dopedreamobject

[dopedreamobject]

May we have more gator!reader as a treat? Lol

Gator!reader who literally never growls, so when it happens you know damn well to obey.

This new batch of recruits is just horrible. How the hell they passed basic with all limbs intact is a mystery to you. Worse than that, they're downright disrespectful.

A sore lot of humans and hybrids that seem to think their whispered remarks go unheard. Always half-assing things then complaining when they get punished. You note that they're lucky ghost and the sergeants are out on an op, because ghost probably would have killed one by now.

Its fucking miserable out, or it is to most people. Rain coming down in sheets. You have them shooting at the range, having noticed early on they're only good in the positions tested on, change the conditions and its useless. Theyre making use of the cover the rain provides to chat amongst themselves between rounds. Its almost enough to get you to yell, but you take a mild mercy.

Youre in the middle of correcting a soldiers stance when a fucking bullet lodges into the wall a foot from your head. The range goes dead quiet as you whip around to see one of the guys with a rifle held up mid-gesture, frozen as he stares in horror.

A growl rips out of your chest. Echoes and thuds in ur lungs like an engine, the sheer force of it enough to vibrate the water that rains onto you. Deep, primordial, dangerous as you stalk closer to the group. Suddenly everyone is keen on muzzle control, eyes locked on you.

"Private Anderson," you begin, words distorted with your next bellow. "Im glad you feel confident enough in your skills to disregard basic techniques."

You turn to address the squad "you hear that guys? Anderson thinks we're done with the range! Yknow, I agree! Everyone into formation, grab your pack, we're running laps!"

The only noise is the shuffle of wet fabric and rain pelting the mud. You do have them run laps, until they're throwing up and gasping in pain. You make sure to remind them that a bit of pain is nothing compared to killing a comrade over a stupid mistake.

They dont stop until dinner rolls around, trudging into the mess hall looking half-dead.

They never forget that night, and they certainly never forget the terror the sound of ur bellow stirred in them.

[dopedreamobject]

obsessed with mrs. price who genuinely doesn’t give a fuck that her husband is a captain. don’t bring that authoritative tone home john. the missus ain’t about to have it.

[dopedreamobject]

At the end of the joint mission with Shadow Company and 141, waiting for the next orders. Price: I still hate you, you know. Graves: Considering you were staring at my ass not too long ago- Shadow 2-1: *Over Grave's Radio* Shadow 2-1 to Shadow 0-1, copy? Graves: Solid Copy 2-1, what's going on? Shadow 2-1: We have had a discussion and have reached a settlement for our demand. Graves: And what would that be, 2-1? Shadow 2-1: We demand McDonald's, to get drunk and to go to Six Flags.

Graves: And why would I do that 2-1? Shadow 2-1: It would be great to mention that 4-3 didn't miss a single headshot in 3 months. Price: Ghost hasn't missed one in several years. Graves: Shush, stud muffin, *Speaking back to the radio* Are you trying to bribe me? Shadow 2-1: Is it working? Graves: Shadow 2-1: Sooooo...? Graves: Tell you what, you organise it, I'll pay for it, deal? Shadow 2-1: Deal. *Distant shouting* WE GETTIN' FUCKED UP TONIGHTS BOYS!!!!! *Distant Excited screaming over the radio* Price: *Stares at Graves* Graves: *Stares at Price back* Price: Graves: Well, at least they're having fun. Price: You mind if my boys and I join you? Graves: The more the merry darlin'~

[dopedreamobject]

(image description: a three panel drawing with very simple sketched lines and only a little quick coloration. it depicts a woman sitting at a desk, with a computer keyboard, musing aloud; "sometimes I wish my creative works would just make themselves...", after which she is startled by the arrival of a stick figure with a square head labeled "generative AI," which replies; "I can do that." the final panel is the only one with detailed color and lighting, showing the artist whipping out a pencil-shaped laser gun and exploding the AI entity. end description.)

had a conversation in a writing server, decided to make a meme about it.

[dopedreamobject]

My edo period samurai roommate keeps telling me how i’ll bring shame and dishonor to our apartment if I keep forgetting to wash the dishes. Like whatever dude, I’m not the one carrying on a passionate yet illicit affair with the daimyo’s daughter whose hand has already been promised to another.

[dopedreamobject]

Did...did yall know rattlesnakes can be caught in copulation for an entire day??? Uhm anyways naga!gaz and human!readers first mating season together...

To his credit, kyle is very up front with you about what his season would entail. Made sure to explain the whole process to you, even showing you some videos to make sure you understood (and to watch you squirm)

But nothing could prepare you for when the day actually came. A lazy morning inside kyles den, blankets and pillows curled into a circle to hold the two of you. It was hardly even 3am when his hands started rubbing along your thighs and stomach, long tail curled around and over you at points. "Mm...today the day baby?" You ask sleepily.

"Yeah, gonna fill you up real nice, okay?" Kyle, ever the gentleman, asks even as he pulls down you sleep pants. You spread your legs so he can take out the plug youve been wearing most nights, knowing hed be too desperate to properly stretch you day of.

Kyles tail curls around you tighter when you buck instinctively at his fingers sliding into you, testing the waters. Usually kyle would draw it out and wait until ur begging for him, but he seems just as desperate today. Already lining up one of his cocks with ur entrance. "Hold still for me baby, just gotta- fuck yeah- there we go."

The stretch isnt too bad, considering ur used to taking one, but then kyle reaches down to line up the second and u have to force urself to relax. The stretch is mind-numbing, a sense of fullness that has you teetering on the edge without his moving at all.

Kyle only gives you a moment to adjust before properly wrapping himself around you, a tight embrace as his cocks rock in and out. Each stroke has you fighting not to cum, but kyle isnt much better. He whines against ur neck, licking over ur veins when both cocks finally slide all the way in and *stay* there.

"Hah- shit-" kyle whines, momentarily squeezing your body until you go limp, his cum pulsing hot and heavy inside you "mmm youre perfect, honey. Take me so well."

Thats not nearly the end, no. You stay locked together, his tail coiled over you instinctively as a movie plays on ur laptop. Every half hour or so another spurt of cum will splash into you, making you feel impossibly full. Kyle whispers softly to you the whole time, affectionate as he is during his season.

When he finally pulls out a bit past midnight, a flood of cum follows too. It absolutely drenched ur sheets, covered ur thighs and soaks into kyles scales. He makes a pathetic whines, while you can hardly think with the suddenly release of pressure. What is probably your 14th orgasm washing over you.

After checking that ur okay, kyle hooks his chin over ur shoulder, kisses ur jaw and whispers "so....ready to do that again tomorrow?"

[dopedreamobject]

"Who's that?"

Soap can't grudge the other man's nosiness, there's fuck all for he or Ghost to do currently but await the arrival of Gaz and the Captain.

"Ma brer, dolled up fir some fuck off cousins wad'n."

The other man offers him a grunt in response, leaning over to look at his phone screen.

"You're the looker of the family, with that hair? Tragic."

Despite the insult, he snorts. Ghost's dry humour is the only thing keeping him stable in his boredom.

"Aye, fair enough. He's doesnae huv the arse fir a kilt bit he's git a face fir a paper bag."

It's a special kind of delight to hear Simon's soft huff of laughter.

[dopedreamobject]

Nikolai is a tit pincher. Neither Simon nor John is safe as they wander around the flat. Shirtless? Tits pinched. Thin t-shirt? You're getting it.

John leans over to glance at something on Nikolai's phone? Nikolai has his nipple between his fingers before John can even read the text in front of him.

Simon turns his back on the man while they're in the kitchen? Nikolai is grabbing a handful of tit and digging his nails in.

And so, like the mature men they are, they develop their own forms of retaliation.

Nikolai makes the mistake of bending over to pick up a sock off of the floor? Simon's hand meets his arse with such force that the crack draws John out of the other room.

The pilot spends the rest of the day walking stiff as a board and by the end of the night he has a hand shaped bruise over his left cheek.

John has to squeeze past Nikolai in the hallway after the man wakes up and is less than careful about groping the Russian's cock over his boxers on his way by.

When Nik tries to grab his wrist as John walks away, John simply shakes his head and nods down to his tits, the skin red and raw.

Unfortunately, it doesn't stop Nikolai. It encourages him. But the amount of times they have sex in a week doubles.

[dopedreamobject]

John is surprisingly good at sobering up before he sleeps. Down two bottles of water and have something to eat before collapsing into bed and conking out for the night.

The morning is evidence enough that Nikolai does not share the skill. He's awakened by thunderous footsteps heading towards the bathroom and violent retching only broken by a string of curses in at least three languages.

He offers the Russian the facade of privacy, only tiptoeing towards the doorway when he knows Nikolai is done spewing to help drag the man back to bed.

He leaves a bottle of water by the nightstand, condensation dripping down onto the wood and leaves two ibuprofen beside it. He leaves the room to laugh at how Nikolai wraps a blanket around his head to block out any sort of light.

And he's kind enough to only mention food when the pilot can take a deep breath without gagging.

He does, however, frame the photo of the other man sprawled over their bed as he tries to bury himself in the mattress and gift it to Nikolai for his birthday.

[dopedreamobject]

ghost tying a balloon to his spouse when they go shopping because they like to wander off

you’d say you’re not easily distracted. you’d be lying, evidently. your husband was the exact opposite. he treated errands like missions—find the objective, take objective, finish objective, then go home and cuddle. he was your polar opposite, in this sense.

where he lacked in spontaneity, you filled in the gaps. which did mean he lost you. a lot. you were a newborn puppy to his disciplined malinois, and on more than one occasion, he'd look behind him to find you gone. which, more often than not, meant he'd find you window shopping outside, or playing with some poor old woman's chihuahua.

so, the only logical answer was to tie a balloon to your wrist. you'd pouted up at him--"I'm not a kid, Si!"

too bad for you, because he wasn't budging. "We're goin' to the mall, sweets. Gotta keep y'visible."

and he was right. it only took ten minutes of being in the mall for you to wander off. but this time, the very bright, star-shaped balloon told him exactly where you were. so he'd sighed, started walking towards the balloon, only to find some kid with the very balloon he'd given you.

fucking hell.

when he finds you again, he's scooping you up into his arms, carrying you--grunting into your ear, "Now why the hell'd you give the balloon to some kid, ey?"

"...he asked nicely?"

"...bloody fuckin' woman," he sighs, pats you on the ass and... doesn't put you down. and he won't. because you've proved that you're awfully terrible at staying near him... so he'll just keep you instead.

[dopedreamobject]

John isn't sure how he picks up on it. He's lying with his head on Nikolai's bare chest, trying to blink away sleep when he notices it. The smalled of scars.

"Why have you got a scar on your nipple?"

Nikolai offers him a quiet hum of acknowledge as he sits his book down, glancing at the Captain on his chest.

"Nipple ring."

It's such a simple answer and yet John's eyes widen, he finds himself sitting up and stating at the Russian in disbelief.

"You had a nipple ring?"

It seems so inconceivable but knowing Nikolai? There's photo evidence out there somewhere.

"Yes, if you had been quicker to accept my advances then you could've gotten to see it."

He narrows his eyes at Nikolai, glancing from the man's tired brown eyes to his nipple.

"Get another one and I'll get my mouth on it."

It would be comical just how quickly Nikolai goes from exhausted to lustful if it weren't for the hand groping over his boxers.

[dopedreamobject]

⭑.ᐟ

thinking of caleb handcuffing mc to the bed and not being able to find where the keys are after they fuck so hard… they’re just lost bro. and the problem is they’re not just any shabby pair of handcuff’s from your average sex shop (of course they’re not) they’re his handcuffs that he uses at the fleet base. so they’re like, military grade type shit.

so here he is, trying not to completely panic in front of her. and he’s totally trying to play it off by saying he left them somewhere else in the house and she’s just sitting there waiting for him to find them until it dawns on her that he’s been taking a little too long.

“caleb…” her voice is full of warning and simmering worry. he pads down the hallway slowly.

“okay, i know where they are. they’re just not… here.”

“then, pray do tell, where the hell are they?” she’s trying her best not to yell at him. bitch mode was about to be activated if he didn’t resolve this shit asap.

he’s still naked, cock bobbing as he walks towards her. his hair is rumpled from his hands anxiously running through them, garnering scratch marks and bruises down his neck and chest.

“… they’re in my office. i texted liam to bring them to me. he shouldn’t take too long.”

she huffs in annoyance, twitching her arms that are sore and still pinned above her to the headboard.

“okay. wanna tell me why you’re still hard?”

caleb smiles sheepishly, kneeling between her legs again as he gets back onto the bed.

“okay don’t be mad. but you’re like… so hot like this. like, at first it was for fun. buuut now you’re super stuck.”

she rolls her eyes and huffs out a breath, her fringe moving from her face.

“bastard.”

he smirks, hand snaking around her neck again, lips kissing down her soft skin.

“we have 6 minutes left ‘til he gets here. be a good girl, yeah?”

[dopedreamobject]

Rudy is content to let them play as he sits watching.

Alejandro getting taken apart by a heavy handed Russian and an Englishman with fingers that were truly sinful, he loses nothing sitting back to appreciate the show.

That's why he doesn't expect to find himself manhandled into Nikolai's lap as the sounds of John Price three fingers deep in his partner fill the room.

Nikolai achieves something that few men have in Rudy's life, the pilot makes him seem small. A big burly man with a smile like butter wouldn't melt as his hands grope at Rudy over the damp farbic of his boxers.

"Ah, so you are interested?"

It doesn't escape his interest that the man purrs his words and Rudy can feel the rumble in his chest, it sends shivers down his spine and it makes his clit throb.

He can barely get a word out before Nikolai is nuzzling against his face, stubble brushing against his cheek. He can smell the man's aftershave and he wants to drown in it.

"Sitting all alone just waiting for someone to crawl over and make you cum."

It's only ask Nikolai picks him up by the wiast and plants his thigh between Rudy's legs that the sergeant major thinks to clasp his hands behind the other man's neck.

The look in Nikolai's eyes is predatory and the whine that leaves his lips solidifies his role as prey.

"You'll cum on my thigh and thank me for it, won't you?"

Rudy has never before stumbled over a one syllable word but there's a first time for everything.

[dopedreamobject]

Kidnaped and…kind of thriving

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader

Summary: When Talia al Ghul discovers that her son has a partner, she does what any loving, overbearing assassin mother would do—she kidnaps you.

You knew dating Damian Wayne would come with a few… complications. The Batfamily. The League of Assassins. The fact that he carried more knives than is physically possible for one person.

You wake up with cold stone under your cheek and an unmistakable headache pounding behind your eyes.

Which is… concerning.

Mostly because you went to bed in Gotham. In your own bed. In Damian’s hoodie. And this?

This isn’t your bed.

This is a marble floor.

You sit up too fast and instantly regret it. But even through the nausea, you take in your surroundings: ornate, ancient walls, tapestries older than most cities, a faint whiff of incense and iron.

This is some kind of League of Assassins stronghold. And if that wasn’t enough of a tip-off—

“She wakes,” comes a voice, cool and sharp as a blade.

Your stomach drops.

The shadows moved, and then she stepped into the glow. Elegant, poised, terrifying.

Talia al Ghul. Immaculate. Deadly. Green eyes like twin laser sights boring into your soul.

Damian’s mother, the resemblance was clear.

“You’ve been dating my son.”

Right. Straight to business.

You blink. “This seems like an extreme way to ask for my intentions.”

Talia raises a brow. “And yet you’re not crying.”

“Not yet, I still have time to pencil that in though, if you’d like.”

“Hm.” She circles you like a panther, examining you like a potential weapon or a bug under a microscope. “He didn’t mention you were brave.”

You stand up slowly, brushing off the dust. “Did he mention I don’t like being drugged and dragged halfway across the world?”

“No.” A thin smile, then a sadder one. “We don’t talk often.”

“…Cool. Cool cool cool. So this just another Tuesday for you?” You say, rather calmly.

She watched you with the faintest hint of amusement. “You’re not panicking.”

“I mean. I feel like panicking gives you the upper hand.” You shrugged, “Plus, totally not my first kidnapping.”

“You’re smart,” she said, leaning back. “Mouthy.”

You raised a brow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You shouldn’t.” But the corners of her mouth twitched. “Let’s begin.”

“Begin what?”

She tilted her head. “The evaluation.”

“…Sorry?”

“The assessment,” she clarified, looking at you like you were slow.

“You’re evaluating me?”

Talia nodded once. “That is what I said.”

You gaped at her.

“I will not tolerate mediocrity.”

“Lady, I survived Thanksgiving with the Waynes. I’m already battle-hardened.”

“…You might actually be interesting,” she murmured.

You gave her a bland smile. “So glad I’m exceeding expectations.”

Damian Wayne is having the worst morning of his life.

You’re not answering your phone. Your location tracker is offline. Your building’s security footage shows a figure in black entering your apartment and disabling every camera in seconds.

“Where is she?!” Damian’s voice cracked like a whip across the Batcave, sharp with panic.

“Relax,” said Dick, holding up his hands. “She’s probably just—”

Damian pulls the last seconds of footage he has again.

Jason straightened. “Okay. Not great.”

“Who’d be stupid enough to kidnap your girlfriend?” Tim muttered. “Seriously. You’d think people would learn.”

Damian’s lips curled into a snarls he reviews the footage again.

He recognizes the silhouette.

Of course he does.

“Mother,” he growls under his breath, slamming his fist into the desk.

“You have guts,” Talia said, circling you like a lioness. “Most people don’t look me in the eye.”

You gave her a tight smile. “Most people haven’t dated your son.”

Talia paused. “And yet you still do.”

“Yeah. Crazy, right?”

“You know what he is,” she said quietly. “What he was trained to be. What he will become if he’s not careful.”

You nodded. “I do.”

“And still?”

“And still.”

She nods once, impressed. “I thought my spy was joking when he said you weren’t entirely useless.”

You raise a brow. “High praise.”

“Damian’s always been too sentimental. His heart is a weakness. He cannot afford attachments.”

You fold your arms. “And yet here we are.”

She watches you in silence for a long time. Then she stops in front of you, arms folded.

“What do you see in him?”

You blinked.

“What do I—what?”

“What. Do. You. See. In. Him.”

“…That’s your question?”

She arched a brow. “Answer it.”

You shrug. “He’s a lot. Arrogant, stubborn, overprotective.” You smile faintly. “And he’s loyal. Honest in a way no one expects. He tries so hard to be good, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”

You took a breath. “I see someone who’s trying harder than anyone I’ve ever met. Who’s furious at the world but still gets up every day to protect it. Someone who’s never been shown how to love, but does it anyway—awkwardly, stubbornly, and fiercely.”

Talia stared.

“And he’s funny.” You smile, you could talk about him for hours. “When he wants to be. He pretends not to be, but he makes me laugh. And he listens. And I trust him. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone.”

You met her gaze. Didn’t flinch. “He’s still figuring things out. But he wants to do good, be good.”

“And you love him.”

“Yeah. I do.”

Silence. Long. Measured.

She studies you for a moment longer, then stands. “Walk with me.”

You follow her through the fortress. You expect dungeons. Traps. Hidden daggers.

You get all of that, but also… a garden.

It’s quiet, fragrant with night-blooming flowers. There’s a koi pond. It’s beautiful.

You sit on the edge of the stone bench. Talia watches you from the corner of her eye.

“Most people are terrified of me.”

“I am. Just not enough to let you see it. And for entirely different reasons then everyone else.”

That makes her laugh—an actual laugh, sharp and surprised.

“I see why he likes you.”

“You don’t hate me?”

That makes her laugh—an actual laugh, sharp and surprised.

“I see why he likes you.”

“You don’t hate me?” you ask again, not quite joking.

Talia tilts her head, eyes narrowing in thought. “I don’t know you well enough to hate you.”

“That’s… comforting.”

“But I don’t not like you.” She pauses. “Which, for me, is practically affection.”

You relax slightly. “Well. Thanks for that.”

“I doubted you,” she admits, brushing an invisible thread from her sleeve. “Still do, a little. But that’s habit, not certainty.”

You meet her gaze, steady. “I’d be more worried if you trusted me right away.”

She turns to you.

“If you ever hurt him—”

“I won’t.”

“—I will burn your city to the ground.”

“That seems fair.”

Talia tilts her head, considering you like you’re a rare artifact she’s not sure belongs in her collection.

After a long time of staring, she turns back to the pond and stares some more. Finally she speaks. “I trained him to be invincible,” she says, almost to herself. “He chose to be human.”

You glance at her. “You sound proud.”

She doesn’t respond for a moment.

“I am.”

Damian runs through the halls of the LOA’s homebase, fear in his veins. The League doesn’t take prisoners unless they’re valuable. And to Damian, you are irreplaceable.

By the time Damian found you — thirty-six hours since you’ve been taken, hair askew, cape torn, blood on his sleeve and hell in his eyes — you were sitting on a velvet couch, sipping tea and laughing at something Talia said about Ra’s al Ghul’s disastrous attempt at karaoke in 1987.

Damian froze in the doorway.

“You’re alive,” he said flatly.

You waved. “Hey, babe. I made a friend.”

He crossed the room in quick strides and cups your face, looking you over for anything even as small as a scrape.

“Beloved,” Damian breathes, face etched in panic.

“I’m fine!” you laugh. “Tea was nice.”

He ignores the comment. You barely have time to move before his arms are around you, pulling you in tight. Too tight. You feel his breath shudder.

“I thought—” he starts, then bites it back. “Did she hurt you?”

You shake your head. “Surprisingly? No. Just intense staring and very pointed questions.”

Damian takes a breath and stares at you a moment before he whirls to face his mother. “How dare you—”

“Relax,” Talia says mildly. “She passed.”

“She’s not a test—”

“She’s yours,” Talia interrupts. “Which means she matters to me.”

He falters. You touch his shoulder gently.

“I like her,” Talia says, and Damian freezes like someone hit pause on his brain.

“…You what.”

“Damian,” you cut in, watching him go through the five stages of grief. Skipping Acceptance and going straight to contemplating mind control. “it’s fine. Really. We bonded.”

“…You…bonded.”

“She’s funny when she’s not threatening.”

“She has spine. Wit. Taste.” Talia’s smile is a slow curve. “She reminds me of myself.”

Damian blinked like someone had replaced his entire universe with a sitcom.

“I am… leaving,” he announced.

Talia watches as your pulled away by your boyfriend. “I’ll see you Tuesday.”

——-

And that’s how your Tuesdays started changing.

Every other week, you meet Talia for lunch. Sometimes sushi. Sometimes rooftop garden tea. Once, she took you hawking in the mountains.

She teaches you knife techniques. You teach her how to use emojis properly.

She taught you pressure points. You taught her how to use TikTok.

She critiques your posture. You critique her people skills.

She’d ask about Damian. You’d tell her how he once got stuck in a vending machine trying to retrieve a rogue Batarang.

She laughed. Real laughter. The kind that made waiters pause.

It was nice. Weird. But nice.

You’ve found a rhythm. It’s strange. It’s unexpected.

But every other Tuesday, you and your boyfriend’s assassin mother get lunch.

And somehow, that’s not even the weirdest part of your life.

[dopedreamobject]

[dopedreamobject]

Kon: So you know how we were kissing in the park yesterday?

Tim: How could I forgot?

Kon: Yeah. So like, did you tell your family that you're dating me and Bernard?

Tim: Why would I do that, I like it when they're not privy to my love life.

Kon: Right, right. Anyway, Steph thinks you're cheating on Bernard with me. I can hear her ranting about it right now.

Tim: She's projecting because she cheated on her ex with me.

Kon: Hm. Well the rest of your family, sans Cass, seems pretty up in arms about it too.

Tim: Dick is also projecting. The rest of them, I don't care, I think it's funny when they're confused.

[dopedreamobject]

Smallvillers are Victorian children in that they'd explode if you showed them a spice rack and Gothamites are Victorian children in that they snort six lines before their 16-hour shift at the crime factory