#He's too paranoid to take off his mask | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yandere-romanticaa · 7 months

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¡! ❞ 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑.

❝ he licked his lips, said to me - girl you look good enough to eat - put his arms around me, said - boy, no, get your paws right off me. ❞

yandere! blade x fem! reader.

inspired by the song monster by lady gaga.

The scent of blood. The filth of iron. A shallow echo, followed by the sound of absolute nothingness.

He was close by.

You could feel it.

It was difficult to pinpoint when this song and dance had begun but that was just the way Blade handled everything, as you would come to learn. You could recall bumping into a masked stranger in large crowds on the Lofu - whom you now know is Blade - and finding it odd just how often they would occur. At first it just felt like a simple accident, perhaps the man was just working in a place that was close to your own shop, thus making all the run ins nothing too strange or something worthy to ponder on about.

It all took a turn for worse once you felt the hairs at the back of your neck standing up straight when you would be walking home at night.

The streets would be empty and desolate, not a single soul in sight. You chalked it up to being paranoid, because who wouldn't wouldn't be afraid to walk home alone in the dark? The only thing that could be heard was the sound of a few stray critters and the sound of your own beating heart. Every heartbeat felt like it knocked the air out of you, the pumps getting stronger and stronger with every step you would take. Paranoia would take over your entire mind as you would check behind you every few seconds, to see if there really was a mystery man following you.

All of that fear would be washed away once you'd be in front of your door, the familiar wood calming your nerves as you'd fumble with the keys. With an eager sigh, you'd open the door with lightning speed and shut it just as fast, always double locking it. Your back would be pressed against the wooden frame as you'd put your hand on your chest, checking to see if your poor heart had finally managed to catch a breather.

This routine went on for months. You told your friends about the looming shadow that tailed you for countless nights, how terrified you were and just how unsafe it was for you to be walking home alone. Naturally, the responses were mixed. Some thought that you were just being jumpy, imagining things going bump in the night. It was natural to be scared of the unknown, that was their way of comforting you. The other side was more sympathetic and were more than willing to hear you out. Taking your words seriously, a good friend had offered himself to walk you home from that night onward. His own home was also close to your own so it was pretty much perfect. The two of you made plans on where to meet and what time. You could even treat him to some dinner while you were together, it was the least you could do to repay him for his kindness. Finally, the sun had set and it was time to depart together with your friend. With a pep in your step, you walked towards the rendezvous point and feeling just a bit more confident in this decision. You waited there and checked the time, he was running late. Well, it's not unusual to be a few minutes late, you could wait more.

Five minutes turned into ten.

Ten minutes turned into thirty.

This wasn't alright.

Everything was off once more, the familiar sensation of adrenaline had kicked back in as you looked around for your friend. Where was he? Why didn't he show up? Was this all just a prank to him after all?

Feeling dejected and nervous, you walked back home alone, the lights from the lanterns being your only companions. The familiar sounds of the night were still there, the occasional drunken yell as well.

But the sting that you would feel at the back of your neck, it...

It was not there.

There was no tension, no other presence that you could feel.

You were lost in the darkness.

The next day, you asked around for your friend but they all said the same thing - he had a sudden accident a bit before he was supposed to meet up with you and ended up bludging both his arms and legs. No one knew how it happened and whenever they would ask the guy all he would do is stare back at them, his lips quivering and bloodshot eyes filled to the brim with terror.

It made you want to curl up into a hole in the ground.

Calling in sick, you decided to go home while it was still daylight. The habit of looking behind your shoulder was very much on alert but there was also a sense of calmness in the air. Instead of the cold and chilly night you were walking down a path which was light up with warm light, instead of sounds of creatures looking for their next meal all you could hear were the sound of street vendors and chatter of children. The food smelled delicious and you allowed yourself the luxury of loosening up, just for a little bit. As you rummaged through your purse you came into contact with the familiar feeling of metal keys, the tiny charm you had on them being a dead set indicator. You put the key into the lock but before you twisted it, you turned around one last time to admire the scenery around you.

Happy children and grumpy adults were scattered all over the place, all of them lost in their own little world or they mingled with each other in one way or the other. You were particularly focused on the little boy who was devouring a grilled piece of meat on the stick, the aroma of it almost making your mouth drool. Looking behind your back really wasn't all too bad, especially if you could feast your eyes on the pure serenity which was so close.

Turns out, it was your front which you had to be looking out for.

Just as you opened the door, a tall man with jet black hair was on the other side. He stood perfectly still as he stared down at you, his blood red eyes leering over your body, like a hunter going in for the kill. Dread bubbled in your stomach at an alarming rate but before the scream could come out to the surface, the dark stranger pressed you close to him, one hand holding your waist tightly while the other clamped your mouth shut, not even allowing you to breathe.

"If you even make a sound." he said, his voice gruff but determined.

"I will kill every single person that is standing behind you. Man, woman or child, it does not matter to me."

You wanted to hurl. Your eyes were blown wide open with fear, your entire body shaking with anticipation as his hot breath fanned the shell of your ear. You could feel his teeth ghosting your earlobe, threatening to take a bite whenever he pleased. The hand which was snaked around your waist moved upwards to your back, his bandaged finger tracing the flesh through the fabric of your shirt. No one from the outside world was even paying attention to you and if they did, the two of you probably looked like two love birds who were just thoroughly enchanted with one another.

"You know." said the man, his voice edging on playful now. "I've been watching you for a while now."

You could feel your stomach drop in realization and he too picked up on that fact. He chuckled right in front of your face, his long strands of hair tickling your cheeks. You didn't even realize just how sticky his hands were up until now, you how putrid his scent was, like he had just cut up a carcass and left it for dead under the sun.

"Oh?" he chuckled, his tone fully serious now.

"Don't you recognize the smell of your friend?"

The tears finally kicked in and the sicko in front of you took great pleasure in them. You bawled like a baby in front of him, the horror of knowing that your friend was either dead or dying in a ditch somewhere was just too much to handle. But the creek merely laughed at you, his body shaking with pleasure as he kissed your tears away, his horrid cackles ringing loudly in your eyes. You managed to look at the world behind you one last time, your eyes searching for someone, anyone to help you in this time of need. But no one was there to see you, no one was there to help you.

The last thing you saw was a few strings of light before the stranger kicked the door shut with his foot, sealing you away from any possible freedom.

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bowieandqueen11 · 5 months

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Strawberry and Black Tea / Sanji Imagine

Request: for the fluffy sanji request-- maybe sanji and the reader end up sleeping in each other's rooms one night because its hard for them to sleep apart. reader gives sanji a good night kiss and he just falls into a lovesick puddle on the floor.

Something short and sweet because this idea is so so lovely, thank you anon!! :)

Warning: mentions of child abuse!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes @suuho.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

It was the Iron Mask that had left Sanji with such a distaste for the dark.

Even now, lying tossing and turning in his bunk on the Going Merry, the dark starlight that creeped through the lone porthole seemed to do nothing but shroud his eyes in a long-suppressed misery. It reminded him far too much of home. Of his father. Of nights spent trembling in dank corners: nothing but the touch of flimsy cobwebs against his outreached hands, and the ratchet of his own voice cawing off the empty stone chamber to ease the frightened child.

Until his paranoid eyes couldn’t tell of the receding monstrous shadow shrivelling up the tower was the receding form of his father, or the unyielding loosening of shrill’s death fingers rasping uneasily across the stone wall by his cage, finally come to fulfil her promise to take him away.

She grew closer and closer, until her liripipe seemed to crow through the bars as she leant down through the shadows to kiss his forehead.

He started scrambling back desperately along the dirty dust, still too young and inexperienced with the true hardships of his life to try and face them head on. Instead he buried his head into his crossed arms, tried his hardest to calm his panting breath, closed his eyes and squeezed. It was the only way, he thought in that tumultuous moment, it was the only at he would be able to hold onto his sanity. To pretend it was you. To pretend it was you. To believe it was you.

A rat scurried out of a hole between cracked shackles, sniffing the air as it noticed Sanji cowering in the corner: the same boy who had showed the rodent such kindness only e weeks before, feeding it leftover scraps of his mother’s favourite crumble, trying his best to clear the dish before his father realised it was missing. The poor thing ran over to Sanji’s shoe, it’s tiny claws pinching into the forgotten prince’s skin as it raised its little body up closer to him. But to that child - oh, that poor child - it was like bony fingernails biting into his bone and extruding coarse chills straight to the bone.

She had come. The wrong person had come. So he did what any young child would do. He started screaming.

He screamed your name. He screamed for his ma, until the screams died, choked by the wails sticking in his throat. Then he whimpered, clawing at the metal screwed against his cheeks until his fingernails were left stunted, jagged, bloodied.

He thought about how alone he was, but realised quickly that wasn’t what made him so sad. He thought about you: how you would react, how heartbroken you would be when his father announced to the world that the young Prince has perished in a terrible accident. He imagined your tear streaked face as you would watch the faux funeral procession parade in a cheerful solemnity down past the main market and into the sea, stealing away into the alleyway and seeing how alone you were.

Most of all, he felt guilty. Guilty that this was all his fault. That he had proved his brothers right. He was weak. He had destroyed his mother. He had ruined you. He was weak. And so he crumpled into a ball, falling onto his side and allowing the sweet embrace of the shadows to lap over him.

His cries had quickly fallen into pitiful whimpers. Then quiet sobs, jolting his body forward in convulsions that had left him gasping for breath every few minutes or so, only broken by the almost angelic sound of the iron wrought door being shoved unsteadily open, and the pained whisper from the top of the stairs. ’Sanji? Sanji! Where the- ow- are you?!’

'Y/-Y/n?' He clambered to his knees, and shoved his arms desperately through the bars, as if he could levitate you down towards him. 'I'm here! I'm here - please! Y/n!' His little fists began to bang on the bars as he scraped up to lean on his knees. 'Help me - get me out, please! She's going to kill me!'

It took you less than thirty seconds to scale down the remaining steps, nearly flying chin first down into the dirt. You didn't care though: not when Sanji's fingernails sliced desperately into your skin and burrowed into the meat of your arm, tugging your forehead against the cool metal of his own. You did your best to cup his face between the clunky mask, pressing your fingers down to his neck and pulling him even closer to you. 'It's alright - it's alright. I'm here. I'm going to get you out of here, Sanj. We're going to run, we're going to get away.'

He refused to let you go, even as you bit your lower lip in concentration and wiggled into your pocket to pull out a stash of bobby pins you had pilfered from Vinsmoke Reiju when you had slipped into the castle. Poor Sanji nearly flies backwards onto his behind when you finally manage to click the locked gate open, yet the realisation hardly seems to dawn on him; he's leapt on you in a second flat, knees knocking the wind out of your stomach as he tumbles his torso against your awaiting hug.

'You came', he heaved out between sobs, shoving his grimacing face into the throbbing pulse point on your neck, 'you came back for me... why would you come back for me.'

The absolute dejection in the final warble of his desperate plea made you bite down on your tongue so harshly, you had to shove it against the roof of your mouth for a moment to stop yourself from spluttering on blood. 'Because, Sanj... because you're my best friend. And I love you. And we made a promise, didn't we? We're going to go find the All Blue, but we're only going to do it together. Not one without the other, right?'

He head bobs quickly, desperately. Shaking fingers latch tighter into your back, and although he wants nothing more than to grab onto your fingers and fly to freedom up that winding staircase, he slides his legs to the side and comes to sit awkwardly on your lap like a frail bird. The soft tip of his nose tickles the shell of your ear as he whispers: 'like black tea and strawberry?'

You snort, but nod your head against the side of his curls, tightening your grip around the shaking expanse of his spine. 'Yes chef, like black tea and strawberry. Even though that sounds absolutely disgusting.' His laugh- god, his laugh was so warming, even if the sound cracks, hoarse and low as his face balls up. What was less welcome, though, were the few pearly tears that slipped past the cracks slats covering his eyes and began to trace down an old bruised hollow that lay sharp and gaunt on his neck.

'I'm sorry- I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry-', he starts to panic again, one eye blinking open as he stares into the inky depths of the umbral shade gathering over your heads. 'This is my fault. It's my fault we have to leave.'

'No.' You grab onto his shirt, nearly making him wince, but both of you refuse to unlatch from the other. 'No. This is not your fault. This will never be your fault, and I don't want you to think that for a second.'

The authoritativeness behind your shaking words was almost enough to make him believe you.

He nods slowly, but you can tell he's doing it just to placate you. 'I love you too, by the way', he sniffles, finally leaning back enough so he could wipe what he deemed as an unsightly amount of snot away from his nose. More than you know. More than he could even put into words. More than his young, frightful heart could even yet understand. He's too bashful to look you in the eye, instead skimming his eyes quickly over the torn threads of his kneecap, but finally allowing himself a respite of calm in the knowledge that the love he had been so desperately begging for hadn't abandoned him.

Before the adrenaline could rush out of his body, he leant forward with his head still bowed, and kissed your cheek as best he could in the darkness.

You hadn't left him. You hadn't: you never would. The revelation seems to shift the world around him, coaxing him into believing the sweet twilight sleeting across his eyes was sunlight instead; even though he still felt like his life was spent as a coin flipping through the air, so unsure of where it will land - of where it belongs - of the choices it will wrought, it felt a little easier afterwards, knowing he would eventually land. That it was your hand that would catch him.

He still hated the dark. And he still loved you more than life itself. Which is why you weren't surprised to find yourself running around your room at nearly one in the morning, trying your best to discreetly gather your bed sheets and sneak off towards the boy's cabin.

Before you could even finish gathering your pillow into your arms, the melodic rapt of Sanji's knuckles had rung out through the door. It took you less than thirty seconds to slide across the planks and fling it open, but it took the poor chef a lot longer to catch his breath and try to look more put together; he was doing his best to look suave by the way he was leaning his elbow against the doorframe, but the wind swept hair gave away the fact that he had come running over the side of the ship to get to you. The soft pant of his breath, the ruddy cheeks, the slight spasm of his abdominal muscles through his half-unbuttoned dress shirt, the scratch of his teeth against his inner lip line: you knew his tell-tale sings, his idiosyncrasies far too well. The man was flustered beyond belief, even if he did his best to cock his head and beam down at you.

What really gave it away - what really, really gave it away, though, was the fact that he literally had to clasp his hands together in front of his chest and wring them to stop them launching forward and grabbing onto you with the cloying, overwhelming power of eight octopus tentacles.

You almost have to shove your hand against your mouth to stifle your laugh at the way he flicked his head back to move the hair away from his eye: to anyone else, it would have seemed like an innocent tick. But he knew, and more importantly you knew too, that it was just so his glistening eyes could wander across your face, as if the lines and marks of your face mapped out the most beautiful treasure in all the seas.

'Well, my strawberry, I hope I didn't wake you from your beauty sleep. Not that you need it! But I, I was hoping, if you were to grace me with such luck, that I may come in-'

Before he can even finish, you've grabbed the knot of his tie and have hauled him across the door line like a fisherman reeling in his hook. Sanji goes flying, landing safely in your open arms, and flopping his back down pleasantly into your hammock. Sanji's eyes widen as he comes sliding down the material towards you, headfirst, stopped only when his chest does the job for him. His arms thump clumsily around your back, using his fall as an excuse to pull you as physically close to him as he can. He huddles up against you, his hand spreading across your shoulder blade and guiding your ear down to rest comfortably just above his right pec. You flush, pretending you don't feel the firm ripple of his tense muscle: don't hear the pounding shudder of his tell-tale heart.

'I'll take that as a yes, ma chérie.'

Distracted by the way your arm falls around his stomach, idly reaching up to curl back the stray edges of his fringe behind the corner of his eye again, his legs inch closer... and closer... and closer... until his left one has plunked down above your own. You have to bury your head into his neck to stop yourself from laughing at how incarnadine his face spreads, warm pink waves radiating off his cheeks as you lift up your knees and slide your free leg in between the heavy weight of his thighs. Bless his heart, it must have taken some exertion to hold it the way he did, making sure not to place his full weight on you, but just enough that the contact was physically there.

'You know', Sanji starts, once he has calmed his heart from beating so rapidly he feared it may have flopped out through his throat, 'Zeff used to give me a kiss goodnight.'

You lift your head to stare at him incredulously. 'No he didn't. I was there for only... uh...', you lift the arm hanging over the soft skin of his bellybutton to ostentatiously count on your fingers, waving them in front of his face. 'Hm, look at that - fifteen years!?'

He leans his head down until his chin is tucked into his neck, and does his best to try and hide the way his lips are warbling into a grin; he tries to play it off as him finding your antics amusing, as he strokes his fingers tenderly over the warm cotton on your shoulder, but inside he's just so beyond giddy to know that you remembered. To know that you had been together so long. To know that after all this time, after all the two of you had been through, he would gladly dredge through the unspeakable caliginosity again, if it meant he could always arrive at this moment. If it meant, no matter what his life threw at him, he could spend every moment of it by your side.

Even if the shadows are juddering up the walls of the girl's cabin too: even if your stroking fingers can't mask the memories of death's sharp knuckles stretching out across the walls. Even if he were to land, right now, in the waves: if he were to capsize and drown, he would be happy. He would be happy, because it was your hand instead. Your hand.

Too timid still, too apprehensive to admit that which had been a heavy weight holding down the flight of his sweet heart, he hides his love behind canorous tease.

'Yeah, well, Zeff did it when he could be arsed. Which I’m pretty sure was never.'

You snort, and he delights at the sound that he had drawn out. His vice like grip on your side tightens, but you decide better than to tease him for the way he begins squirming himself against you. He finally settles properly on his side, the bridge of his nose so dangerously close to yours that you can feel the shallow warmth of his breath brush over your bottom lip.

'Well-', he starts, trying to distract himself from your proximity. He was failing horribly, of course, because his eyes kept falling down to stare blankly at the seam of your lips. 'This does sure beat sleeping on the dungeon floor, even if we do have to put up with Luffy's snoring.'

'Hm, the dungeon wasn't too bad. Cosy', you say teasingly, letting your finger dance down the shell of his ear, pointing the tip against the jut of his chin and lifting his gaze with a smirk.

'How'd you figure that, sweetheart?' The feel of your finger against his skin, no matter how miniscule the touch, was enough to make the fibres of his body burn with such a want that it almost scared him.

'Because... it was the first place you ever kissed me.'

Sanji starts, eyes widening as he feels his limbs turn to stone.

He can't hide in the shadows anymore. Now, he has to come into the light. Has to let himself be free.

'Yeah, well strawberry', he wets his bottom lip with a dart of his tongue, and folds himself further down the hammock so his knees are drawn warmly up against your own. The shaking of his torso is only overshadowed by the widening of his eyes, so full of deep wonder the dams might have burst and drowned you if he hadn't spent so years cautiously restraining himself. You draw a finger down the pulse point of his neck, and he feels that resolve weaken.

He feels like that frightened boy again, but he knows it has to be now. He knows he's been lucky to have had the luxury of borrowed time, but the bell has tolled: the bill has come due, and now he must admit the truth of his life - of his soul - of his heart, for he doesn't know when it will become too late.

He wanted to kiss you. God, he had wanted to kiss you so badly for fifteen years it hurt. Now, now he was going to create his own light: he was going to thrive, in spite of it all. He was going to allow that child to live. The cage was open. He was free. His choices were decided by nobody now but by his own ruling, his own compassion, and he had wasted far too many years training himself to be sceptical, precise, composed.

'... If you may be so kind as to permit it... I think this beautiful ship might end up being the second.' He leans his torso forward, and after a bashful burn flickers over his cheeks, he squeezes his eyes shut and plants a wet kiss against your cheek, just like he had done all those years before.

He suddenly becomes hyperaware of it all: of the closeness of your thigh against his own: slick, naked, vulnerable below your pyjama shorts. Your warm breath, inching closer and closer to his trembling mouth as he juts his head back to look warily at you, so afraid he's messed everything up.

But then you surprise him; you rush forward, overwhelming and crushing in the way your lips pliantly slide over his own, licking against the inside of his bottom lip as it drops open, breathlessly.

He had been waiting for this - over and over since the two of you were children. This thought - the idea that he would finally get here was the only thing that had kept him grounded. Kept him sane. And so he kissed you back: heartily, heavily, with a slipping mouth awaiting your tongue, and clawing fingers coming up to rapt into your cheeks as if you were something fleeting: as if he were still spinning in mid-air, waiting for the shadows to snuff the light out again.

When you finally find the strength, the resilience to pull away, neither of you seem to be able to muster the courage to just finally admit the truth you had both always known. Sanji, instead, looks youthfully shy as he tries to hide his wanting - god, so longing gaze behind his fringe once more, although his tongue can't help but prod against his bottom lip as if in disbelief.

'Like strawberry and black tea, right?', he finally asks against the side of your mouth, nudging his nose against your own and smiling fondly.

'Like strawberry and black tea.'

#one piece #sanji #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #one piece imagine #opla #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla imagine #sanji fluff #vinsmoke sanji fluff #one piece x reader

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suzukiblu · 4 months

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WIP excerpt: Danny goes to Gotham and meets a dead Robin.

There are options for ways to approach an unfamiliar ghost–especially a baby ghost, and from the look of him Robin can’t be more than three or four years dead, if that–but since Robin is a superhero, Danny takes the obvious one. He sticks Tucker’s ghost-proof GPS into his chest or a pocket dimension or some cross between the two and then he glides down through Gotham’s smog and starlight and lets the invisibility and intangibility drop to give the kid a light little greeting swat. Very light–it only knocks Robin halfway across the roof he’s racing across. Which might be a little patronizing, but sue him, the kid is tiny.

Lady Gotham croons, mournful and adoring, and her Robin tumbles through a roll and pops up alertly out of the bat-winged shadows that surround him, doing a perfect flip to land right on top of one of the gargoyles at the edge of the roof. His eyes are wide and white-lensed behind the domino mask, and the moment he sees Danny he laughs.

stranger stranger, careful careful, gonna tell my daaaaad, Robin’s core sing-songs, bright and shiny and secure in that threat, and Danny’s mouth quirks in wry amusement. Yeah, definitely a baby ghost. But it’s nice to see Batman’s kid feels safe with him even dead; is still confident in his protection no matter what. Apparently Batman is a little more down with ghosts and spirits than Danny’s own parents started out, but really, of course he is. He is Lady Gotham’s boytoy, after all.

show me what you’ve got, Danny hums back through his own core–the traditional ghost-introduction for any haunt, even with a baby ghost. Honestly, it’s more impressive a ghost this young has a haunt, but given how thoroughly Lady Gotham’s favor surrounds him, it’s not exactly a surprise either.

Danny’s surprised Robin ever managed to die at all, though, considering how much Lady Gotham loves him.

Robin springs forward across the roof and Danny side-steps his attack and tries to trip him, but Robin flips right over his leg sweep and throws a fistful of–what are they, batarangs, Danny guesses? batarangs, sure–right at his face. Danny goes intangible because he just does not have the reflexes to dodge that from this close, but the second he phases back in gets a double kick to the gut.

Robin is definitely a trained fighter, yeah. A trained fighter with experience.

Nice, Danny thinks, and grins as he zaps a tangle of tiny ecto-blasts at the kid in playful mimicry of those batarangs of his. Robin cartwheels out of the way and then darts in low and leaps up into Danny’s face.

Very nice.

Danny inspects Robin’s core thoughtfully as the kid tries to roundhouse-kick his head off his shoulders with another bright, cackling laugh, which is frankly adorable, and it’s actually really impressive? Like–Robin is a surprisingly strong ghost for his age, glowing with faith and shining like a beacon in the dark, and since Danny’s never heard anyone call him a ghost before, he’s gotta at least be strong enough to manifest in a way where he can pass for human when civilians and other heroes are around.

Which, understandable, really. Danny would also not let anyone know his kid was a ghost if he were Batman, after the Anti-Ecto Acts debacle and how long that’s been taking to clean up. Tall Dark and Paranoid would never let the government know his baby was dead, with that kind of nonsense going on.

He smashes the kid into the roof–gently, because he doesn’t want Batman getting the wrong idea if he’s in the area, but also not too gently because he doesn’t want to offend Robin by giving him the impression that he’s not taking him seriously. Robin yelps, then kicks him in the chest with both feet and actually knocks him back while simultaneously using him as a springboard to flip backwards and get some distance.

Talk about parkour, damn. Danny really is impressed.

not bad, he lets his core rumble approvingly, because Jazz has had some things to say about encouraging the baby ghosts–Jazz has a lot to say about encouraging the baby ghosts, in fact–and Robin’s thrums with laughter and delight and too slow too slow, keep up! Then the kid darts forward again, ducks under his arm, and twists around to elbow him in the back of the head. Danny lets out a snort of laughter and throws him off the roof. Robin laughs, and all those bat-winged shadows embrace him as he vanishes in a twist of the dark.

Not even the shadows. The dark.

Danny is definitely impressed, yeah.

#wip: danny goes to gotham and meets a dead robin #dpxdc #long post

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bunnys-kisses · 16 days

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and your daddy don't like me

phillip graves

cw: age-gap, pwp/smut, daddy kink, "brat" taming, semi-public sex, airplane sex, bimbo-appearing!reader, authority kink like the fic? request your own! really like the fic? leave a comment! reblogs are always encouraged!

it was cut and dry, get you from location a, onto the plane and then to location b. graves knew that it was that simple, while he thought it was a little ridiculous that your father was paying this much to get you from point a to b, the pay was nothing to scoff at.

that was the plan, until he laid eyes on you. pouty lips, bratty demeanor, the aura on you that said that you always got your way. it stopped the man dead in his tracks when he saw you. it made something twist in his gut when you started to verbally tear into one of his men.

"excuse me, girlie." he said as he put his hands on his hips, "i don't quite appreciate the way you are talking to my men." he tilted his head to the side, "no need to be a brat, ma'am."

you looked to him and stepped forward, your heels clicked with the floor. you almost stood at eye level, but the dark look on his face made you frown, "are you in charge here?"

"yes ma'am, just as your father instructed."

"i don't need a small army to get to singapore. it's a flight and the old man is paranoid." you replied. you had your hands on your hips and philip was itching to just grab your waist.

"ma'am, we're just doing our job. your father has a big amount of money in his bank account. the last thing he wants is to pay your ransom."

you sighed, "then i guess it should only take one man to get me there." you looked at the other shadows, "right?"

graves smiled, stroke his ego a little harder and see what happens. he gave the signal for his men to shuffle out. they went through all the effort to get to you, but their services won't be needed. he put his gun in the holster on his thigh and held out a gloved hand. he smiled at you, "well then." he said, "i guess we should be heading to the airport."

you placed your hand in his, and he led you to the car with you carrying your belongings in a bag and suitcase. he was even nice enough to put your luggage in the back of the car before he opened the door for you to get in.

once he started to drive, that was when the sexual energy started to form. he could see how your dress hiked up when you moved in the backseat. he could see your lovely thighs and wondered as he pulled onto the highway, what color were your panties?

you looked at him, that innocent look in your eye was masking your devilish nature. you'd be a good girl for him, right? let him do his little task to get you to sinagpore.

"mister..." you said.

"philip graves." he said, he looked at your briefly, "is something the matter?"

"oh, nothing." you blushed and looked away.

he reached out and touched your thigh, "are ya scared of flying?" he asked.

you nodded, "yeah, ever since i was little." you frowned at him.

"well don't worry, it's my job to keep ya safe. you don't have to worry about anything ma'am." he gaze you a charming, boy-next-door grin as he pulled into the parking.

you giggled, "thank you, sir."

you hated your father, you found him to be an obnoxious pig. he thought less of you because you were a woman. like you couldn't make your own choices! but when you were seated in the private plane with grave, you realized you had many choices during this flight.

graves was even nice enough to buckle you in before take off. you fluttered your eyelashes at him and smiled, "thank you, sir. may i hold your hand?"

he chuckled, "of course, ma'am." he held open his hand and you took it. he noted how smaller your hand was to his. he found it cute.

you held on tightly to his hand as the plane too off. your nail dug into the flesh of his hand. when the plane was safely in the air, you cuddled up close to him, "it's a long flight."

"yes it is. but don't worry, it'll go by fast." he wrapped an arm around you. you looked up at him, at least he was getting the memo.

coyly, you leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. you said, 'i've never met a gentleman like you." then giggled.

he chuckled, "well, i'm not like most men." he reached out for you and combed his fingers through your hair, "i just think a girl like you should get the attention she needs." you kissed once more.

"there's no one but us and the pilots." you remarked.

"that is true." he touched your face, his calloused fingers grazed your soft cheek, "why don't you get a lil more comfortable." he reached over and undid your seat belt, "i have to make sure you get there safely."

you giggled, "if my father found out what you were doing, he'd have you killed!" your face was close to his again, you reached out for him.

"aw, don't worry. your daddy doesn't need to know anythin'. just make sure my cum doesn't spill out when you see him." he laughed and gave you a wink.

you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. once unbuckled, he lifted you onto his lap and pushed up your skirt. he smirked against your kiss when he felt you were wearing no panties.

"were you hopin' to fuck my men today, ma'am?" he asked, "

"no, sir. why would you suggest that?" you looked down at him, your perfectly manicured nails in his hair, you pouted a little, "my daddy says i'm a good girl, so why would i want to fuck your men?"

he looked up at you and smirked, "oh silly girl." he said slyly, "i know you better then your daddy knows ya." he started to undo your blouse, "i was wonderin' on the ride to the airport what colour they were. but, i should've guessed there'd be none." he laughed.

the sight of your thin white bra made him salivate like a dog. his cock stirred in his pants. you gripped his hair and tilted his head back. you made eye contact. you said so sweetly, "i am a good girl."

he patted your ass and chuckled, "of course, doll. the best girl there ever was. i'm just teasin'." then gave you a nice broad smile.

you lifted your skirt to expose your pussy to him, "do you want me, mister graves."

he chuckled, "of course. now be good for me." he reached between your legs and gave it a gentle touch before he undid his pants and got his cock out, "now why don't we get a little more acquainted."

you leaned in once more and kissed him as you slowly sank on his cock. he groaned into your kiss as he felt your tight heat wrapped around his cock. it felt electric.

"promise you won't tell my daddy?" you asked, your lips close to his.

he smiled, "of course, doll. it'll be our little secret. but i have to know, do you do this for all of the men who fly with your overseas?"

you shook your head, "no sir... well, maybe if they're handsome. but mostly they're too rough and hurt me."

"ah well." he chuckled, "i'd never hurt ya. pretty things like you need to be kept safe from big bad men." he then exhaled deeply as you started to move your hips. it almost took the wind out of him.

you held onto his shoulder, the roughness of his shirt contrasted with the softness of your hands. you knew how to work your hips, you didn't make it so far with daddy's money alone.

he held your hips and felt his heart race as you rode him. he prided himself as being a man who protected. he made sure little angels like you were out of harms way. the world was a big scary place and you needed a guiding hand to keep you nice and safe.

you continued to move your hips and felt his cock deep inside of you. you were impressed by his size and it had your heart racing as you gave just the cutest little humps.

he watched your breasts bounce with all of your movements. he leaned in and kissed at your chest, trying his best not to leave marks. he didn't want yer daddy to know.

you fucked like a couple of bunnies in the lavish seat of the plane. you felt your body grow hotter. you could admit that graves was handsome, more handsome than some of the men that your father sent to you.

he was pretty in an all-american way. but if you got too close, he'd devour you whole. your hips bounced on his cock and his dug his fingers deeper into the flesh of your hips. he loved when he was feeling and seeing.

he took in the sight of you, this was the best task he had in a long time. he got paid handsomely by your father and he got a good feel of your sweet sex. maybe he'll get more chances to taste and fuck you.

you yanked on his hair and pouted once more, "i want to do it differently, sir."

"no way, i want to see you orgasm like this. i want to see your 'o' face.' he chuckled as he started to thrust up into you. he continued to watch you move against him as the two of you fucked on the leather seat.

it wasn't long before you felt the heat of orgasm in your gut. your nails dug into his shoulder you watched him with your tongue partially out of your mouth. you felt like such a slut! you were a good girl!

he humped up into you. he grit his teeth before he climaxed inside of you. the thought of pumping you full of his seed made his cock twitch before it grew softer.

you rode it a little bit more until you finished as well. you squeezed your eyes shut and let out a high pitched but sweet noise. you fell into his arms and held onto the front of his shirt.

you rubbed your pussy up against his soft cock. you let out a sweet chuckle as you looked up into his eyes. all he saw was the softest eyes and glossed full lips.

he played with your hair and smiled, "well then. why don't you get comfortable. you'll need your sleep to see your daddy."

you giggled, "well... i only have one daddy now." then rubbed a little harder.

graves believed himself to be a gentleman so who was he to deny such a lovely girl another round of the mile high club.

"he was alright, daddy." you said on the phone in your hotel room. you looked at your nails and sighed, "how much are they paying you? right.. right.."

your father talked on the other end, he asked questions about graves as you looked out onto the port. you sighed and crossed one arm, you tilted your head to the side, "no, daddy. i didn't have sex with him!" you were obviously lying, but it was bad enough you were doing your father's dirty work, "maybe i can get some liquor into him on the flight home. but you better send me to puroland for this!"

the sex was the icing on the cake. your main objective was to milk graves for all the information he was worth. you played dumb for him, make him feel like the big strong man! it wasn't hard, actually it was too easy.

but you learned long ago that most men are stupid. it just happened that graves was also a good fuck too. <3

xoxo, bunny

#bunny writes #call of duty #reader insert #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves smut #phillip graves #graves smut #graves x you #cod graves #graves x reader #call of duty fanfic #commander phillip graves #cod modern warfare #cod smut #graves pwp

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ravenromanova · 7 months

Text

Too close

Pairings: Ghostface Bucky x Female reader (I got this idea from a tiktok i saw of someone that made a scream poster of bucky as ghostface and i died and i also read a natasha ghostface fic and it was so good and i thought why not make one of bucky!) This is the fic that inspired this, by @abbyromanoff you can run but you cant hide

Warnings: Mentions of killing, blood, SMUT 18+!!!!! Mask kink, knife play, Blood kink, Daddy kink, Breeding kink, unprotected sex (Bucky and the reader have sex in another room from an unalived person) (My darkest fantasies are coming out to play here sue me) DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18+!!!!!!!!

Summary- Bucky doesn’t like it when people get too close to his girl. What happens when you figure out why everyone you talk to suddenly dies. Will you run?

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“This just in another the mysterious serial killer known as ghostface has claimed another victim. 22 year old Jordan Rodriguez was found in her new york apartment with 50 stab wounds. She was found by her roommate Janice after she came home from work. Officers haven’t given many details as to if they are any leads into who this killer could be. But they have advised everyone within the brooklyn area to be inside by 8pm to limit any risks.” The nightly news reporters vice echos through your apartment as you watch through hooded eyes.

This was the fifth person this week to die a brutal death and not to mention you seem to have had an interaction with everyone that has died. Fear floods your veins as your head runs a thousand miles and hour and what this could mean. Is someone out to hurt you? Do you have a stalker who is killing everyone you know to get you alone? Are you next? That’s all you can think about before your thoughts are cut off by the front door opening.

You shriek and jump off the couch and run to the kitchen to grab whatever knife you can. You decide to duck behind your island with the knife as you hear footsteps walk in. The footsteps are heavy yet soft as the approach you. It’s not until the figure comes closer to you that you jump in front of them and attempt to stab them but they catch your hand.

“Woah they’re tiger” The voice says and you drop the knife once you realize who it is. You flick on the kitchen light before walking over to him and throwing your arms around his shoulders and hugging him.

“I’m sorry jamie” You apologize to your boyfriend and he just chuckles in response.

“It’s okay babydoll, but what has you so freaked out?” He asks looking at your with eyes of concern.

You sigh as you look at him before you decide to tell him what’s wrong. “The news- They said another person has been killed…A-And i knew the person who was killed, Ive known all the people who’ve died this week! What-what if someone is out to hurt me? What i-if i- die?” Your voice breaks as you speak your fears. He looks at you and brings you in for another hug.

“Oh babydoll it’s going to be okay im sure it’s nothing” He said calmly as she stroked your back and kissing the top of your head.

You sighed as you looked at him while you nodded your head. Maybe you were just being paranoid you thought, maybe this is just one big coincidence and you’ll be fine. Yea… you’ll be fine.

“Yea maybe you’re right” You didn’t sound too convinced with your own words but you try to shake off the feeling that something bad is happening.

“Come on babydoll lets get you into bed so you stop overthinking in that pretty little head of yours” His voice is so soft and sweet as he takes your hand in his and walks you two to the bedroom. When the both of you enter the room he tells you to lay down and then goes to get something. Thirty seconds later he comes back with your favorite blanket and stuffed animal and slides in bed next to you.

That night the two of you cuddle and have cute little conversations that help ease your overthinking. You fell asleep with him whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

What you didn’t know was that Bucky was panicking since he stepped foot into the apartment. He thought he had been caught when you attempted to stab him but luckily for him you were as clueless as ever.

~one week later~

You sighed as you watched the news and they reported the 8th murder in two weeks. And very unfortunately for you, you had known the persons who died…just like the rest of them. That really didn’t help with the overthinking that’s for sure.

It was around 4am when you decided to turn off the tv and head to bed. Your brows furrowed when you realized Bucky wasnt home yet. You thought maybe he had gotten an overnight shift at the garage but normally he tells you that. You decided to check ‘find my friends’ since it kinda worried you that he wasnt home.

When his location showed that he was at an apartment complex your heart sank. A thousand possibilities were running through your head as you threw some sweats on, grabbed your keys and headed out the door to find your boyfriend.

The whole car ride you were full of anxiety and your brain wouldn’t shut up. Once you pulled up to the complex you quickly ran to the car not in the mood to play around if he was fucking someone else. You followed the gps and walked right up to the front door but you noticed it was open slightly. So what did you do? You walked right into the dark apartment despite not knowing who or what you’d find.

But what you did find sent bile to your throat. There was a figure dressed in all black standing over who you thought was your boyfriend with a knife in their hand.

“BUCKY!” You screamed as you ran over to the body on the floor. It wasnt until you got up close that you realized that the person wasnt Bucky…It was the barista that served you your coffee this morning. Your thoughts ran wild as you mumbled incoherent words under your breath.

But those were quickly cut off once your heard the masked figured laughing. You whipped your head around and stared at the figure in horror.

“Oh Kotenok you’re so precious” The masked figured said as he slowly removed his mask. Your eyes widened as you saw who was under the mask… It was Bucky. You quickly stood up and backed away from him as you started to hyperventilate.

“W-What the hell?” You finally said after you finally slowed your breathing down. Bucky chuckled as he came closer to you and wiped some sweat off his forehead.

“I guess it’s finally time to tell you-“ He said as she took off the costume and dropped the knife. You stared at him as his hand come up to caress your cheek. “You see kotenok i never meant for any of this to happen- But these people-t-they flirt with you and get too close to you. And i cant have that, i cant have people wanting to take what’s mine. And see i wouldn’t mind so much that people mindlessly flirt with you… if you didn’t flirt back” He seethed as he grabbed your face.

You were speechless at his confession never in a million years did you think he’d do this. But the idea that you’re his motive, that he just wants to keep you to his self is intoxicating. You look up at him with doe eyes before you finally find the words to say.

“You do all of this to make sure that i stay yours” Your voice heightens in excitement as you wait for his response.

His grip tightens on your face as he speaks. “Yes kotenok i do- i cant stand the thought of someone else having you the way i do” He confess as his eyes darken at the way you smirk.

“That’s- the hottest thing i think you’ve ever said to me” Bucky smiles devilishly at your words and suddenly picks you up and pushes you against the wall. His lips are on yours within a seconds time and the kiss is the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done.

“Put the mask back on” The words come out breathless as your chest rises due to the lack of air. He smirks as he walks you over to the couch and lays you down before grabbing the mask and knife again. He put the mask back on and then slowly stalks towards you and he twirls the knife in his hand.

“Oh fuck” You whisper under your breath when he climbs on top of you. Even though you cant see his face you know for a fact he’s smirking. He wastes no time in ripping off your shirt along with your sweats leaving you in just your panties.

“So pretty” His voice comes out a little muffled as he speaks due to the mask but it made it so much hotter. He then takes the knife that he wiped off and drags it across your bare chest. Your breath hitches in your throat as the cool metal hits your skin. Bucky then drags the knife down your torso and slices your panties off and drags it across your bare pussy.

“Please” You beg as you grab the hand with the knife and place it on your stomach. He places the blade on your skin and digs it in just a little, “Mark me” Bucky wastes no time in carving his initials into your skin he leaves a little ‘J.B.B’ on your stomach, before wiping the blood away with his thumb. Your grab his thumb and slowly bring it to your mouth before you clean his thumb off.

“Fucking hell kotenok” He groans at your actions. Bucky grows impatient as he throws the knife across the room making note to pick it back up later. He then spreads your pussy and starts to play with your clit and your back arches in reaction.

“Please daddy” You beg and then he adds two fingers into you in a swift motion and chooses a relentless pace. This is the filthiest thing you’ve ever done but right now, in this moment you dont give a flying fuck.

The pleasure you feel is beyond intense as Bucky curls his fingers and hits your g-spot just right. You let out a screaming moan as your first orgasm bursts through you. “Oh fuck” You breathe out the best you can as you slowly takes off his pants and boxers exposing his hard cock standing at attention for you.

“I want you so bad please daddy” He doesn’t need much motivation after you give him the go ahead. Bucky slams his cock into you hard and fast and you scream in response to his movement.

“Yes yes yes” You chant as you sit up and wrap your arms around him as Bucky slams into you. The room is filled with the filthy noises of your pussy and his balls slapping your skin.

“Gonna fucking breed you kotenok” He grunts and picks up his speed chasing his high. You can feel your second orgasm build up as he talks about breeding you.

“Oh please breed me daddy- fuck- wanna be full of your babies” You plead as you grind your hips down on his cock earning a guttural moan from him.

“Yea? You want that your little slut? You wanna have my kids?” He asks even though he already knows the answer. You dont find the words to respond and just opt for nodding your head. And in turn Bucky changes the position so he’s back on top and he thrusts into you like never before. Your moans become louder and his pace gets rougher. The both of you end up finishing within a matter of minutes and once you do you take the mask off him and just stare at him.

You take a moment and rub your thumb over his bottom lip before you bring him into a passionate kiss. Bucky grunts into the kiss and wraps his arms around your waist lovingly. After you break the kiss you look into his blue eyes and smile softly.

“I love you” You whisper and put your forehead against his. In this moment you love him more than you ever thought possible. Did he murder someone? Yes. Did he kill almost a dozen people just for you? Yes. But he also did it because he loves you and that just makes your heart swell. You get an idea after a minute of just looking at him.

“Let’s clean this place up and then run away, Lets go some where else where it can be just us” You say with a pleading looking in your eyes. Bucky agrees and nods before getting you both dressed again.

The two of you clean up the mess and decide of what to do with the body before heading back home to pack your things. That night while in a way tragic was also the start of the rest of your lives together and you couldn’t be happier.

~the end~

i do not give permission for my work to me translated or copied on other websites

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cherryredstars · 8 months

Text

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: Fluff, References to Trauma/PTSD

Summary: Simon in a relationship!

A/N: Love this man, and I’m not sorry.

Word Count: 1.7K (Edited)

Ideally, Simon wouldn’t want to date someone with a military career like him. All he really wants is to have someone to come back home to, and that’s hard when the both of you might be deployed at different times. Plus, he doesn’t want anyone else to see the things he’s seen. He can barely take care of himself with all the PTSD he keeps with him, he doesn’t know how he would be able to care for someone else who’s struggling like him.

At the same time, he’s paranoid of strangers. You never know what they might be hiding, if they’re undercover spies of some sort or hitmen trying to kill the man that’s already dead. He knows everyone has secret intentions, everyone always wants something. Even if it isn’t malicious in nature.

I don’t think Simon would date an overly nice neighbor who wants to take care of him when he returns from missions. He’d be too suspicious of them and think they’re trying to poison him with the food they bring him. I think his partner would end up being someone he meets purely by accident or someone he sees constantly. Like a barista at the local coffee shop or a cashier at the grocery store he used to work at. If it’s by accident, it must be the most bizarre scenario ever, or else he’ll think it was set up. Like maybe you storm up to him, accusing him of something and he has no idea what you’re talking about, only to find out you're chewing out the wrong person.

Simon would take it slow, not promising you anything. But, he’d still ask you if you would like to hangout after he gets back from duty. When you agree, he thinks about it all the way to base, then pushes it out of his mind once he puts on his skull mask. There isn't any time for distractions if he wants to make sure that hangout happens. You guys would go on multiple dates before he asks you to go out with him. He finds the tiniest bit of tension falls off his shoulders when you say yes.

In the beginning of your relationship, Simon never had his back turned towards you. When you guys are together, he’s always facing you or trailing behind you. He never stood besides you and when you guys slept in the same bed, his chest was facing you with a slight space between the two of you. He never really let you touch his back or hug him for more than a second. This was because it, literally and figuratively, prevented you from stabbing him in the back. He went through a lot of shit before he met you, still has to deal with it when he gets deployed for duty, so it’s natural for him to be distrusting and cautious. Even towards someone he agreed to attach himself to.

The day you walked into a room and he didn’t instantly turn around confused you. You thought that maybe he didn’t hear you, so you kindly announce your presence. When you tell him that you’re there, he still doesn’t turn around and continues what he’s doing. All he responds with is, “I know.” You had blinked in confusion before the widest smile appeared on your face. You said nothing else and continued doing what you needed to in the kitchen, both of your backs turned to each other. That same night, Simon turned on his side in his sleep, his chest facing away from you for the first time.

Simon’s love language is physical touch, and he thinks it’s the cruelest joke ever because that’s the thing that scares him the most now. He’s scared to touch you. He’s scared his rough hands will tear up your skin like sandpaper. Scared that he’ll hold on to you too strongly and you will bruise and shatter under his touch. He’s scared that when he removes his hands from you, a bloody hand print will stain your skin, just like the blood of the thousands of people he’s killed stains his. He has to build up to it. Has to flex his hands to stop himself from constantly grabbing on to you. He keeps a small bottle of hand sanitizer in his pocket, and he uses it whenever he has that urge to touch you, like maybe it’ll protect you from him if he gives in. When he comes home from a mission, he washes his hands raw before he gets into bed and holds you.

When he finally touches you, it’s small touches. The brushing of knuckles as he passes you, a small grip on the back hem of your shirt to tell you to stop walking, linking your pinkies together on a busy street, him brushing a bit of hair out of your face when you talk to him. Fleeting things that never last long but causes his heart to soar hours afterwards and for you to smile the rest of the day. As the relationship progresses, they last longer and get more bolder. But they still have the same effect on the both of you.

His favorite receiving love language from his partners are acts of service. Likes when he goes to the cupboard, knowing he’s on his last tea bag, only to find a brand new box of tea next to the old one. Loves when he comes home from a mission to find his mug already on the counter and the kettle is on. Likes walking into the bedroom to find a set of clothing laid out on the bed for him. He appreciates that you already have dinner in the fridge for him to heat up, that you already took out the trash and washed the dishes so he doesn’t feel compelled to do them in his exhausted state.

His heart warms when he sees his spaces. Or the spaces that are meant to be filled with his things. Like they’ve been waiting for him, like you’ve been waiting for him. He likes walking through the door and seeing the empty space on the floor next to your sneakers, meant to hold Simon’s heavy duty boots. When he walks into the kitchen, he stares at his place at the table that is already set for him with a small smile. Likes the empty hangers in the closet where he’s supposed to hang his clothes back up once they’re washed. Finds warmth in the dusty spots on the bathroom shelves where his hygiene products were placed before he left. Likes walking towards the shared bed after his shower, finding you fast asleep and his side of the bed empty. He likes filling those spots with his things, it’s like time didn’t continue when he left. Like nothing has changed and he was only gone for a few hours instead of months. He loves when you wrap your arms around him, pushing yourself into his side in your sleep. Your arms are his favorite Simon space.

Despite the fact you do almost all the house chores, only because he's not home to do them himself, he refuses to let you touch his gear bag and clean the stuff in it. He’s scared all the bad things Ghost’s mask was present for would crawl out and hurt you. He tells you it’s fine, that he’ll wash the blood and dirt stained uniform, that he’ll put away everything in the bag. When he’s finished, he shoves the military bag to the back of his side of the closet, vanishing the skull mask from the light. It doesn’t belong there anyways.

Simon is hesitant to let the rest of the team meet you. The team and you are two different parts of his life, each of you get a side of him the other doesn’t. He’s scared of what will happen when they clash. When Ghost invades Simon’s life off of the field. You reassure him the whole time the both of you get ready to go to a bar the team wanted to have celebratory drinks at. Simon is still nervous, but he can’t help the small smile that grows around the rim of his glass as he watches his family interact as one. He smiles even more when none of the boys hesitate to protect you from handsy customers who want to try their shot with you. That’s good, he thinks. It’s good that you’ll have people to take care of you if he never makes it back home to you.

Of course, Simon gives you his dog tag. But, the dog tag Simon gives you is different. It’s slightly rusted, older. One that holds a past he has yet to share with you completely. This tag exists before Ghost and Task Force 141. It’s a tag from when Simon was in the SAS, before he was hurt and betrayed by the world as badly. When you ask him why he gave you this tag instead of his more updated tags, his answer echoes in your head: “Because that Simon is the one I am when I’m with you. That’s the Simon I want you to remember me as.” You never took off his dog tag afterwards.

When Simon stands at the front door in the early hours of the morning, dressed in tactical gear with his military bag at his side, you both stand and stare at each other. He lets you put on his skull mask, the only time he’ll ever let you touch it. In those quiet moments where you both wait for one of the team to pick him up, you ask him in a whisper to come home because you’ll be waiting for him. He doesn’t promise anything, only says that’s his plan.

You never need to ask him why he lets you put on the mask for him. The both of you already know the reason. You already know it’s Ghost’s gift to you. It’s Ghost giving you Simon to take care of. You know it's because Simon is the safest when he’s with you. You know because, every night before he has to leave again, Simon vows to go wherever you are when he thinks you’re asleep. When Ghost walks out the door and closes it behind him, you know it’s Ghost that will be returning home, not Simon. And that’s because Simon never left, he’s right there with you. Everywhere you go.

Simon content pre-write 2.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost simon riley #cod ghost #ghost cod #cod headcanons #cod x reader #cod mwii #simon riley headcanons #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost headcanons #cod mw2

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lycheeloving · 26 days

Text

yandere!Batman headcanons as a continuation of this post:

-the most paranoid one. will make J'onn check to see if you haven't been brainwashed specifically to get close to & attack him or something. will also make Superman check for weird, dangerous devices that could be in your body. only after he's absolutely sure you're just a civilian (and not being used by someone else to infiltrate the League), he'll take off his mask and reveal his identity to you. (will probably make the other League members go through the same procedures with their darlings, even if they see no reason to do so.)

-he'll test you for basically every illness/etc, just to make sure you're the healthiest you can be, and get any treatment you might need.

-say goodbye to your old wardrobe! you'll only get to wear the most elegant and expensive clothes. if you ask nicely enough he might allow you to add some (muted) color to your wardrobe. you'll probably get a few bat-themed clothes or accessories, though.

-keeps thinking about taking you to the batcave instead. he trusts the entire Justice League, don't get me wrong, but he'd prefer to have you all to himself. the only thing stopping him is that he knows you're safer in the Watchtower, as at least one Justice League member is always there to watch all of the darlings. (+ he knows it's better for your mental health if you have contact to other people or whatever 😒)

-sulks when you choose to talk to other people over him. tends to keep you in your room when he's at the Watchtower, prefers you only interact with other people when he's not there.

-might brand you with a batsymbol. just to make sure you (and everyone else) know you're his. nobody else's. also he thinks it'd be hot if you had something that represents him on your skin. don't worry, it won't hurt. too much. ok, it will really hurt.

-a bit of a sadist.

-master manipulator. knows exactly what to say to slowly get you to accept him as your partner. at some point you'll be sitting on his lap and wondering why you're voluntarily cuddling with him, how did that happen? (he might be using some of Poison Ivy's pheromones to convince you more easily)

#yandere bruce wayne #yandere batman #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam #yandere justice league #x reader #yandere #reader insert #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #justice league x reader #lycheewritings

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captain-mj · 4 months

Note

Stoner Ghost??

You’re getting headcanons because i think about this a lot but don’t have a plot

SFW

He does it for medicinal purposes, shockingly. He’s not above breaking the law but it helps with chronic pain he has from everything

Gets high before events where he needs to be social with anyone outside his small circle from friends/coworkers

Doesn’t really get the munchies but he does use this an excuse to eat food he normally wouldn’t. Several of them have found him in the base kitchen eating a ton of leftovers

Watches space and ocean videos and vibes

Is a lot more comfortable with touch as long its not too much, can’t grab him but he's fine with someone sitting next to him

Likes watching scary stuff because none of it really fazes him

Gets paranoid if he takes too much

Prefers smoking

Owns a bong

Price occasionally sits with him. He never smokes, just sits with him. He enjoys talking with Simon and this is one of the best times again.

Usually takes his mask off once he's high enough

Makes more stupid jokes than ever but usually laughs too hard to really get themout

NSFW

So Horny

Unbelievably Horny

Everyone has learned to knock

Sober him has awkwardly given Soap (or anyone you want) consent for high him for this specific reason

Takes longer to finish despite being more sensitive

So much easier to get him to make noise, eyes rolling back and whimpers coming out

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

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sanguineterrain · 7 months

Note

Hi I’m back because couples who aren’t together just yet are EVERYTHING

And the new theme?? The icon?? Sanne 😍

May I request “you matter so much to me” with Dick? A little angsty if you’re feeling it?

hey there!!! thank you hehe i felt it was time for a theme change bc fall ❤️ hope you like it! thanks for sending a request 🥰

dick grayson x gn!reader. tw: reader is injured but not much description of the injury, mention of bombing, dick being a protective sweetheart, love confession.

****

You're probably being paranoid.

You probably don't need to call Dick. He'll definitely be busy right now. And you call him way too much as it is.

Wally had asked last month if you two were dating, which had been a humiliating conversation, so you've been vigilant about not clinging to Dick so much. You're just friends. That's all you'll ever be.

These two guys at the train station are really freaking you out, though. What do all the posters say? See something, say something?

You take a deep breath and dial.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dick," you say tentatively.

"Hey!" Dick says, sounding slightly breathless. "Hey, how are you? I've missed you, what have you been up to?"

The smile in his voice makes you ache. Fuck. You should've just called an Uber.

"Hey. I'm okay. Sorry for not calling, I've been, uh, swamped at work."

"That's okay. It's nice to hear from you."

You melt. "It's nice to hear from you, too."

One of the guys across the station tosses a duffel bag inside of a storage closet and closes the door, then locks it. Right. Back to why you called.

"Dick, I think these two guys at the train station might be up to something. I could be wrong! I-I'm probably wrong, but—"

"What are they doing?" he asks, and you can hear him shifting to Nightwing Mode.

"They threw a duffel bag into a closet, but they don't look like workers. And—"

One of them lifts his coat, and you see a holstered gun. Shit.

"Oh my God," you whisper. "One of them has a gun."

"Get out of there," Dick orders. "I'm on my way. I'll pick you up. Meet me on the corner of Mason and Jewel."

"Okay," you say, heartbeat rabbiting. "Okay, um, Mason and Jewel. Got it."

"It'll be okay," he says, a little gentler this time. "I won't let anything happen to you, alright? Go somewhere where there's a lot of people, and stay on the line."

You take a deep breath. "O-okay. I trust you."

You head for the stairs when the ground rumbles under your feet. People begin to shout and you run faster, trying to make it out of the station.

"What's happening, honey? Talk to me," Dick urges.

You hardly register the honey in your panic.

"The ground's shaking. Dick—"

Something knocks into your back and you crumple to the floor, phone falling from your hand. Everything goes black.

****

You open your eyes to blackness, and for a moment, you're afraid you've lost your sight. But then the shadows become clearer, and you can make out distinct, albeit dimly lit, shapes.

You try to form a word but the air has been sucked out of your lungs and it sounds more like a wheeze.

The surface beneath you is soft and firm. There's a blanket over your shoulders.

You rasp out a sound that's an attempt at 'hello.' Your lips are cracked, and your throat feels like you chugged cement.

A hand rests on your forehead. You try to sit up.

"Easy, easy. Don't try moving just yet."

Dick is in his Nightwing suit, but the mask is off. You blink at him slowly. You'd almost forgotten how blue his eyes are.

"Can you tell me your birthday?" he asks, continuing to stroke your face.

You tell him your birthday. Your throat feels like sandpaper, and a straw is pushed to your lips. You drink the water greedily.

"Wha' happ'd?" you ask.

"There was a small bomb. Half the station collapsed." Dick sucks in a deep breath and seems to steel himself. "You, um, you hit your head pretty hard. I found you and brought you back to the Batcave. I want to monitor you overnight just in case."

Your eyes widen. "Batcave?"

Dick smiles. "The one and only. I'll give you a tour later."

You frown. "Shouldn't you be out there?"

"Oh." Dick rubs his neck. "Well, uh, the others have got it pretty much covered. But I can give you space, if-if you're tired or something. Uh, Alfred's upstairs if you need anyth—"

You shake your head. "Not kicking you out, Dickie. Just don't wanna keep you from important stuff."

Dick leans in, looking at you intently.

"You're important."

You smile and look away, belly swooping at his seriousness.

"Oh. Thank you, Dick."

"I mean it," he says fiercely, then swallows. "You are... you're one of the most important people in my life. You matter so much to me. I should've said so earlier, and I guess today was the kick in the pants I needed."

You turn to him, eyes wide. "What are you saying?"

Dick slips his hand into yours, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

"Every day, I see how fragile life is," Dick says. "Witnessed it for myself, too. I can't—I don't want to pretend that I don't care about you as much as I do. That I don't wish we were more. And if you don't feel the same way, then that's okay, but I needed to say something before—"

"Dick," you murmur.

He stops. "Yeah?"

"Kiss me."

He blinks once, twice, then wastes no more time. Dick cups your jaw with both hands. It's almost overwhelming, the way Dick Grayson kisses you like you're the only person in the universe.

His hair is just as soft as you imagined, and you tangle your other hand in it, massaging the base of his neck. Dick makes a quiet whine in the back of his throat, and you hungrily swallow the sound.

"Ahem."

You flinch apart, and Dick covers his mouth. He glances at you through his lashes, and the look promises that he's not finished with you.

All excitement about said promise self-destructs when you see Batman standing ten feet away. Even under the cowl, he looks unimpressed.

"Nightwing," he says. "Taking care of our patient?"

Oh God. You're never setting foot in Gotham again.

"Excellent care," Dick says, apparently used to Batman's cheek.

"Hn. I expect a report of the station incident tomorrow."

"Of course. Do you need me out there?"

"No. It's handled." Batman looks at you. "You are welcome to join us for dinner."

He swooshes away with a truly unnecessary jump into the Batmobile. You wait until he's gone before groaning and putting your face in your hands.

"Oh my God, I just made out with you in front of Batman. I can never face him."

Dick pulls you into his arms, kissing your temple.

"Are you kidding? He basically just welcomed you into the family. I knew he'd like you."

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x yn #dick grayson fanfiction #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #nightwing fanfiction #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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kneelingshadowsalome · 9 months

Note

can you give me a quick bio on ghost…his personality, how you view him canon and what not

Ghost headcanons

Ghost doesn't wear a mask in public. It's easier to maintain his anonymity that way because a skull mask/balaclava would only draw more attention. The only instances he might wear it in a public place would be if he's with people he doesn't wish to get linked to/associated with (like in the famous scene where he's at a bar with Laswell & co)

He doesn't have a home, not even a rental flat. He stays at the base, stays at motels, hotels, b&bs when he's in England. Partly because having anything stable in his life is dangerous, partly because his attachment issues are so severe that even owning a place will make him feel uncomfortable. Returning to the same, dusty place with only a tv and a fridge to keep him company is depressing.

He never visits Manchester. Too many sour memories and too many people who might still recognize him when he's supposed to be dead. There's no one there left to visit either, save for a few old friends who he can't keep in contact with because he wants to protect them.

He hasn't dated since he was 20-something. He doesn't want to take the risk of losing his loved ones ever again. He's had a few one night stands but disappears before dawn, hating the man he has to be in order to protect those who might otherwise steal their way into his heart.

He's considered using escort services instead, but even the thought leaves a foul taste in his mouth because of his childhood memories and the things his father did to women. He goes to strip clubs sometimes when he has a weak moment, drinks one whiskey and then goes to his motel room and jerks himself off, feeling lousy and even more depressed afterward.

If we ignore this man's attachment issues and complex trauma and imagine he would settle into a situationship or even a relationship:

Ghost is not mean, brutal or abusive. In bed or in any non-work related circumstances (Ghost would say he's not brutal or mean at work either: he's just efficient.) He can be rough if you want and even enjoys manhandling you a little, but he would have a hard time degrading you. He's a soft dom and a service top through and through and quite the gentleman at heart.

He has a lot of money. He's not a spender and has no kids so the pile of wealth he's accumulated over the years is quite enormous. He will spend his money on you though, take you out to dinner, buy you anything you need. He does it so willingly and effortlessly that you soon get a feeling that he's your sugar daddy or at least would want to be. He pays your electricity bill if he finds it on your table and sees it's overdue, doesn't even bother to ask for your permission. And oh, do you need a gorgeous dress for some occasion? Let him buy it for you. You need a car? Sure, no problem at all.

He's paranoid to the point of not telling you when he's about to visit you. He just pops on your doorstep, looking dog-tired and ten years older than he really is. The only thing he leaves in your apartment is a toothbrush and perhaps one of his sweatshirts (if you ask nicely.)

He seems to have a sixth sense, and is very superstitious. He thinks telling you he loves you is a perfect way to attract malevolent attention and bad luck upon himself, so he refrains from being verbal about how he truly feels. You think he's indifferent, that you're just a shag for this man, but in truth he's dedicated and devoted to you and sees no one else but you, thinks about you at work so much so that he already calls you a distraction in his mind. It's dangerous, his feelings are already bringing him bad luck, and so the cycle of silence continues…

He's an incredible hacker but uses old, foolproof technology to avoid being traced. You can never call him, he always calls you. If he even calls.

He's not a drinker and doesn't like to see you drinking either. He absolutely, vehemently hates drugs.

He's embarrassed about it but he has read like 5 novels in his lifetime. All other books have been non-fiction, manuals and the like. He says he hasn't got the time to read.

He loves to see you in ultra feminine underwear. Lace, stay ups, suspenders: he loves to undress you like you're a delicately wrapped Christmas present just for him.

He loves to eat pussy. He would eat you all day, every day, for the rest of his life if he could. He especially loves it when you ride his face and he gets to feel how your thighs start to tremble next to his face.

He loves missionary. Loves loves loves to spread you open and spread his religion. You even joke about it: that his ass is so fit because he fucks you so much, and he only smiles to himself because it's true.

Ghost wants kids, but would he ever tell you that? No. He never tells you anything. You know nothing of this man, not even his favorite movie or his favorite color (which is not black, btw).

He has a terrible praise kink. He loves praising you, teasing you, making you flustered while he's inside you – but if you ever tell him he's big? He's good? That you like it when he smiles? His brain goes full error. He fucks up the rhythm of his thrusts and has to gather his breath. (Then he ups the stakes and praises you even more. Because he also has to win. Always.)

If you ever tell him you miss him, that you can't sleep without him… He disappears for weeks. Then he suddenly comes back, more touch starved and desperate than ever. Your words have gone under his skin whether he likes it or not. You can't even tell whether he's fucking you or making love to you, but you're left feeling like you just got hit by the most loving, gentle bus. There's no explanation, and it's futile to try and pry what's gone into him. But just before you fall asleep, he ghosts his fingers down your arm and whispers: "Pet… I missed you too."

#answered #simon ghost riley #ghost headcanons #simon riley headcanons #not a quick bio but #*shrugs*

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yandere-romanticaa · 3 months

Text

I feel like I'm 15 again. Todoroki was my first BNHA love, it's only fair that he gets a little something.

Shoto, who has had his eye on you ever since his UA days. He was enrolled in the hero course while you were in the general course, leading a completely separate life from his own. You had your own interests, hobbies, friends.

It was so beautiful to admire, from a safe distance of course.

Shoto was aware of his popularity amongst the student body due to his powerful quirk and impeccable grades. Whenever he would walk down the hall to class the murmurs of hundreds of students would follow, their beady and curious eyes either glaring daggers of envy or were in absolute awe of him.

Either way, he did not care, not for any single one of them. He was never too keen to call the people around him "extras" in the same way Bakugo did but whenever he would catch sight of you in the hall, every single possible distraction really did become a hassle. His cool mask was always under the dangerous threat of melting at the mere sight of you, it would even triple if you talked to, or if God was feeling merciful, accidentally touch him. His mask of indifference would slip for a brief second, dual eyes widening in shock as he would get a whiff of your perfume and would curse the fact that there were so many people around.

If he could die with his nose buried in your neck, it would be the sweetest way to go.

Shoto would become paranoid of the thought of being discovered. Sometimes, just sometimes when he was feeling just a little bit bolder than usual, he would press himself just ever so closer to you in the cramped hall and would take in every nook and cranny he possibly could. The average student would think nothing of this as he was probably just in a rush to get to class. He would also always apologize politely, Shoto would even try giving you a sweet smile while doing so.

However. The people who knew Shoto were not your average students.

Bakugo was not known for his subtlety and that legacy still lives on. On a Friday evening when the last bell had rung and the classroom was empty, the hotheaded lad trapped Shoto in a corner.

"Just say how you feel dumbass." Bakugo had said, his gruff tone slightly quieter than usual.

At least he had enough grace to not be a complete jackass.

With his eyes closed and lips pressed in a thin line Shoto had shook his head in defiance. Bakugo made the entire situation sound so easy, as if Shoto could just walk up to you and ask to hang out. You were a kind person and would most likely say yes, but Shoto was not so sure if you could handle the sheer intensity of his feelings. This, whatever this was, was all consuming, it left Shoto feeling breathless and restless, for who knows how long. You made him lose focus but you also made him so much stronger at the same time. He would space out in class a bit too often for comfort, which lead to Aizawa scolding him until the tips of his ears turned red.

This was so much more than a simple crush.

Bakugo shrugged his shoulders and exited the classroom. "Whatever you say icy hot. Just don't start crying if things don't go down the way you want them to."

Time passes, you all graduate. Shoto still pines helplessly from a distance but he has gotten just a little bit closer to you. Sometimes you meet up and hang out, he could always feel the tips of his fingers twitching in anticipation, eager to hold you but he kept his distance.

He didn't want to scare you off.

Even more time has passed and Shoto is a professional hero now. He is an honest worker and has built up a strong reputation. Everyone wants to be him or be with him.

But he still wants you.

Even after all these years, he still longs for your touch. He longs to be the only man in your life, the one you come home to.

Shoto watches you from his office window, his eyes glued to you and the person you were so lovingly fondling over. He grits his teeth and clenches his fist so tight that his knuckles turn white as snow.

That should be him down there. He should be the one who gets to hold you, touch you, kiss you.

It should be Shoto Todoroki who you love. Not whoever that extra is. He swiftly turns his gaze away from the window, a sick amusement coming over him. "Extra" really was a fitting term for whoever was down there.

Shoto should have listened to Bakugo all those years ago. He should have listened to him. He may be a cocky loudmouth but he was right and you had slipped right away from him.

Finally, it was time to take matters into his own two hands. He was done longing and lingering in the shadows. He wasn't too keen on manipulating the hero system he swore to protect but damn it all. It had to be done.

Killing your little lover was so easy, it came to him like breathing. The beauty of his quirk that it was so versatile, he could come up with so many creative ways into disposing that pesky thorn in his side. Hot flames and horrid ice marred the flesh of your little lover but Shoto was clever. Oh yes, Shoto was indeed so clever as he made sure to keep the physical torture to the minimum, just in case someone decided to get smart and start suspecting him.

Besides, it was so much more impactful to gloat over his victory. He was the one who was going to take care of you for the rest of your days together.

Not even death could tear you away from him.

Shoto watched the life being snuffed away from the poor sucker as he cried and spat out pools of sweat and blood. There were no heroes here that could help him, not a single soul was in sight.

He was completely in Shoto's mercy. And he was not going to give him a single drop of it.

The pro hero tossed the lifeless body aside and hid it sloppily, because he knew that you would be worried, that people would come looking. He cleaned up the scene of the crime and secured himself an alibi, just to be safe.

Shoto started walking towards his office but the adrenaline of the encounter still pumped in his veins, his mind was all over the place.

And your face was front and center.

Instead of his original plan of waiting it out, Shoto made the hasty decision to just.... Take you. He had waited for years, and years and years. He would be gentle, naturally.

And with time, he was positive that you would come to appreciate him.

And just like that, he was at your front door, ringing the doorbell like crazy. You opened the door in a worried frenzy, dressed in your comfortable pj's which Shoto just adored.

Suddenly, he had pushed you inside of your apartment and closed the door with his foot, freezing it ever so slightly with his quirk. He pinned you to the ground, both of your arms in a single tight grip as the other ever so gently caressed your face. His gaze was wild but focused, so utterly lovesick that there wasn't a single word which could describe the range of emotions he was feeling.

Finally, after all these years Shoto had you where he wanted you. And there was nothing that could change that.

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aibloomie · 1 year

Note

since requests are open could I request smoke session headcanons with sally face? I sent an ask about it before but it wasn't a request, if you remember :)

take your time and it's okay if you don't write them

SMOKING WITH SAL FISHER AND LARRY JOHNSON

ahh yes !! i remember <3 I just HAD to write these for larry too so I hope that's alright (anyway guys don't do drugs, I feel like I'm obliged to say that 😎)

also just the thought of hugging sally and him smelling like cologne mixed with weed?? I need that

SAL FISHER

━ smoking sessions with sally usually take place up in the treehouse that literally only your friend group goes into. and ever since, the two of you like decorating the place and making it more cozy by adding some comfortable furniture

━ he isn't the laughing type, he doesn't get all giggly over everything you say or do. rather, he's calm because for once his head goes silent. but he'd definitely be amused if you were the type who found everything funny – it would make him smile and feel good. he's definitely the type who NEEDS company when he's high, otherwise it isn't a good experience for him because he could get paranoid

━ it's during these moments that the filter in his brain turns off for a while. he can't help but gaze over at you and watch the way the smoke hovers over your face when you exhale. he's more obvious with his feelings, becoming more touchy as the high hits and suddenly he finds himself leaning onto your body, relishing the comfort of being next to you.

━ he stares at you so much, just observing you. he has always found you very attractive, but god, your beauty is enhanced even more when he's high. he admires every single feature you hold

"you're so beautiful." sally says, looking up at you while he rests his head on your lap. you were with your back hitting the wooden wall because your body would surely fall over if you weren't stabilized by something.

you smiled widely and shook your head, "nah man, you're just high. your visions probably blurred." that applied to you, whenever you turned your head, everything felt like it was being slowed down.

sally shook his head, tickling your thighs with his blue strands of hair. "hey, I mean it." he then pushed his body up, looking right into your now lidded and relaxed eyes. he could no longer tell if the feeling of his heart pounding against his ribcage was because of the weed, or because of how you made him feel

━ the type who learns how to do tricks with the smoke !! if you ask, he'll teach you how to do some of them. and of course, he'll beg you to teach him any of the ones that you know.

━ he has the advantage of hiding that he's high really well because he usually has his mask on, but he still goes the extra mile to show that he is NOT high when he is. like when you two walk through the hallway practically leaning onto each other because you guys can't walk correctly. of course you had to bump into lisa cleaning something right?

"oh I haven't seen you two all day! be careful okay, I've been mopping so it might be slippery."

sal immediately tried to stand up straight, gulping before speaking to try and make his voice sound clear. "yeah, thanks." and as soon as you're walking away he's clinging onto you and asking if he sounded normal

━ he takes care of you really well !! he knows when you're at your limit and won't let you go overboard. and if you end up feeling sick then he'll be right by your side asking what you need and doing everything he can to make you feel better. you don't have to worry about "ruining" his high or anything, he just wants you to be okay

LARRY JOHNSON

━ he's so fun to get high with. he has a mixture of everything. the deep conversations that leave the two of you emotionally vulnerable and questioning life? check! chaotic karaoke as you two struggle to get your slurred voices out and eventually end up falling onto the floor? check!

━ HE GETS THE MUNCHIES like literally every five minutes he goes over to open his empty fridge and he comes back complaining. "dude! this sucks I have nothing, should we go buy something?"

"larry we can't even drive right now we're going to crash!" you whined, trying to get some common sense into him because hey, someone has to be just a LITTLE bit mentally stable in this situation right?

larry landed with a grunt onto his bed. "I'm too lazy anyway I feel like I'm melting, let's doordash yeah?" his voice was muffled because he was quite literally speaking with his face planted on his mattress.

and then larry can't type quickly AND he wants the entire menu so ordering doordash takes like an hour

━ larry doesn't make a strong effort to hide that he's high, because nobody in the town really cares. the adults and authorities simply do not get paid enough to care, the only person who might nag him about it is mrs. gibson but thankfully she rarely leaves her apartment. so yeah, he walks past people and does not even care that he smells like weed. he doesn't use eyedrops either, his eyes get glossy but not red.

━ he is definitely the type to come to school high, like this poor guy zones out so hard during class and is so confused when he's given a worksheet with math problems on it.

one time he turned over to the nearest person for help but didn't notice it was travis, "hey what are we doing again?"

"fuck off." travis retorted

"yeah okay."

━ he's kind of an instigator when he's high. you have an ex best friend you want to hit back up? he'll encourage you to go for it with slurred words, being all like "yeah dude, just do it and let me know—let me know what they say." and then the next morning he's like "what!? why did you send them that text? nonono, block them already!" then cue him chasing you around trying to steal your phone from you

BOTH OF THEM

━ the most comfortable place to smoke with both of them is in larry's basement with some sanity falls blasting in the background !! it's funny because sally and larry are drastically different in the way they act. so you'll just see sally laying down on the bed, his eyes closed because he's letting his body completely relax. and then there's larry whose mouth never closes because he voices all his thoughts

━ sometimes it'll only be you and larry talking because sally got the urge to play his guitar and he gets really focused !! so he kind of blocks everything out except for the noise that each string makes and the feeling of his finger pads pressing against them

━ sally is probably the most responsible one so he'll make sure that you and larry aren't doing anything TOO reckless. larry has the tendency of getting easily emotional so you and sally will have to provide him some comfort when that happens </3

━ the three of you have definitely gone to a store together at night for some snacks and ended up getting kicked out and banned because all of the shenanigans you pulled (most of it was larry)

#sally face x reader #sally face headcanons #sal fisher x reader #larry johnson x reader #sal fisher headcanons #larry johnson headcannons #wishing the sally face fandom was alive like in quarantine omg

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meowmeowriley · 3 months

Text

@forestshadow-wolf @myriadblvck Thanks for letting be borrow your thoughts. Have this!

The boys are back in Las Almas to celebrate taking down Hassan. Soap can't help but compare drunk Ghost to a dog.

Alejandro ordered everyone their third margarita of the night. Gaz and Price groaned, Soap laughed. Several Vaqueros filtered away from the booth they were in, as Rudy threw his hands up. "Lightweights!" He called out to his men.

Ghost was in the middle of the booth, he'd wanted a view of the rest of the room, paranoid about what may be lurking, about who could sneak up on them. Soap had watched his paranoia ebb as the tequila sank in. He had his arms crossed, practically laying on the table with his head chin resting on them. His eyes were closed but Soap could see him smile whenever someone, usually soap himself, made a shitty joke. He'd not rolled his mask back down and Soap was not about to be the one to remind him.

Soap was sat on the edge, thankfully. If he was to drink another enormous margarita, he needed to empty his bladder. He got up, excusing himself to the loo quietly, and had taken two steps when he heard glasses clatter and the table screech across the floor.

He whipped around to see Ghost, on his feet, hands braced on the table that was now a solid half a meter from where it had been, and breathing heavily. His wide eyes darted around the room, then up and down John.

The others at the table were trying to calm him. "Easy, hermano." "Ghost? Breathe mate." "Phantasma..." "woah, Simon? You good son?" Ghost didn't even spare the other men a glance.

"Sorry Ghostie, didnae mean to spook ya." Soap tried to placate the man as well. A joke oughtta do the trick. "Just gotta take a leak. I'll be right back.

He expected things to go one of a couple different ways. Ghost could sit back down, be bashful after his outburst. He could pull the table back, make a joke. He could flip Soap the bird and harass him for ruining his nap.

What he did not expect was for Ghost to tilt his head like a confused mutt, and then plant his boot on the table to climb over.

"Mierda!" "Shit!" "Fucken hell!" "Ghost!" The men still at the table scrambled to steady the table, to keep it from flipping as the enormous man clambered up, over, and then back off the table. He came to a stop directly next to Soap, eyes hazy and drooping from the drink, looking for all the world like a puppy that was being left behind.

"Okay." Soap ran a hand down his own face. The bartender was surely not going to be happy about the abuse his table had just taken. "Ye need to pee too then. Coming?" Poor guy was still breathing heavily. Soap watched him clench his jaw tightly, his Adam's apple bounced as he swallowed. He nodded, just once. "Right." Soap turned, and could feel the oppressive shadow looming over him as they made their way to the bathroom at the back of the bar.

He wasn't exactly in the mood for a quick fuck, but he wouldn't say no to Ghost. A small part of him had wished their first little tryst would be something more intimate though, than a hasty nut in a dingy bathroom stall. But that's what he got for falling for the Ghost, he supposed. A cold, rough, efficient man. He'd take what he could get.

Soap walked up to the urinal, Ghost practically blanketing him, and had to push the other man back with a hand on his chest. "Ah really need to pee first, Ghost."

"First?" Ghost blinked down at him, head tilted to the side again. Of course the first thing he'd said in an hour was a confusing single word question.

"Why're ye here Ghost? D'ya need to go?" Maybe the man was too drunk. Couldn't even remember why he'd gotten up.

"Didn't wanna lose sight of ya." Ghost mumbled. He sounded dejected.

"Don't trust me not to piss on the floors, aye Ghost?" Soap ribbed, hoping to wipe the frown off the other man's face.

"Trust you." Ghost closed his eyes and leaned back on the wall behind himself. "Shouldn't, but..." he was quiet, clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times. His fists too. Finally he looked down at John, eyes far away, yet lazer focused. "They called me his dog. 'Shepherd's attack dog', I heard it... from everyone..." the low yellow lighting of the tiny light in the middle of the bathroom caught on the wetness of Ghost's eyes. "M'not a dog..." he whispered.

Coulda fooled Soap, puppy eyes turned up to eleven as they were. A hound left chained out in the rain. "Ghost-"

"Couldn't trust Shepherd. Not after... not after him..."

Soap had known Ghost for a long time. Several years now. Had worked with him a few times, always under the command of the General. Crass, no bullshit Ghost. Got the job done. Something changed in Las Almas.

"Wasn't loyal to Shepherd. Not his dog."

"No. You're more than that, Simon." Soap found himself reaching out. He held his hand near the other man's cheek.

Ghost took the offered hand with his own, nuzzling into it, closing his eyes once more. "Why're you different?" He asked. Soap wasn't sure what he meant. "Ghost... Ghost doesn't trust anyone. Isn't loyal. To anyone. But Simon... Simon wants to keep you safe. Make you happy." His voice cracked a bit on the last words as his whispers fell from his lips.

Talking about himself in the third person, as if he were two separate beings was maybe a red flag. But Soap's favorite color was red. And life was too short to ignore how the man was currently gently rubbing Soaps hand on his own jaw, stubble catching on every crease and divot.

"We could make each other happy." He whispered up to the other man. A promise hidden in his words. A question too.

He watched as Simon's face lit up. He smiled crookedly, missing lateral incisor and snaggled canine endearingly on display. If he'd had a tail, it would be slamming against the wall, if the radiance of his smile were any indicator. "I'll be good for you." Simon whispered into John's hand, before kissing it.

John held back the 'good dog' that threatened to escape him. No need to tease the drunk. He wasn't sure yet how he'd take it.

"I still need ta pee, Simon." He ignored the way Simon whined as he took his hand back, how close they were as John finally freed himself from his trousers. Pointedly kept his mind blank while his hands were on himself and Simon's arms found their way around his middle. How he burrowed his nose into John's hair with a contented sigh.

They made their way back to the table, Simon holding the hem of the back of John's shirt. It reminded him of his sisters golden retreaver, he'd seen it holding it's own leash during walks.

Gaz quirked an eyebrow. "That was, quick?"

"We didnae fuck, if that's what yer thinkin'." John rolled his eyes as he slid back into the booth. He expected everyone to shift over and allow Ghost back to the table, this time on the end so he wouldn't desecrate the table with his boots again, when he saw Price put his head in his hands and mumble something to the effect of 'Goddammit Ghost'.

The man in question was now climbing up the back of the booth that Soap was sat in, slotting himself behind him. Okay then. If Soap were honest, it was kinda nice. Ghost was very clearly marking his territory, as he once again wound his arms around John's middle. He placed his forehead against the back of Soaps, and let out a happy little hum.

"We just talked. An important little chat. That's all." He assured the group. No one dared address the man currently caressing Soaps bicep gently.

Soap couldn't help but think that 'MacTavish's Attack Dog' had a pretty nice ring to it.

#i fucking love a dog analogy #ghostsoap #soapghost #cod mw2 #ghoap #fanfic #text post #call of duty

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pandorafairy · 1 year

Text

Finders Keepers

Neteyam x Daughter of Quaritch (first person)

Quaritch's daughter on Earth had cancer. As a last resort, she was put into a Avatar body and brought to Pandora. One night, she is sick of being stuck with the RDA and she sneaks out. Deep in the forest, she runs into a Na'vi boy.

Quaritch shoves his weapons into his pack as his squad loads up the helicopter behind him. His new body is somewhat familiar, despite being blue. He still has his scar and lethal eyes. He’s still my dad, even if I refuse to call him that.

My own body is still foreign to me: blue, tall, a tail, perked ears. I miss my human form, even if I was decaying, my body full of cancer. Quaritch found me when I was right on the brink, days away from dying. He told my mom he could help me, put me into an Avatar body like his where I could live longer. My mom was hesitant, she doesn't like Quaritch but she wanted me to have a life so she agreed.

Quaritch was hardly ever around growing up, he was way too career focused. He left my mom to do it all alone. But now, he has this newfound need to be a father. Maybe he feels guilty? Or maybe it's cause we're both blue. I don’t know, but either way he insisted I join him on Pandora since my Na'vi body will have no place on Earth. My mom didn’t want me to go but she had no choice; Quaritch always got his way.

Which means that I never get my way.

I cross my arms and stare at Quaritch. "I want to go with you."

“No,” he says gruffly as he jams his gun into it’s holster, “you’re not allowed out there.”

His voice echoes off the metal walls of the compound. “You can’t expect me to stay holed here!”

“Oh, yes I can.”

“I refuse to spend my life in this metal box!” I yell at him before lifting my mask and taking a puff of air. “It’s not made for me.”

“Your human body wasn’t made for you either, kid.” He doesn’t look at me when he says this but the words sting. I can’t help but think of my frail body and bald head. Quaritch turns and marches off towards the rest of his squad. I wish he would just let me out but he's so paranoid about the local Na'vi. He says they're dangerous.

"I'm going insane here!" I scream after him. He doesn't turn around as he disappears around the corner. God, sometimes I wish I had just stayed on Earth. Even if I had cancer, it's better than being here. At least there I had mom and friends. All I have here is a metal box, guns, robots, and psycho military freaks.

Speaking of, a group of them walk past me. Their camo uniforms are the only ounce of color in this place. They don't spare me a look as they pass but I know they see me. No one here dares to look at me. Maybe they're uncomfortable with my Avatar body? Maybe because Quaritch is my dad?

"UGH!" I scream, letting my frustration out. A few scientist looking people in white lab coats look in confusion. I stick my tongue out at them and take another inhale from my mask.

The thought of returning back to my small, windowless room, is enough to make me want to throw up. The hospital was better than this. My mom promised me it would be amazing here: the nature, the culture, the time with my dad (she forgot to mention that Quaritch happens to be an insane overprotective workaholic.)

I take a few steps towards my room before stopping. A few workers nearly ram into me. They step hastily over my tail, adjusting their hard hats before scurrying down the hall. Everyone here thinks I'm different. A freak.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the steel walls. A strange blue figure stares back out me. I recognize the brown tank top and cut off shorts. But the swishing of a tail and the perk of ears; are still foreign. How can I ever know or even enjoy my new body if I'm forever trapped in here?

That's it. I'm going out. Screw whatever Quaritch has to say. I back track, immediately plotting the best way to escape the compound. Which soldiers to avoid, which ones I can bribe, and the best way to leave without a trace.

Quaritch might be furiouse but hey, he should've let me tag along.

~~~

Sneaking out was easier than I originally thought. I scuttle through an underground tunnel that the work cars use to get into the forest. I stay close to the walls, using my new sense of hearing to make sure no one is coming.

And of course, no one does. There probably isn’t a single person in this place that would notice if I went missing except Quaritch. I shove all those thoughts out my mind as I reach the end of the tunnel. Moonlight streams in from the end of it like a sigil of freedom.

My heart lurches in my chest. Finally, I can go outside. I take my mask off and tuck it into the waistband of my shorts. Chitters from animals I don’t recognize float through the tunnel.

I pause as I reach the archway that leads out into the night. The ground looks so soft, covered in greenery and plush plants. The trees are huge, they loom in front of me, making my heart soar. I haven’t been excited about something in so long.

I take one cautious step out, partially expecting for an alarm to go off. But nothing happens. I let a breath of relief followed by a little laugh. I’m outside!

I close my eyes and inhale deeply, smelling the freshness, pines, and the hint of something sweet that fills the Pandora air.

I open my eyes and take off into the forest. My eyes adjust naturally to the darker night and the two moons illuminate the path between trees. All the plants glow brightly and some even twirl as I pass by. All that time, I've been cooped up and missing all of this.

Animals call to each other as they swing through the trees. None of them approach me, they just swing by, seeing me as part of their ecosystem. A smile forms on my face as I keep running. I don’t think of anything. I just let myself enjoy this freedom, enjoy finally feeling at home in my new body

After awhile, I stop to catch my breath. My new body is filled with peace and serenity being in my rightful environment. I place my hand on a nearby tree and close my eyes. Maybe Pandora isn’t so bad.

I walk around the tree and halt, my breathe flying out of me. It’s a small clearing, covered completely by the most beautiful flowers I’ve ever seen. Long petals, all of them shining, some of them twirling slowly. A sweet aroma envelopes me. “Oh,” I gasp as I step slowly into the flower garden.

My mom would love these. She brought me tons of flowers when I was sick. My heart bangs at the sudden thought of her, alone in our small apartment. I reach forward and grasp a petal between my fingertips. It’s soft, much softer than I’d expected.

I think I could stay here forever and just get in lost in the beauty of it all. I mean, this is what my dad has kept me from? What is he so afraid of? I haven’t even seen a sign of the Na’vi…

“Bro, will you please just chill?” A voice cracks through the trees. I go rigid. It’s a boy’s voice. Young and adventurous. And definitely Na’vi. Great.

My hand shake nervously. I inch slowly to the ground before shuffling to the nearest tree where I stand and push myself flat against it, praying he won’t come this way.

“We need to go home,” another voice says, a more mature one, “it is past eclipse and dad will skin us.”

The voices sound like they're coming from my left but I don't dare to peek around the tree.

"Your such a wuss," the younger boy snaps. The voice is getting closer. My blood runs cold. I curse myself for never listening to Quaritch's lessons on how to fight.

Leaves rustle as the boys move closer to me. Please, please let them just walk by, I pray as I squeeze my hands together.

A branch snaps, piercing the air, followed by a loud smack and laughter.

"Ow," the younger voice cries, "Bro!" More laughter fills the air, presumably the older one. They must be brothers.

"You know bro," the young one starts, "I'll just do it anyway." The ground vibrates as footsteps sprint towards me. I go completely still.

The footsteps grow louder as the boy comes closer. I try not to think or breathe. There's a loud crashing from the other side of the tree. The boy runs through, sending a gust of air towards me. He didn't see me from my hiding spot.

I let out a breath of relief before patting the tree as though to say thank you. A moment of silence passes. My heart rate begins to slow. I take a few deep breaths. God, that was close.

I'm about to move away from the tree when a sharp spear shoves me back against the rough bark. A shocked gasp escapes my lips.

A boy stands before me, his fingers grasping the weapon and his amber eyes blazing. He's wearing a loincloth and woven headband where his ears lay flat against his skull. His lips are turned downward into a dangerous scowl.

My heart is banging against my chest. Quaritch was right. I shouldn't have come out here. I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

Suddenly, my neck stings. I let out a hiss as blood trickles down my neck. He just cut me! The boy doesn't say anything as he pushes his spear harder against my skin.

Fear races through my body. I don't want to die like this. I inhale sharply, ignoring the pain in my neck. "Please," I whisper as I slowly lift my hands up, "I don't mean any harm. I was just looking at the flowers."

A flicker crosses the boy's eyes but it's gone in an instant.

"I just wanted to see the beauty of the forest," I continue, my hands shaking.

The boy lifts his head slightly. His pupils widen as he studies my face. His eyes trail the line of my tanktop and shorts in disgust. Evidence of skypeople.

At least if I die, it will be in this amazing forest.

The boy goes still and he tilts his head as if he sees something in my expression. I meet his gaze, hoping to seem brave when a jolt runs through me. It feels like I've been electrocuted. His eyes light in surprise.

"Neteyam!" The younger voice calls from further in the forest. "Bro, let's go!"

Neteyam. He doesn't look away from my eyes. My body begins to feel warm and calm, despite the spear being held to my throat. It's like my body recognizes him. Like we've meet him before. His tail swishes slowly behind him.

"I'm for real!" The voice is louder. He's headed this way.

The boy, Neteyam, quickly shoves his spear away and takes a step back. I should feel relieved that the weapon is away but all I feel is the empty space where he once stood.

He shakes his head briskly, like he's trying to clear his mind.

"Dude," the young voice yells again, but I can hardly hear over the ringing in my ears, "dad is for sure gonna skin us now."

Neteyam looks towards the sound of his brother's voice. My tail flicks behind me, an instinctive movement I've never done before.

Neteyam turns his head towards me. "If you like these flowers," he says softly, "you'll like the ones under the Hallelujah Mountains."

He runs off into the forest before I have a chance to reply. He rustles through the leaves. Then, the low rumble of his voice mixes with his brother's until both of their sounds disappear and I'm alone in the forest.

You'll like the ones under the Hallelujah Mountains. My lips split apart into a grin. The warmth in my stomach is still there, fluttering out to my fingers and toes. Like my body is a magnet, fighting to find him again.

I push off the tree and make my way back to the compound. I should be worrying about sneaking back in or getting caught by Quaritch, but I don't. All I can think about is that boy. Neteyam. Who is he?

I don't even care. All that matters is that I see him again.

~~~

Thank you for reading <3

Ahhh, this was so fun to write!! I thought of this idea when I saw Avatar 2 again yesterday and I was like I have to do it.

I feel like this could be fun as a series?? I don't know, I do a lot of series so maybe this will just be a oneshot. Let me know what you think :)

#neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x oc #avatar fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam angst #avatar way of water #atwow neteyam #atwow fanfiction #na'vi quaritch #avatar quaritch #quaritch fanfic #sully family #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #avatar x reader #pandora #avatar 2022 #x reader

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