had said. She was of course, referencing her parents ghosthunting activities. But he didn’t even know her real name, so how would he even know what he was talking about?

“When do you leave?” Batman asked.

“After everything’s wrapped up. Why, you going to miss me?” She finally turned to look at him. She wished she could run facial recognition and figure out who was under that mask. The psychologist in her wanted to know just why a man would put on a bat mask and fight crime.

“I have a case that could use your input.” Batman deflected her question.

Was that a compliment from the Batman? His way of telling her that he trusted her opinion? Or was it an olive branch?

“Mine or the FBI’s?” She already knew the answer to his question, but she wanted him to say it.

Instead, he just grunted in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and pulled a card out of the pouch that she kept her FBI id at and handed it to him. “That’s my office phone number.” She tapped the card with her finger as he held it. “If you want my personal cell, you’ve got to earn it.”

He nodded and tucked the card into his utility belt. She could see the beginnings of a smile from Batman as he disappeared into the shadows and grappled away.

Surprisingly, it only took Batman a week to call her. She had gotten settled back into her office in DC, and had mostly forgotten about the encounter. She had to report Batman’s appearance in her report, but beyond that, she didn’t have to explain that he helped her take down the ring.

She made a flight back to Gotham the next day. Batman brought her into the Batcave and told her everything she needed to know about the case. She didn’t know where the Batcave was, as Batman had blindfolded her, but she was impressed with his initiative.

“Im not wearing that.” She glared at him with all of the venom she had—which was quite a lot.

“You can’t go out in your FBI jacket.” Batman deadpanned.

“Wasn’t planning on it. Do you think I’m a rookie?” She shook her head and gestured at the costume that the vigilante had made for her. “That doesn’t give you the right to—to—ugh! Im not your Batgirl, or Batwoman, or whatever! I came out as a consult. I don’t dress up in latex, and I don’t wear costumes!”

The costume itself was gorgeous, not that she’d ever tell Batman that. It was solid black, had a red bat on the front of it, and was fully equipped with a utility belt, knife holsters, and a taser. It had a full cowl like Batmans, along with the pointy ears on top.

“I don’t see the problem.” Batman’s voice had undertones of offense in it.

“Look.” She gestured at the costume. “Im honored, truly, that you want me to watch your back. But I’m not a vigilante. Nor will I ever be!”

She had watched what vigilantism had done to Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Valerie over the years. Sure, she’d gone out with them more than once. Without a mask. But there was something more complex about the costume sitting on the table in front of her.

“You said you were going to help.” Batman’s gruff voice got closer as he took a few steps towards her.

“And I did.” She gestured to the Batcomputer. “I already gave you my opinions of the case. I dedicated a weekend of PTO time to be here. But this is as far as my help goes.”

“What about the last operation? You owe me.”

“Owe you?!” She exclaimed, thumping her finger against his chest. “I told you to get lost. You still stuck around. You could’ve cost me the operation!”

“It worked.”

She groaned in frustration. She was close enough to him now that she could smell the faint smell of Kevlar and aftershave from him. She rubbed a hand down her face as she thought over what had happened last time she was in Gotham.

“What about all your other winged vigilantes? You had uh.. Nightwing, and Robin, right?”

“It’s only Nightwing.” Batman responded. “He’s unavailable.”

“I could’ve sworn you had a Robin, too.” She looked up at him and noticed the stiffness of his body.

“Robin has moved on.” Batman replied.

Hmm. Touchy subject. She wasn’t going to push. It wasn’t any of her buisness.

“You must be really desperate if you’re trying this hard to get me to go out in that.” She smirked.

“Things could go wrong.” Batman said with a quiet sigh.

“Don’t they always?” She tilted her head.

“Not always.” Batman mimicked her actions, clearly studying her. “What will it take?”

“If I put that mask on,” She gestured to the table behind her, “You take yours off.”

“No.”

“Fine. Deals off, then.” She pulled her phone out and immediately started looking for flights back to DC.

“Why?” He questioned.

“I can’t trust someone who won’t tell me who they are.” She shrugged.

Batman let out a quiet growl. As he took his cowl off, he scowled. “You would know, wouldn’t you, Miss Fenton?”

“Holy shit.” Her eyes got wide.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

#dp x dc au #dp x dc writing prompt #dp x dc #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc prompt #dp dc crossover #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #dp crossover #dpxdc prompts #dpxdc #dcxdp #special agent jazz Fenton #jazz x Bruce #smart jazz Fenton #jazz is a fbi agent #jazz is Batwoman

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lazycats-stuff · 5 months ago

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Hi idk if you're taking requests rn but can you please do if possible batfamily x male reader who's younger than dick but older than jason and he is really shy around batfamily because he came to the family after damian idk if this makes sense and while out on patrol an enemy injects him something that turned him into a toddler but he still has all his memory the rest is up to you im sorry if this doesn't make sense😭

It's fine, it makes perfect sense, don't worry my dear anon. I know exactly what you mean. Did I use this GIF before? Yes. Does it work in this context? Yes. And did I use this GIF for a story before where I also wrote about a shy reader? Yes.

Summary: (Y/N) is shy around his family. That is until he is turned into a toddler.

Warnings: shy (Y/N), (Y/N) is turned into a toddler, not a lot of bad warnings, besides mentioning Bruce being stabbed for the purpose of this one shot.

(Y/N) was always shy, even before Bruce adopted him. But that shyness completely intensified when he was adopted into the family. He was younger than Dick, but older than Jason, which would put him somewhere in the middle. If only he didn't come after Damian came into the family, it might have been easier.

Coming into a new family where there are already four siblings and you are the fifth one... It's not easy to say the very least. Meeting new people is not easy and (Y/N) always struggled with being shy and just over all... A bit overwhelmed. More often than not, (Y/N) could be found with a blush on his cheeks. Very quiet too... Feeling self conscious more often than not.

Bruce tried to make his son more comfortable. So did the other boys. All of them in their own ways. Bruce talked to (Y/N) about becoming a vigilante. Which (Y/N) thought was a good idea. But due to his shyness... (Y/N) was very hesitant to do so. He didn't want to impede anyone due to his shyness.

Bruce promised him that they could work on it and at the same time train to go out on patrol. Bruce wanted to make sure that (Y/N) is fully prepared to go out. Sometimes, (Y/N) could overthink a lot of things and Bruce wanted (Y/N) to just trust his gut feeling. Go with your gut, trust yourself.

Of course, an overthinker overthinks everything and that sometimes makes it a bit more difficult to function. Of course, overthinking for a while when it's your first few times being on patrol is normal, you are trying to get into your rhythm and to get the initial nerves out. But the problem is that (Y/N) is a chronical overthinker. So Bruce made sure to shadow (Y/N) all the time.

Bruce made sure to instruct his sons to do the same. To make sure that they shadowed (Y/N), just for his safety. (Y/N) didn't mind it, but he would like to have a tiny bit of autonomy and a little bit of confidence in himself.

His brothers were sympathetic to that, but Bruce's orders were still standing. And Bruce did know that (Y/N) was getting a bit restless and annoyed as he couldn't have some independence. But Bruce wanted to be sure that (Y/N) could take care of himself if he was alone. And after numerous conversations with Bruce, Bruce relented and (/YN) was happy to have a little bit more autonomy.

Bruce was still worried of course, but knew that (Y/N) could take care of himself. Just like all of his children could. But Bruce is always worried about all of his children. So, he made sure to put a tracker in (Y/N)'s suit.

Just in case, Bruce told himself, trying to ease his guilt of doing this.

He knows that he couldn't tell (Y/N) because he would freak out at Bruce. Where's the autonomy if you have a tracker? And (Y/N) was happy to be trusted enough to go on his own...

Bruce was caught in the middle.

Bruce was sitting in the Batcave, taking a night off due to a stab wound. And Alfred might have threatened him with certain things if he even thought about going out on patrol. So Bruce decided to be on the Bat computer, offering support for his kids and for them to go out on patrol alone, without him as physical backup.

It was all going good, but it was a full moon. And far too quiet. And Bruce knew that something was bound to happen. And he was right. But he expected one of his kids to be hurt. Maybe something broken.

Not (Y/N) being turned into a toddler. Bruce nearly fell out of his chair once he got told what happened. It was an up and coming villain, one that Bruce didn't want to see in Gotham city. He didn't know that the enemy was dabbling into stuff like that. He stood in shock as Dick was holding a little toddler, wrapped in Damian's cloak, since the suit was far too big on him now. The suit was in Damian's hands.

" Is (Y/N) okay? Do you know what his cognition levels are? Toddler or what? "

" I'm still a teen in my mind. " (Y/N) said quietly and Bruce sighed in relief. He didn't know how he would feel if he had an actual toddler in here. He has no experience in raising one and Bruce didn't think that he could even handle on. Bruce gently walked forward and took (Y/N) into his arms, trying to calm down his nerves.

(Y/N) was okay. That's what Bruce wanted to hear. He's okay. Not dead. Not harmed... Bruce sighed in relief as he held his son close to him. His shyest son, the one who overthinks everything, the one who often blushes...

" Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? " Bruce asked softly and (Y/N) nodded, seemingly not wanting to talk. Bruce didn't mind it. He could work with nods and shakes.

" Alright, lets find some clothes for you and then Alfred will feed you and then off to bed. " Bruce said to (Y/N), who nodded, happy to eat something.

Alfred watched in silence, still shocked, but soon recovered from it.

" I'll make you your favorite master (Y/N). Come on, lets go. " Bruce put (Y/N) down and (Y/N) walked over to Alfred, reaching for his hand. Alfred smiled as he led (Y/N) up to eat something.

Bruce then turned to his sons.

" Did you manage to catch the guy? " Bruce asked and everyone shook their heads.

" He got away. He was just within my reach. " Jason crossed his arms, looking pissed.

" It's okay Jason, don't blame yourself. Once I'm fully healed, I'll help you two. For now, we need to locate the enemy and ask him for how to reverse the affects. But for now... I'll enjoy this time. I've never had a chance to raise any of you as toddlers, " Bruce confessed and everyone chuckled.

That much was true, they were all older and no one came in when they were toddlers, they were more closer to teenage years. So Bruce would really like to enjoy this period.

Can anyone blame him?

And that's what they all did. They enjoyed this time with (Y/N), Bruce more than the others. Bruce enjoyed how much smaller (Y/N) was and the fact that he could carry him in his arms. Thank God for Bruce's workout plan. And the money to get all the things necessary. Thank God for that.

(Y/N) became a bit compact with the transformation so whenever he got nightmares or got scared in general. Bruce seemed to notice that fear intensified. More often than not, (Y/N) would climb into bed, seeking comfort in his dad. Bruce never minded. How could he? No one else minded either.

It was oddly nice to have a toddler in the home. And while yes, (Y/N) still has his memories as a teen and is not as whiny as a toddler would be so it's not a fair comparison per se, but still. They liked it. Jason loved teasing more than anything in the world. (Y/N) hated it and often whined about it like a toddler would and it made Jason even more amused.

Dick enjoyed this stage too. It's nice to have someone so small around here for some reason. Tim simply buried himself into work to find the enemy. Damian didn't know where to stand on this issue. While he loved his brother even before this, although never showed it outwardly, he wanted his older brother back.

Because this messes with your mind. You have an older brother who was got turned into a toddler. It messes with your perception too. Damian was a little bit freaked out a little bit by it. Okay, not a little, but still.

And yes, (Y/N) was annoyed being a toddler. Being too small to reach anything, Jason teasing him, everyone treating him like a baby... He's had enough of it. He wanted to get out of this little body as soon as possible.

He wanted to be back to him old self.

And that wish was granted when he has seen Bruce smiling after patrol, showing him a serum.

" This will bring you back to your old self. "

(Y/N) sighed in relief. Thank God.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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normal-thoughts-official · 8 months ago

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It's actually insane how brave Wyll is when it comes to Mizora. Not only by not killing Karlach but also all the small ways he defies her - calling her an asshole, saying she's full of shit, even when Mizora is literally choking him he's still telling her that she's a liar. Whenever she shows up it's pretty much guaranteed that she will have to threaten him with lemurehood because he simply refuses to play nice. Even if it accomplishes absolutely nothing and in fact is actively dangerous to sass her

And like. Of course this ties in with how Wyll has pretty much nonexistent self preservation skills and a sense of moral fortitude so strong he can't even pretend to not be hostile towards her. But i also think it ties with Mizora's obsession with him

Because while we all know Mizora is evil and annoying on principle and all that shit, she seems to be particularly interested in tormenting Wyll. I have to assume shit like putting a tracker on him and showing up randomly just to spite him and staying in camp just to be annoying even after the contract is over are Wyll specials, because if she did this to every single one of her warlocks then she would have time for nothing the fuck else. And we know from Karlach that she's generally more worried about sucking Zariel's toes, so

(Also, I've been told that in early access she was like... Straight up jealous if you romanced Wyll, so, again. Obsessed with him in particular)

I always got the impression that she was so evil and annoying to him because she was overcompensating. Mizora is a cambion, which means she's half human, which means that in Hell's hierarchy she is fucking trash. Even the official cambion lore states that they are often rejected in both realms and struggle to earn one of their parents' approval. And it's obvious that in Mizora's case she's aiming to be accepted in the Hells.

I've seen some people claim that Mizora is too cartoonishly evil, and while that is objectively true... I think it works precisely because it's so cartoonish. I'm thinking particularly of how she describes her home in the Hells being all "oh, how I adore it, the delicious agony of it all". It's so over the top it's eyeroll worthy. I don't think Zariel herself would be Like This about it

In other words: Mizora is a tryhard

And Karlach even implies that Mizora resented her because she was Zariel's favorite, which is why I think Mizora's tryhardness was intentional as opposed to just a lazily written villain. She wants to fit in the Hells so bad it makes her look stupid. And she never will, because no matter how over the top she is about being Generically Evil, she is simply not that powerful or important.

So she overcompensates, and then she uses Wyll as her punching bag. If her own superiors will always see her as vermin, then at least she can cope with that by treating others that way as well.

But like I said, she will have no time left to suck Zariel's toes if she spends all her time tormenting every single warlock under her patronage, so the question is: why Wyll?

Obviously his unwavering goodness is the biggest reason. His soul is already damned and yet he refuses to be selfish with the time he has left on the material plane. Mizora can own him, but she can't corrupt him, and that makes her hate him. The fact that even despite her best efforts he is still recognized and beloved as a hero has got to sting too, considering she tries so fucking hard to be the Evilest Cashier In Hell or whatever. And the fact that he still manages to belong in his world (however isolated and lonely he obviously is) despite his connection to hers and she can't belong in her world because of her connection to his... Well, jealousy is to be expected.

But I think his refusal to play nice with her also plays a big role.

There's the obvious "this makes her resent him even more" factor; if Mizora wants to feel superior, it must piss her off to no end that Wyll refuses to bow to her, even if he does her bidding.

But, paradoxically, this also makes her feel more powerful.

Because at the end of the day, she does own Wyll's soul, and he does have to do her bidding, even if he doesn't go quietly. And the fact that he hates her so openly makes it all the more satisfying to have him do what she wants anyway. In Wyll's words, "the more bullshit she pulls, the more [he's] forced to swallow". His hatred for her is exactly why she wants him so bad, even though she obviously hates him just as much.

And so this is why she's so desperate to get Wyll's soul back, and why, even if he breaks the pact, she still makes it a point to stay in camp just to fucking spite him. Because Wyll is the only warlock that actually makes her feel appropriately Powerful and Evil, if we assume that her other warlocks are simply not as good aligned as Good Alignment Georg or even just don't want the trouble of spiting her for no reason. She can be obeyed and tolerated and maybe even revered by the other warlocks, but only Wyll can make her feel like an absolute, inescapable power. Because the other warlocks choose to obey her. Wyll makes it clear that he has to, and thus, she feels like she is mighty.

And obviously I know that the whole "person who has it all is obsessed with the one person who doesn't obey them" trope is a well known cliche, but I think Mizora and Wyll's dynamic is unique in that Mizora doesn't actually want to make Wyll bow to her and respect her as an authority; she wants him to fight back so she can feel like she's winning.

(And, of course, because Mizora doesn't actually have it all; she's just a petty errand girl who wants to feel special)

So, yeah. Wyll's incredible bravery in constantly defying her is exactly why she is so eager to keep him

#maybe all of this is obvious and again i know this isn't exactly a groundbreaking new dynamic but i do think it combines several elements #of dynamics that don't usually go together #if that makes sense #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #wyll ravengard #mizora #mizora bg3 #meta #overflowing trashcan

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eggcats · 8 months ago

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Funny addendum: Non-AU Alastor also believes this.

Like imagine, for whatever reason, canon Vox is at the hotel and he's bitching about Valentino, and Alastor is nearby because he doesn't like or trust Vox alone in HIS hotel.

Vox: And then the fucker said that he only sleeps with 10s AND Vox! That absolute bitch, how DARE he?! After everything we've built!

Alastor, confused: The distinction makes sense. I fail to see how THIS is the thing you take fault with, considering everything else lacking in the moth.

Vox, mortally offended that his rival-crush ALSO thinks he's ugly and trying to pretend he doesn't care about it: uh, FUCK YOU?!

Alastor, now both confused and offended: If he included you in the scale, no one else would rate a 10? Although I suppose it is true about what they say about television rotting the brain, if your offense is taken at a rare show of consideration and NOT the publicized and continuous cheating. Ha ha!

Vox is so caught off guard that his screen immediately glitches, and it's not until he does a full system reboot that he can even RESPOND to what Alastor just said.

Alastor is making fun of his flimsy technology when Vox comes to.

Angel is cracking up in the background, watching this entire thing go down.

Vox has no idea where to go from here.

In my AU, Alastor absolutely believes his thoughts about Vox are, like, objective fact and not opinions because CLEARLY anyone can SEE that Vox is the prettiest, best, most charming and beautiful mate in all of hell which means he HAS to be on the lookout for anyone trying to steal Vox from him because obviously everyone wants him

(I mean, is he wrong, tho? Exactly)

Alastor will just say the most unexpected romantic compliments to Vox without even thinking about it because he doesn't even register them AS compliments or flirting or anything, he's just stating objective facts - meanwhile Vox is overheating and needs to reboot his system

#its just even funnier to me if canon Alastor also doesn't realize that not everyone thinks Vox is the most attractive demon in hell #he just thinks its such a fact that it doesnt even occur to him to be embarrassed for admitting it #bc he's just like: Vox? that sellout? yeah he's the best looking demon in hell but that doesn't stop him from being an annoying clout chaser #Alastor sees Vox exactly like that one phineas and ferb episode where Phineas had to take out Isabella's cuteness to not break the tracker #like obviously Vox isnt a 10 because if HE'S included on the scale then literally no one else would rate #Alastor voice: Why are you glitching and turning purple I'm insulting your intelligence here

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pirateprincessblog · 1 year ago

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2 batteries away

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: if he can choose to spend time with someone else rather than you, daryl would do it. not because he hates you. he simply doesn't have any type of connection with you. and you are so young. but when rick demands that you join him on a scavenge hunt, he doesn't have much of a saying into it, and chooses to act unbothered. he also chooses to ignore the way you tease him the whole trip, your hips swaying just a bit more when walking than usual. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: daryl dixon x female reader 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: alexandria, pre-negan 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: big age gap, reader is half daryl's age 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: voyeurism, masturbation, breath-play, subtle ddlg, toys, subtle dacryphilia

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i am on season ten of twd (my first time watching) and it feels like this man's clothes keep getting tighter and tighter each episode and i am so here for it. also the way his arms magically always glisten in the sun as he subtly flexes when the camera is on him? give me a break I BEG

Also I miss Rick very much 🥺

"i have a special request. if i'm allowed to do that." a playful voice calls behind you.

you turn around, squinting. the sun is high up in the sky, and right in your eyes. you make out carol's short hair, and nod at her as a sign to keep speaking.

"i'm gonna need something i can make cookies or cakes with. hazelnut, chocolate, almonds,... you know. cake stuff." the woman smiles.

"i'm going out for ibuprofen and possibly viagra, not chocolate."

"viagra? for who?"

you chuckle under the cap rosita has given you, and try to subtly glance over at the man loading the car with weapons. he grunts, glaring at you and instantly shutting down the bullying party you wanted to start.

"i don't need no damn viagra." he slams the trunk door shut, and walks past you, intentionally pushing his shoulder into yours.

you fall a step back, holding in a laugh. carol has her hands on her hips, but her laugh isn't hidden. she knows daryl can't say anything to her.

"oh, come on. i know that you like to stay quiet and mysterious, but a little joking in hard times never hurt anybody." the woman defends you, scrunching her eyebrows at daryl.

"it's hurting me." he yells from the car, slamming the door shut.

"how am i supposed to survive this trip with him, ricky?" you complain, shoulders hanging with rising irritation with the situation.

"you survived a walker flooded prison with nothing but an axe before you found us on the other side, and you're telling me you can't survive a grumpy old man for a few hours?"

"thing is, i killed walkers. i cannot kill him. boo-hoo, the precious tracker. i also, when i see a footprint on the floor facing a certain way, know that someone is headed there. wild, right?"

rick pats your head, messing up the cap in the process just to tease you.

"bring me some shirts on the way back, i'm getting sick of these flannels. and get yourself something nice."

one would think that he gave you his credit card to buy him those shirts at the nearby mall. telling you to get yourself something nice, that idiot. the less fun truth is that you are headed towards a landfill two hours away from alexandria, in hopes of finding anything. glenn and morgan haven't had any luck for a few days now, so rick decided to change the route and the team. daryl and you, apparently, make a great one. that pain in the ass of a man.

"i'm leavin'. you stay and talk 'bout me all you wan'. i'm the one actually doin' something for this place."

"stuck up much? see," you open the car door, sitting inside annoyed, "with the viagra, you'd be a much more pleasant person to be around."

"enough with the damn viagra. fuck's the matter with you?"

"god, just start driving and drop me off somewhere in the middle of the road and i'll find my own shit from a different place. rick doesn't need to know."

"no," he simply responds, not sparing you a glance.

rick waves at you with a smile on his face, knowing damn well what he did putting the two of you together for such a long quest. he's so going to hear from you tonight. if you make it out alive while trying to kill daryl.

"so, what are you hoping to find? booze, peanut butter, new clothes? i'm starting to think you stapled those clothes to your body."

he says nothing, eyes focused on the road. you sigh. maybe you're the problem. you're poking him too much, knowing he has zero patience and doesn't very much like your company. you decide to keep quiet for the rest of the drive, only occasionally glancing over at him out of boredom.

you can't lie, he is an attractive man. you don't know why you're mean to him. he is gorgeous to you, your taste in older rugged men not failing you. you're surprised rick isn't the one you fell for. but next to daryl, he looks too... neat. daryl is just perfect. most of the time his deep raspy voice has you subconsciously rubbing and squeezing your thighs, led by a tingling sensation in your lower stomach. his clothes have recently gotten very tight on him, the buttons of his black shirt threatening to pop and give you a view of your lifetime. he has been working out a lot, you've seen him. fuck, not only have you seen him, you also stayed there, secretly snapping pictures with your polaroid your father had left you before disaster struck. you only had a few films left, yet no self control. something about seeing daryl all sweaty as he did push ups, grunting and almost moaning, thinking that nobody can see him, did things to you.

"wha'?" he asks, sensing your intense gaze.

you turn your head away, flushed. "nothin'."

"mmh."

he keeps it short and stern, and if your panties weren't drenched as your brain replayed the memory of his glistening arm muscles, you'd probably make a sassy remark. he raises an eyebrow, probably also wondering why you aren't being mean for so long now.

"shoes." he says after some time.

"what?" you ask, absent-mindedly staring into the tall trees and the walkers hidden among them.

"i'm hoping to find some shoes. it's gettin' hard to walk in these. i also hope i find sum more arrows."

you nod, surprised that he has actually graced you with an answer. you thought he'd say something like cigarettes or alcohol. you hated people who smoke. but daryl is an exception. he looks damn hot doing it.

"you?" he asks.

"well, new underwear would be nice. i ripped all my good panties, and let me tell you, these thongs are not apocalypse friendly."

"shit, girl, oversharing much?"

"what, you disgusted by female underwear?" you poke back, playfully.

"not female underwear. your underwear."

you're offended. you squint at him, and have to fight the urge to smack the back of his head.

"for your information, you don't look or smell all flowery and fresh yourself. i could use your hair to grease up carol's tray for her cakes. and your fingernails? they have their own ecosystem at this point."

and back to the bickering it is. he grunts again, furrowing his eyebrows. he secretly glances at his fingernails. indeed, they had a layer of dirt under them, but daryl thinks that he has bigger issues than some dirt that will get washed off anyway.

"oh, i also wish to find-"

"yeah, lost interest." the man interrupts. "also, for future conversations, you do not mention your... thongs... to people that are ol' enough to be your father."

ew.

he did not.

"what, is that how you see me? you could be my father?"

how utterly disappointing. there you were, sitting next to him, imagining him going feral between your legs, all while he is viewing you as his child. there goes your masturbating material for tonight.

"well the age fits the description."

"fuck you. seriously." you sigh, turning your body towards the window so you can fully ignore him.

arriving at the gates, you immediately notice a few things that you will be taking home. how foolish of you to not take a truck instead of the crusty old car.

"watch it." just as he says it, an arrow passes by your head, followed with a loud thud.

you don't have to look back to know that a walker had managed to sneak behind you, while you were foolish enough to stay swooning over his arms glistening in the sun with sweat.

"damn it, girl, i don' know what it is with you, but you gotta snap outta it. i can't keep saving ya ass."

"yes, dad." you reply, annoyed.

"hey." he calls, hand reaching to cup your jaw and turn your head towards him. "shut it before i make ya."

if it weren't for the feeling of his rough hand on your face and his raspy voice sending you a warning turning you on, you would've slapped him and told him not to touch you. but oh, you were going crazy inside. you found a new way to push his buttons, and you're going to have so much fun with it.

you walk behind him into the landfill, the smell of junk pinching your nose. daryl is also bothered by it, seeing his scrunched expression as he scanned the first piles of garbage.

"there." he points his crossbow a certain way.

you follow the invisible line, your eyes landing on what seemed to be several taped boxes. they could have three things inside: food, weapons, or traps. weird how nobody has discovered this place yet. or maybe they have, and they took all valuables already.

daryl doesn't wait for you. he makes his way towards the boxes, keeping his crossbow ready if something goes wrong. you, on the other hand, have tucked your knife safely and are walking around like there isn't walkers scratching at the fence, waiting to sink their teeth into your skull.

"dammit."

you hear rattling. you turn around, only to find the man kicking the boxes angrily. the can he has just thrown on the floor rolls up to your feet, and you crouch down to examine it. it is food, but expired. eating it would be like playing russian roulette.

"i mean, we can still... ya'know, take it with us. what happens happens."

"dixon, if i'm gonna die, i'm gonna die from a bullet or a bite. not from a rotten macaroni."

he raises an eyebrow at you, amused with your laid back attitude. he doesn't give you much attention, just silently walks next to you while scanning his side of the landfill.

"ah, sweet!" you cheer, running towards a pile.

"wha'?"

you almost trip over the broken wooden chairs, trying to get to a certain little box in the pile.

"the hell are ya doin'? we're losin' time!"

your eyes instinctively roll at his voice. you know he has nothing smart to say. finally reaching the box, you jump back on the floor, eagerly opening it. seeing that the item still has the foil sealed on it, you victoriously raise it in the air, cheering.

"you have made it a goal for yourself to die today, didn't ya?"

"nah, not anymore. i found something that will keep me occupied and will fuel my will to live a little longer."

you continue your way forward, leaving daryl to stare at the box you have discarded, trying to figure out what it is. but he has decided he has no time for your immaturity. he needs to ask rick to not ever put him with you on a hunt again. he's lost a lot of time already, and hasn't found a single thing to bring back.

"clothes." you point, the pile of fabric sitting on top of a garbage hill.

"you gonna go get 'em?"

"why would i go? you go."

"you wanted your... thongs... so, you go get that."

you scoff, setting the newly acquired item on the ground and slowly climbing up the hill.

"what is this, anyway?" his curiosity wins.

you sit on top of the pile, examining the clothes and discarding the ones with holes in them.your eyes dart to the man below you, and you chuckle when you see him crouch and take the item in his hand.

"it's a wand."

"wand?"

"yes."

"for?" he keeps pressing, his eyes never leaving the pink gadget.

"masturbating."

thud.

you look down, mortified. he better not break it.

"careful with that, what's the matter with you?!"

"you're fuckin' crazy, girl."

you silently mock him, sticking your tongue out at him and repeating his words with exaggerated face expressions. he really gets on your nerves. you gather the clothes you have found into a bed sheet, tying it up and putting it over your shoulder, then pick up the gadget from the floor. it seems alive, it didn't break. you only hope it works. you're young, inexperienced, surrounded by people that are either too young or too old for you. though, the old part never was a problem for you, it was for them.

feeling bored, you decide to keep poking him. he is just so grumpy, and silent. and inviting to irritate.

"so, dixon, you've never heard about one of these?" you wave the gadget in front of his face.

he spares you a glare, and continues walking.

"come on, we're talking. nobody's around. tell me, since all of this started, how many times have you even approached a girl? do you even mastu-"

"'m not in the mood to be picked on right now."

"i'm not picking on you. i promise. just trying to converse."

"you want to be useful? hold this. it's in my way." he throws his vest at you, now only wearing a tight black t-shirt.

you scowl at him, shoving his vest into your backpack.

"you're so fun to be around. i get why rick put us together."

he grunts, leaving you behind. rolling your eyes, you go down a different path, hoping to find something useful to all of alexandria and not just you. turning a few lefts, you find yourself standing in front of a little shed like structure. you bang on the door with your foot, and when hearing no growls, you bravely enter. it is dusty and dark, with a singular armchair and a few cupboards.

you open each one of them, happily shoving all the food you managed to find into your backpack, opening a protein bar along the way and chewing on the oats and dried fruits. you missed having those with yogurt for breakfast.

not only will carol be happy with the amount of nuts and flour you have found, rick will be proud of you. you might even ask for a reward when he sees the amount of canned tuna and jam you have found. you forgot what pancakes taste like.

after clearing the room, you peek out the window. daryl is in the distance, going through piles and kicking stuff out of his way, as if playing. you've collected way more than him, and the sun is at it's highest point. the shaded room seems like a perfect place to take a nap, or just rest your feet and ears from him.

you plop on the armchair like a star washed up on the shore. it feels so lonely lately. rick has michonne, carl has enid, rosita has her boytoys, even gabriel might be having more fun than you. as wrong as it was, you stay up listening to the noises coming across the street. they're loud, there's no way you could ignore them even if you wanted to. even rick had to step in and ask them to be quieter. but what is a problem to someone else is a solution for you. is it wrong to touch yourself while listening to someone else fucking? yes. but is it the only way that works for you? also yes.

you eye up the toy that peeks from the backpack, then glance out the window. daryl is busy with his crossbow, having found something that he could use on it.

fuck it.

you unbuckle your pants, not bothering to take off the panties. your fingers are quick to pop the batteries that come with the package in the gadget, and when the lid clicks, you admire it for a second. there it is, in all its glory. waiting to be abused every day by you, until you find a replacement. hopefully a softer and live one.

taking off the thin protective foil from the head, you position yourself on the armchair. you glance at the window again, carefully monitoring daryl. now, if you thought that eavesdropping and touching yourself was bad, what was this? watching daryl's fingers work on his crossbow, arms glistening in the sun, all while the pink toy softly vibrates on your pulsating clit.

you sigh at the newfound pleasure, rubbing the toy up and down your slit, while your eyes stay focused on the man unaware of your situation. he probably even forgot about you. or is thankful that you have left him alone. even better for you. you get to be a pervert without him ever knowing.

you arch your back, throwing your head on the backrest as you focus on chasing the release. it's been awhile, it won't take you long. your eyes open again, just enough to see if the man is still in his spot. your fingers change the vibration strength on the gadget, and instantly, you gasp. it is so intense, and so much, but you don't want it to stop. this thing is your new best friend, you better get used to it.

something else peeks out of the backpack, the leather catching your attention and giving you an idea. like an animal in heat, you grab the vest, burying your nose into it and spreading your legs further. daryl's scent takes over your senses, making you lose control and become a moaning mess. you are getting wetter by the second, the toy now slipping up and down your slit with ease and giving you maximum pleasure.

"fuck- daryl-" you can't help but gasp, enveloped in his manly scent and fabric.

your hips hopelessly rub against the toy, chasing and chasing after something that isn't quite getting closer, even though it feels like it.

"the hell?"

your eyes widen at the interruption. you drop the vest in your lap, hiding the crime scene from him. the man stands at the door, expression unreadable. yours is one of horrified mixed with desire, the way he stares down at you angrily sending arrows to your core.

"daryl- i- did you, uh, find anything?" you try to play it off, foolishly.

"yeah. i found an animal in heat it seems. couldn't wait for alexandria to do that shit?"

"I-"

"is that my vest?"

he slams the door shut, leaving you two in darkness. you gulp, moving the gadget from your core and letting your panties fall back in place.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry-" you stutter, failing to put a sentence together while he intensely glares at you.

"ya ain't sorry." he grunts. "ya know why i despise being around your ass? you're inappropriate."

"no, look," you try, but he points a finger at your face, making you close your mouth.

your eyes burn, tears announcing their arrival.

"it's not like that-"

"shut up, dammit! i'm talkin' now! do you have any idea in how many uncomfortable situations you've put me? all those snarky dirty comments, all that flirting, now this? do you understand what that does to me?!"

he's yelling, frustrated and angry with you. but why are you getting wetter? why can't you think rationally? he is scolding you for being inappropriate, and you continue to be even more inappropriate by sexualising simple yelling. not your fault he looks damn hot while he does it, though.

"you're- you're half my age. i can't allow myself to play your games, no matter how tempting."

what?

"what will alexandria think? they already have no good opinion on me. engaging with someone half my age the way you want me to engage is- it is a horrible idea. i'll be out faster than i was in."

silence swallows the room. you still lay on the armchair, half naked with his vest covering you. he paces around the room, fingers running through his hair as he tries to gather his thoughts. you think whether it's time to finally say something, but you wait another moment. you need to gather your thoughts too.

tempting, he said. so he thought about it too. he saw past your jokes, and has been controlling himself so well. if only you knew what it would take to shatter that control, even for just a moment.

"since when do you care what other people think?" you start.

"since rick chose to trust me."

you hum, understanding.

"listen-"

"so you've been thinking about it." you're the one to interrupt now.

his head snaps up, looking at you with his eyebrow raised, as if asking you where you're going with that statement.

"there's nothing wrong with it. it's not like we're getting married or something."

"i'm older than you. way older than you."

"so?"

"i could be your father."

"if you say that word to me one more time i swear i will turn this landfill upside down to find another sex toy to shove up your asshole."

"why do you get so triggered by it?"

you roll your eyes, looking anywhere but at him. you press your thighs together, missing the warmth and buzzing from earlier. fun killer.

"because."

"why?"

"doesn't matter."

"tell me," he presses further.

you finally look at him, frustrated. "because i have fucking daddy issues and the thought of you being so much older than me turns me on. there."

you get up from the armchair, putting his vest on so that you can cover yourself. it almost reaches your knees, hiding your body from his gaze. he says nothing, and does nothing for a few moments. you have your back turned to him, hands resting on the counter of the half chipped kitchen cabinet. your head hangs low with embarrassment from the confession that just left your mouth.

tears stream down your cheeks, luckily hidden by your hair. but daryl doesn't miss the little sniff that comes your way. he sighs, then paces around the place a little more. when you don't hear him anymore, and finally face the fact that nothing will be the same with him anymore, you dare turn around. you almost gasp when you come face to face with him, his chest pressing against yours.

"wha- what are you-"

"shh..." he hushes you, eyes roaming your face.

you aren't sure what to do, or what he wants to do. if he tries to comfort you by giving you a hug, you will break down. and you will never face him again. you thought it was only sexual, but the way he looks at you and hushes you as you cry is awakening new emotions inside of you. ones that you will push down for now, because it is not the time.

"daryl, i'm sorry." you hiccup, genuinely feeling sorry for ruining whatever you had with him.

you feel his hands on the back of your thighs, and before you can react, he picks you up and places you on the counter. you instinctively spread your legs, letting him in closer.

"don't be. or else i might regret this."

you look at him doe eyed as he places his hand on your neck, gently holding you just beneath your jaw and softly pressing into the sides of it. he brings his head close to you, eyes half closed as he stares at your lips.

"daryl." you whisper, not sure of this anymore.

"just hush."

and with that, he presses his lips into yours, softly moving them with rhythm only known to the two of you. his other hand caresses your thigh, then creeps to your bottom and pulls you to the edge of the counter, enough to have your crotch press against his.

you can taste your tears while you kiss him, and he probably can too. he doesn't say anything, hell, you even feel him twitch between your legs. you grind on him, unable to control yourself. it is different than the wand. it's warm, and it responds back. it's better.

"hey," you call, slowly pulling away. "i don't want you to do this because you feel sorry for me or something like that. are you doing it because of that?"

"nah."

before you can continue bombarding him with questions and overthinking, he places his lips back on yours, this time a little rougher than before. you open your mouth, tongue eager to taste him properly. and fuck, he tastes good. you hated cigarettes and alcohol, but from his mouth, you adore it. you finally give in, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him impossibly close. finally.

it doesn't take long for him to have you whining and grinding on him, wanting more than just kissing and thigh grabbing and occasional choking. you beg into his mouth, quietly at first, but with each kiss he gives you, you become louder and more demanding.

"touch me, please, please, please," you're desperate.

he smiles, for the first time in a while, and snakes his hands under your top. you hurriedly take off the vest and the top, to make it easier for him, but he pulls his vest back on your body. you are now wearing nothing but panties and the leather vest, making daryl incredibly impatient.

"ya just needed some attention, didn't ya?" he kisses your neck, his hand cupping your breast and thumb playing with the hard nub. "some sense fucked into ya to shut that mouth."

for someone that almost never talks, he is quite the talker now. and you can't complain, when his words have you clenching around nothing down there.

"needed someone older to take care of ya."

you moan at his words, spreading your legs further and raising your hips into his crotch. his hand reaches down to your panties, landing a light slap on your clothed clit as a warning. there's growling outside of the shed, but not enough to make you care. you'll get what you want, and no amount of walkers will stop you, even if it'll be your last.

daryl moves your panties aside, pulling away from you to see you. he hums, thumb coming to contact with your clit and circling it a few times. you shake under his touch, throwing your head back. it isn't something you haven't done before, but the touch is foreign, and different. his fingers are rough and big, an opposite of the soft flesh of your clit. he rubs your slit up and down, enough to smear your arousal so he can touch you better.

"fuck..." you trail, grabbing the edges of the counter and digging your nails into the hard surface.

"didn't find a boy your age to open you up?"

you shake your head. he hums again, fingers now circling your tight entrance.

"that's a shame, then. i'm gonna have to take my time with you."

"what? why?" you ask, disappointed.

"i'd split you in half, little one."

every word in that sentence sent arrows to your core. fuck, just how big is he?

"then, what are we doing?"

he turns around, leaving you yearning for his touch while he grabs your discarded toy from the armchair.

"you share toys?"

"sometimes."

"good."

he pulls himself out from his pants, and you are left with your jaw dropped. it fuels his confidence, the way you're staring at him as he rubs himself up and down. he isn't big. he's huge.

"daryl, how will that fit in me?" you ask, actually concerned.

"it'll take a little time. i'll train ya, and you'll take it like a good girl, the way i teach ya. but ya have to start listening to me and stop pissing me off."

nodding eagerly, you push your hips towards his hands, searching for his touch again.

he turns the gadget on, pressing it against your clit. you moan out loud, grinding on the buzzing toy and sliding with ease. you hear him grunt, and even a quiet moan. your eyes drop to the situation between your legs, and when you see him pressing his cock to the gadget, you swear you could squirt all over him. he rocks his hips with yours, pushing you up against the wall and grunting in your mouth, just like you moan into his. he doesn't break eye contact with you, instead getting off on it.

"i'm gonna cum, daryl." you whine, hands reaching into his hair to pull.

"give me a second."

you'd give him two if he wanted. you try your hardest to focus on not yet cumming, but the way he sweats and grunts for you doesn't make it easy.

"daryl-" you warn, moans becoming high pitched and inviting the walkers around the shed.

he sticks two fingers in your mouth, keeping you silent and helping himself get closer. you only needed to swirl your tongue around him a few time and take him all the way to his knuckles to have him moaning and cumming all over your stomach, rubbing the toy up and down in a sloppy pace.

you follow, pleasure washing over your body along with a thin layer of sweat, the sight of his seed on you making it more intense. you are dehydrated, hot and filthy. and you love it, because he is the same. you'd be like that every day, if it meant getting him the way you just had him.

"you didn't have to..." you say as he helps you dress up, wiping his seed from you with his bandana and discarding it.

"i wanted to. before, today, too."

"you sure?"

"yes."

you nod. he sees that you are not convinced, and he sighs. he pulls you in for a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"i rarely regret my actions. trust me."

"yeah, well, i hope i'll get more of these actions you speak of."

he chuckles, planting a kiss on your forehead.

"you know, for someone who just came all over me, it's weird to see you so sentimental and comforting."

you don't even finish the sentence, he already playfully throws the bandana at you, rushing outside to hide his smile and to hide from your attempt at attacking.

"oh, you- you- you asshole!"

"right back at ya."

***

yippie! my first twd oneshot, idk how to feel about it lol. had this in the drafts for a while now. feel free to send feedback, doesn’t matter if it is good or bad 🩷

#twd #twd imagine #twd smut #twd daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl x y/n #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x you #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead imagine #the walking dead smut

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keanusbabydoll · 2 months ago

Note

If you're taking requests, how about a daryl x reader with him hunting you through the woods. Y'know, the classic predator/prey thing. Maybe when he catches you, he uses his knife on you. Not to like seriously hurt the reader, but he knows she thinks he looks hot using a knife. Feel free to not write this if It makes you uncomfortable, though.

HIS PREY

a/n: anything for you guys!! i looove this one.<3

paring: daryl dixon x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content, p in v, unprotected p in v, rough sex, dom!daryl, slight knife play, knife kink, daddy kink, age gap, fingering, slight edging, slight spanking, degrading, praising

wordcount: 2.2k

MDNI

��𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡ ⋆𐙚 ₊ ° ⊹ ♡

it was a crisp morning when rick approached you and daryl, suggesting the two of you head out to scout for food. the group needed supplies, and he knew that daryl was the best hunter in the group—and that you, after months of being together, had become a skilled tracker in your own right.

it wasn’t the first time you were out alone and let’s say you were more than just excited.

being alone on a scavenger hunt with daryl always ended up with you getting your brains fucked out against a tree. and you couldn’t get enough of it. there would be no annoying rick or michonne who constantly interrupt you or ask daryl to guard at the gates. there, it was just the two of you.

as soon as you stepped into the woods the calming scent of damp earth and pine needles filled your nose. you looked to your right and found daryl adjusting his crossbow, his sharp blue eyes scanning the area for any walkers. hell, only the sight of him made you drool and hold yourself back to not jump on him. the way his muscles flexed and his shirt hugged his trained form so perfectly.

you needed him dearly, the forming wet spot in your panties only prove of it. and you definitely knew how to get what you want.

just as daryl seemed to have prepared everything you glanced over your shoulder with a smirk, arms folded over your chest. “you know daryl,” you teased, “if i wanted to hide out here, you’d never find me.”

he snorted softly, not looking at you. “that so?” you took a step closer, leaning into his space. “you’re good, dixon. but not that good. you’d be wandering around these woods all night.”

now you got his attention.

daryl’s lips twitched into a faint smirk as he finally turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing like he was already sizing you up.

underestimating daryl’s abilities? bad idea.

“you’re talkin’ a lotta shit for someone i could catch in under five minutes.” he stated, your words definitely affecting him. “prove it.” you challenged, your voice low and teasing. you could already feel your heart racing at what would happen next.

for a moment, he just stared at you, the weight of his predatory gaze making your breath hitch. then, without a word, he reached out and gripped your upper arm firmly, his expression shifting into something darker. “you better run, girl. clock’s tickin’.” your heart skipped a beat as soon as the words left his mouth and for a second, you hesitated, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t kidding.

and you were fucking in for it.

you turned on your heels and bolted into the woods, the adrenaline kicking in almost instantly. the forest felt alive as you weaved through the trees and your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of excitement and something far more primal.

you eventually found a spot—a large tree covered in ivy. its wide trunk provided the perfect hiding place. carefully, to not make any sound, you knelt down and pressed your back against it, trying to catch your breath. you knew daryl well enough to know that he’d take his time, moving silently, stalking you like his prey. the thought of it sent shivers down your spine.

but honestly, you would’ve loved to hide somewhere really obvious only for him to find you after a minute. that’s how much you fucking craved this man. but then again, you knew that he would remind you forever that you were hiding this poorly. and the thrill of not knowing when he’d find you, got you even more excited.

the forest was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. but then, you heard it—a soft, deliberate footstep. your breath caught in your throat. he was close.

you leaned ever so slightly to peek around the tree, scanning the woods for any sign of him. nothing.

you let out a quiet sigh of relief, relaxing back against the tree.

big mistake.

in a flash, a strong hand gripped your arm, yanking you to your feet. you barely had time to yelp before your back was slammed against the rough bark of the tree harshly. daryl loomed over you, his chest heaving from the exertion of the chase, his piercing eyes locking into yours. without you even fully realizing it, he held his sharp knife against your throat— not enough to hurt you but still to show you who’s in charge.

“thought ya could hide from me, huh?” his voice was low and gravelly, dripping with dominance. your eyes drifted down to the blade against your throat, your heartbeat quickening. “guess i was wrong.” you whispered, finding his gaze again.

“stupid lil’ thing.” he murmured as he began to trace the tip of the blade along your jawline, down your throat and to your exposed collarbone— leaving soft white lines. you tried to stifle a moan but the undeniable tension and daryl’s dominance made this impossible.

and he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

given the fact how pathetically you were rubbing your thighs together to gain just a tiny bit of friction. “you’re such a lil’ slut, doll.” he growled as he let the knife wander down to your tits, his eyes following it closely. “only for you, daddy.” you quietly whimpered, batting your eyelashes at him.

“yeah?” he amusingly huffed out before he captured your lips in a heated kiss— rough and demanding. his free hand gripped your waist to pull you closer as you moaned into the kiss as you felt his hard cock pressing against your lower belly.

he ached for you just as much as you ached for him.

his blade once again nestled on your throat, this time pressing a little harder, knowing it would rile you up even more.

he pushed his tongue past your lips, claiming you as his as he devoured your sweet taste. your tongues fought for dominance but daryl obviously took the lead, not letting you win this battle. the hand that lingered on your waist now grabbed one of your tits, squeezing it harshly. in reply you just pressed yourself harder against him, wordlessly signing him that you longed for more.

you felt him smirk into your kiss and he slowly let his hand glide down your body, stopping at the edge of your jeans. “please, daddy.” you whimpered softly against his lips, staring up at him with the prettiest doe eyes you got.

“what d’ya want?” he teasingly asked, his fingers inching very slowly down your pants. “you, daddy! touch me please.” your plea made his dick twitch in anticipation, he always thought you were so hot when you begged. you impatiently pushed your hips toward his fingers- your cunt was burning for his touch.

“can’t say no now, can i?” he sarcastically retorted as he finally dipped his digits inside your panties. immediately, he began to rub your clit in slow, circular motions, eliciting a relieved sigh from you. again, he trailed his knife down your body before he put it back into its sheath. he expertly opened your jeans one-handed and pushed it with your panties below your ass, giving him more access. daryl almost lost it when he saw your glistening cunt on display.

“you’re fuckin’ drippin’.” he lowly rasped, sliding a finger down to your soaked entrance, wetting the tip of it. “just for you.” you mumbled, tangling your fingers in his hair. “good fuckin’ girl.”

in the blink of an eye he had two of his digits knuckle deep in your pussy, your wetness allowed him to slide in with ease. “ah- fuck!” you mewled, gripping his hair tighter. daryl pressed his lips to yours again as he began to pump his fingers in and out of your cunt in a steady pace, his other hand was back at your tit, groping it feverishly. jolts of pure pleasure crashed through your body as he suddenly curled his fingers and stimulated your sweet spot. “right there.” you squeaked, leaning your head back against the tree.

daryl only took this as a sign and thrusted his fingers faster and rougher inside of you, your walls instantly clamping down on him. he began to lick and suck on your neck, occasionally biting down on your hot flesh. the squelching sounds your pussy made got his dick even harder, needing to be inside of you.

you were a moaning mess, his fingers bringing you closer and closer to your high but then he suddenly pulled them out of you. “wha-“ you began but daryl interrupted you mid-sentence by gripping your waist and turning you around.

“can’t wait any longer.” he mumbled sharply as you heard him fiddling with his belt. with heavy breaths you stared over your shoulder and caught him unzipping his pants. hastily, he pulled down his boxers, making his fully erect cock spring free.

he pumped himself a few times, precum already dripping from the tip, before he stepped closer toward you.

daryl quickly guided his redend tip to your slick entrance, rubbing it up and down teasingly. “ready?” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. you frantically nodded your head and when you finally felt him push into you, your world turned upside down.

there was no other feeling, than his cock stretching you painfully open, that could make you feel this euphoric.

with a rough thrust of his hips he bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass. a loud whimper escaped your throat, followed by strings of sinful moans. daryl’s head arched back at your tight walls wrapping around him so deliciously. “never gonna get tired of your tight lil’ pussy.” he growled, immediately starting off with a fast pace, not giving you any chance to get used to his size.

his hands gripped your hips tightly and he just increased his speed, making sure you could feel every inch of him. you yearned it, desperately trying to meet each thrust. “you’re so big, daddy.” you yelped, eyes rolling to the back of your skull at his bruising thrusts. “ya can take it.” he growled in reply.

the sound of your skin clapping together lingered in the air, only mushing your brains up. daryl pushed your legs apart and made you arch your back painfully, allowing the tip of his cock to brush exactly against that one spot, nestled deep inside of you, that made you go feral. your nails scraped harshly against the tree bark, eyes tightly closed. “you like that, huh?” he asked you breathlessly, “you like my cock stretching you open?” he pistoned into you like a man on a mission.

“yes! i love it!” you purred as he continued to fuck you straight into oblivion. “dirty whore.” daryl growled as he sent a harsh slap to your ass, receiving a high pitched moan from you. to add fuel to your pleasure, he reached around your middle and let his middle finger draw messy circles on your puffy clit. “god, daryl! don’t stop!” you cried out, feeling your orgasm slowly build up.

daryl himself was close to his high, hammering into your tight hole in an animalistic way. your knees began to buckle as he flicked his finger faster- determined to coax an orgasm out of you.

he knew exactly what you liked and how you liked it to get you to your release in an instant.

“gonna cum?” daryl whispered in your ear, kissing the spot just beneath it. “mhm, close.” you managed to let out—his dick was the only thing in you could really think of.

daryl rolled his hips even rougher and quicker than you thought was possible, his cock twitching uncontrollably- always a sign that he was on the verge of cumming. “‘m gonna cum.” he utterly growled through gritted teeth. the only thing that daryl wanted more than anything was to feel you gush all over his cock. “me too!” you whimpered pathetically, knowing that you will cum any second.

“now.” daryl commanded, using a second finger on your clit. “oh my fucking—” a scream tore from your throat, interrupting yourself with another yelp. you were sent straight to heaven as a powerful orgasm took over your whole body.

quick gasps left your mouth as you clutched on the tree in any way you could.

feeling you cum around him and your pussy clamping down on his shaft, daryl’s hips began to stutter as the contraction sent him over the edge with you.

he kept rubbing your now sensitive nub and slammed his hips a few more times against your ass before they sputtered to a stop. reluctantly, he pulled out of your pussy, a sharp hiss falling from your lips.

“was that enough prove?” he mocked you while smacking your ass.

“maybe.” you replied defiantly and pulled your jeans and panties up, still trying to catch your breath.

“you’ll never learn to shut that cheeky mouth of yours.” he stated irritatingly, adjusting his pants as well.

“nope.”

REQUESTS ARE OPENED <3

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sweetheartbitesb4ck · 1 month ago

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part one || part two || part three || this is part four || part five

The weeks following your first 'date' with Simon were full of going on little walks together, but most of all? The pings, to say the least. He would text you so often it came as a shock to you he even had a job. You found it amusing, sure, maybe even annoying, but you hadn't anticipated the sheer silence when he was 'away with work', as he put it.

You had guessed that meant deployed or something of the sorts... and it worried you, yeah, but your feelings for him were still new and you didn't want to get hurt if anything was to happen.

You'd been excited when he'd promised to write to you a few days before he left, but as the days flew by with nothing more than some bills, bank statements and late birthday cards dropping through the letter box it occurred to you that Simon Riley had been too blown away when he first saw you in your house to remember the road name, and far to drunk when he first spoke to you to remember the number on your front door.

So Simon sat there when he wasn't fighting or in briefings and had downtime (which was rare) writing letters he knew he couldn't send away, partly because it was a risk to send stuff away and partly because he would just blank on your god damn address every single time.

He didn't even have his phone because of something to do with trackers and intel and it was all a bit of a fuzz of unconfirmed information that Simon had explained to on a walk a few days before his departure.

This is what worried you. You obviously knew the dangers, and you two weren't even 'official' yet, but you would have liked to be updated. You couldn't help but feel a bit sick when your mind travelled to the horrors his job could boast.

Prior to his deployment, you and Simon had got to know each other a little better, which only made your nerves worse now you had more of a bond, plus you had gotten to see the less flustered version of him. You'd mostly talked over the phone but had also gone on a few walks together. It felt weird; missing someone you'd so quickly fallen for. You could only hope as the days blurred into weeks then into months.

Then, two months later, Simon was back. He'd been resting and getting medical support for a day or two before he journeyed home, and his first thought? It was to retrace his steps down that one road to that house with the open window that had changed everything. He could have slept, unpacked, done anything, but all he wanted to do was to see you.

You groan as you hear a knock against the door... you'd just about drifted off after hours and hours of tossing and turning, your head reluctant to rest. Trudging downstairs, you pull on a hoodie over your pyjamas. "Who the fuck..?" You murmur, clicking on the hallway light and unbolting the door, ready to dive back into bed.

"What?" You grumble as you swing the door just a crack open, your eyes widening and breath hitching at seeing that tall frame and skull mask. You slam it shut, fumbling to unlatch the door and burst it open, flying into the bulky man's arms and screaming.

Simon grins under the balaclava, stumbling backwards slightly as you bounce onto him. "You alright?" He asks, his voice so nonchalant even as you wrap your arms around him. Probably still trying to seem cool for you.

You pull back, face still covered in shock. "Fucking alright? That's all you have to say?" You cry, voice a few pitches higher than usual. "Fuck, Simon... you said you would write!" You mumble, leaning back in to hug him. Part of you wanted to say there forever, holding him there and squeezing him as hard as you could, but you knew you should probably invite him in. So that's what you do.

"Well," Ghost replies, shoving his hands into the big pockets of his tactical jacket as he steps inside, shutting the front door behind him and following you to the kitchen "I didn't know your address," He admits, smirking as you raise an eyebrow at him and snicker. "Oh yeah," You chuckle slightly, trying to refrain from smothering the poor bloke as he takes a seat at your table. "Tea?" You tilt your head and glance at the kettle.

"I hate t-" Simon bites the inside of his cheek and curses under his breath. Fuck... He thinks, realising him lying about loving the drink would probably wean him into having it regularly. "Tea's great," He nods, noting how you raise your eyebrows, expression sceptical.

His mind flicks back to Soap's so called relationship advice, the words "honesty is key" in that loud Scottish accent rattling through his mind. "Okay fine," He grunts, avoiding eye contact. "I hate tea. Can't bloody stand the stuff."

You huff with amusement, flicking the kettle off and rifling through your cabinet. "I'm out of coffee,"

You and Simon chatted for hours, sitting at the table. At first, he was jittery, but he soon relaxed, trying to stop staring at you, although this was hard as he finds you so breathtakingly perfect.

A few hours later, you tilt your head and smile at Ghost as he yawns. "You must be tired," You say softly, leaning on the counter.

Simon nods, rubbing his eyes sarcastically. "It's probably too late to walk home, aye," He says, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah," You respond, scratching your neck with a mock confusion. "Lucky I have a double bed, eh?"

"You're sure?" Asks Ghost, his nervous expression from the coffee shop returning to his face. He was still terrified of scaring you away, but wanted nothing more than to collapse onto your bed and just hold you. You nod, smiling gently. "Come on." Taking your hand, Simon follows you upstairs to your cosy room, allowing himself to relax, stop being awkward. The decoration alone made him feel at home, probably because it shone with your personality.

And with that, the two of you curled up on the mattress, Ghost pulling you towards him, arms firm around you as he let the gentle rise and fall of your chest guide him to sleep.

Never in a million years would he have predicted this if he was asked about his future a few months ago, but here you were, two awkward and unsure people falling in love from nowhere.

Love. Simon was sure that's what that feeling was... the one that had seized his whole being since he first set eyes upon you.

thank you sm for reading! I hope you enjoyed part four..! if anyone wants a part five, I'll most likely do it, ( I just need to figure out what I'd write... probably something about the letters) but yea if u want that just let me know.... also, feel free to make any asks for fics u would like to see :)

sorry if my posting is irregular for a while! I'm back at uni and work after the Christmas break so very busy

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partiallysame · 6 hours ago

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OK OK OKK JUUSTT LISTEN TO ME ON THIS ONE PLEAASEEEE. what about price's lil missus (or mister, we're gender inclusive here!) getting captured by makarov and being held for ransom. NEED to see this in your writing

No you’re so right Price’s lil missus can also be his lil mister. His lil love his lil dove. Not sure if I’ve used pronouns other than the term missus but we are inclusive here (also it’s on my list to write more male reader too)

Ok ok ok I think when the boys first moved in Simon was appalled at the lack of security. He immediately put in alarms on the doors and a tracker on your car (with your concern although he would’ve even if you said no. Safety is not an option). You had turned the beep on the front door off bc that’s annoying to hear everytime you open it buttttt if the door was ever left open for too long Simon would get an alert in his phone. Usually just you leaving it open when doing something in the yard or grabbing something from your car buttt this time he got the notification and checked the cameras to see you being carried kicking and screaming into a suv. Suddenly they’re in a military humvee tracking the car on traffic cameras. Price cursing himself bc he kept you a secret for a reason. Covert ops meant a covert personal life was the safest option.

While you were Price’s sweet dove you were anything but docile he simply wouldn’t leave you alone for work without knowing you could protect yourself. Makarov was not expecting the sweet lil thing his men grabbed to somehow get a knife into two of his men. But you know, gun pressed to your head helps everyone calm down. So you found yourself tied up in a dark room. The idiot Russian barely had a moment to take the ransom photo before he heard the gunshots outside. The door was exploded open (not their first idea but the fastest). On the way to you they had to discuss how to handle the situation bc they always did their best to make sure civilians weren’t harmed in this situation but now it’s you. It’s the sweet love of their lives. They wanted to rescue you without adding more trauma than already caused. Before the dust settles from the door you saw Johnny full tac gear. A uniform you’ve only ever seen in photos. Emerging behind him was Kyle and a man in a skeleton mask. Johnny found your gaze, his hand motioned over his own eyes, signaling you to close yours. You did and the room got so unbelievably loud. Eyes shut tight, you felt strong arms wrap around you, lifting and carrying you from the room and the noise. When the ringing in your ears stopped enough you could hear your husband’s voice trying to coax you to open your eyes. His hands working to untie you, too scared to bring a knife near you to just cut the restraints off. When you finally opened your eyes, he watched your body untense. Body falling into his only to feel more arms wrap around you from the back. Sobs falling from you and the men around you. Not so big tough when it comes to your life. You looked down and could see the skeleton mask resting on the floor. “Spooky mask Simon.” Your lil quip brought a small smile to their faces. You were ok. You were safe and still yourself. As they guided you to the humvee you tried to turn to look at where you were being held hostage “no nope nope eyes forward sweetheart” just because you were forced to experience some of their job didn’t mean they wanted you to see all of it. They had been chasing makarov for so long but his mistake of coming after Prices lil wife caused him a bullet (or 4) to the head

#prices lil wife #cod x reader #tf 141 #poly!141 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod modern warfare #blurb #kyle gaz garrick #john price #captain price #ghost #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #ghost x reader

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dualityvn · 16 days ago

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Keith would turn to hypnosis or brainwashing to make us love him if he’s fully snapped…?

Could I maybe please request a drabble about that por favor 🥹

Sweet Vacation

CW: kidnapping, brainwashing, fork harassment

Word count: 1345

You ignored the first signs that Keith wasn’t doing well mentally. When he’d turn his back to you at night and sob silently, you’d pretend not to hear it. When he’d spend his evenings staring out the window for hours on end, eyes glazed over, you’d find things to busy yourself with.

It did annoy you when he put a tracker on you. The fight that followed only made things worse. He became constantly paranoid, asking to hear your voice every hour you weren’t home, having breakdowns when you so much as left the room he was in.

There was no doubt that he wouldn’t accept it if you tried to break up with him. You never bothered to start the conversation. You simply packed your things one day, blocked his number and left.

Unfortunately, he’d used more than one tracker.

- - -

You awaken to an unfamiliar hardwood floor, head pounding and limbs stiff. So stiff, in fact, that you aren’t able to move them. Your eyes shoot open as you tug on the ropes tying your limbs to the chair you're sitting in.

The room you’re in is unfamiliar, a lavish living room with wooden walls and a large fireplace. A sweet, mind-numbing fragrance catches your attention. Possibly, the herbs burning in a bowl on the coffee table before you. All the curtains are drawn, so you fail to see anything outside. You can’t remember how or when you got here.

The sound of footsteps approaching brings your attention to the closed door. Keith appears from behind it, looking much more frazzled and unkept than usual. His hair is a bit messy, he’s not wearing the usual concealer under his eyes and his collar is askew.

“My love! You're awake!” He rushes over to you.

“Keith! What the hell did you do to me? Where am I?!”

He shushes you as he caresses your cheek. You want to scream at him, fight against your restraints, yank yourself away from his touch. But for some reason, as soon as those thoughts enter your mind, they fade away.

“Everything's alright, dear. You're safe now. I'm sorry about the ropes, but there was no other way. I'll take them off once they're not needed anymore.”

There is nothing sane in his gaze. His eyes are big and alert and his smile is too wide for comfort.

“Where are we?” you ask, much calmer than you'd like.

“Somewhere where nobody will bother us! Don't worry, it's just the two of us.”

You don't know what he's done to you, but your fear, anger and alarm are all much too mild.

“Oh! I've made you lunch! Let me grab it for you before it gets cold.”

He rushes off through the door, then returns with a plate of food and a fork. The sight and smell of it makes your stomach grumble. For how long were you out?

“I hope you like it! Open wide!” Keith holds some of it out in front of you.

Thoughts of turning away or refusing the food pass through your mind, then leave just as fast. You reluctantly open your mouth.

Even when he's crazy, he manages to make infuriatingly good food. You do not complain about being fed the entire plate. If you want to try to get out of this situation, you'll need the energy anyway.

“You ate everything! Good job!” he praises you cheerfully.

Then, he looks down at the fork in his hand. His eyes flicker between it and your mouth for a moment. Until they eventually settle on you as he brings the fork near his face and licks the part that's been in your mouth. Once his tongue reaches the tips of the tines, he sticks them entirely in his mouth.

You stare at him, dumbfounded. Before you can say anything about it, he sets the fork back on the plate and turns to leave.

“I'll bring you a glass of water! Can't let you get dehydrated!”

What the hell was that? How far gone is he?

You finally get your brain to cooperate and attempt to struggle against your bindings. Unfortunately, they're tight and secure. Looking around, you can't spot anything sharp enough to cut them.

When Keith returns, he's brought back not only your glass of water but also a small satchel. You eye it curiously as he helps you drink.

And once it's done, he sets down the glass and opens up the satchel. It's full of herbs, some of which he places in the bowl with the others. That mind number scent hits you again. Any thought you'd had of escaping is beginning to blur.

As if reading your thoughts, Keith answers. “Just a little something to help you relax! I know you're probably quite stressed.”

He puts the satchel away and picks up a book instead. “How about I read you something? That way you won't be bored!”

You want to say no, you want to reason with him, ask him to let you go, convince him none of this is necessary. But none of it leaves your lips.

“Okay,” you say instead.

- - -

It's been two days since Keith locked you up in this house. He's fed you and kept you hydrated. When he's not been taking care of you, he's been keeping you entertained or simply chatted with you.

Perhaps it's your fault you've ended up this way. You ignored the signs that he wasn't doing well. You weren't a very good partner overall.

This morning he made you heart shaped pancakes with strawberries. It was kind of cute.

Perhaps you don't need to escape, perhaps he will snap back to reality and release you himself. The two of you aren't good for each other.

- - -

Four days have passed since Keith brought you here. He untied you from the chair but kept your wrist handcuffed to his to make sure you don't run away.

It's a pretty nice vacation home. Apparently you're in the mountains. The view from the balcony is stunning. Although it gave you a bit of a fright when you woke up here four days ago, it isn't so bad.

Keith still insists that you let him prepare meals, despite you being able to help now. You can't believe you treated him so coldly before. When he discovered you had bruises on your wrists from the rope, he cried and kissed them better.

At night, when you get ready for bed, he asks if he can cuddle you. If you say no, he keeps his distance. When you do give him permission, he holds you tight and whispers that he loves you. He smells sweet, a bit like burnt herbs.

- - -

It's been a week since the start of your little vacation. You took a walk through the forest this morning, hand in hand with your beloved boyfriend. He told you about the plants that grow here and which ones are safe to eat. He's so smart!

When you got back, you made lunch together. He’s been a bit down and anxious the past few days, but today he was in good spirits. Though he still won't tell you where he got the new perfume he's been wearing. It's so sweet, it makes you want to hold him close constantly.

Now that it's evening, you're both sitting on the couch, cuddling as you watch TV. Keith holds you against his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. You feel safe here.

“I love you,” you murmur.

He stiffens at once. Thinking there must be something wrong, you pull away to look at him. A mixture of shock and joy battles on his features.

“I love you too!” Tears are spilling from his eyes.

You laugh and cup his face, holding it still so you can kiss away his tears. Your boyfriend is so sentimental. His hand brushes over your chin, silently asking you to lean down. His lips quiver against yours, soft and uncertain. You press in lovingly.

Even the taste of his lips is sweet.

#duality game #duality keith #duality drabble #yandere

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