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ohnonononononono567 · 1 month

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IM WORKING!!

i have an enemies to lover jason todd x fem!reader otw rn from my asks, promise, expect it soon. i just wanted to say that coryxkenshin needs to come back

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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as im writing through one of my submissions, i had writers block for a second. Then one of the prettiest girls ive ever met asked for my snap, and shes coming onto me way too strongly, and taking advantage of how much i like attention.

yknow what that means? More motivation.

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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IVE SEEN YOUR SUBMISSIONS BY THE WAY! NOT INTENTIONALLY IGNORING THEM!!

im dealing w some massive fatigue and im trying to push through it but im writing in between my offtime i promise <3

like my cat ran out the door this morning and i got up to catch her and when i got back to bed i was panting like i just sailed the seven seas on a fucking rowboat

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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Is there a certain structure you want for the prompts? 👁️

no smut and sum i can write extensively about bro dw

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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gimme gimme gimme jason todd x reader prompts i love attention nothing smutty tho pwease pwease pwease >.< ill do fem, male, gender neutral, anybody bro

#jason todd imagine #help #writing prompt #jason todd x male reader

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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YESSIRRRRRR

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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i dont get how yall are sexist to your cats, my girl cat is more selective when shes affectionate yeah, but she loves me anyways. i feed her ass if your cat is hissing at you for coming near them maybe u got a problem

#cat

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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Ooooouuu okay wait that add a layer to the situation 😭 I hope it works out regardless! 🫶🏽

whoever you are anon you have my heart

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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I too project instead of talking to my crush so not much experience on that front, but I think you should be direct if possible! the worst thing they can do is say no and while it might be heart breaking now you’ll be able to grieve and move on! It might not get easier with time, but you will for sure become more resilient! Not the best advice I know but I’m rooting for you!! 🫶🏽

SEE WERE NOT EVEN CLOSE ENOUGH WHERE I FEEL AS IF PUR FRIENDSHIP WOULD RECOVER EUGHHH its okay bro hes a healthy person and if i get involved with a healthy person, then who will make fanfictions of traumitized individuals with warped senses of love

i lub you anon my bad for being so confusing

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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Artist - John "Soap" McTavish x gn!reader (fluff)

Quick drabble because i can't tell if the guy I like is sending me messages so if you want to comment please comment me advice im going fucking crazy im too socially inept to understand his messages

Johnny found that the world was his muse, his friends, his experiences, everything.

Catching himself drawing you over and over in his notebook, he knew he was too far gone.

Your eyelashes, the slight jiggle of your arms as you walk, the way your cheeks could give away a blush no matter how much or little melanin you possessed.

It was harmless. Just practice he told himself.

Entering your room, stiffening at the sight of you wearing nothing but casual attire...god he's done. Say this shit to the guys at the pub, and he's sure he'd die fom embarrassment. Gunfire, explosives, his lieutenant's testing attitude, his captains questionable ethics, he could handle it.

But choosing between gluing his eyes at the sight of you or avoiding his gaze from you completely was probably asking him to choose between a million dollars or causing the destruction of the world.

He allowed himself in.

He was goofy, charming, he was a social butterfly. You entertained him of course, how could you not? Johnny Soap Mactavish was bright. He brightened up a room.

And if you only knew how bright you smiled with him around.

He sat you down on your bed, and pulled a chair across from you, silently sketching your features. Gently holding your chin in one hand to tilt you to the side to get a better view of your jaw, his thumb seeming to idly rub across your lips momentarily, before he stopped himself.

Don't ruin a good friendship.

Sketching you; he thanked you with a hug, no matter how badly he wanted to tackle you to the bed and tell you over and over he was infatuated with everything about you, to the most irrelevant iota of your being.

Slowly...he started slipping little doodles of you at meetings. Walking past and allowing the touch of his gloved hands on your shoulder linger, a singular sticky note showing a little doodle of you unapologetically smiling.

He found himself in a room, giggling, but always glancing at you, to make sure his joke even landed. He could make a room of millions laugh, but your opinion would be the only to matter.

A drive back from the pub one night, he was sat beside you, and god bonnie you're exhausted. Laying your head on his bulky shoulder, he idly started to scratch at your scalp, stroking your hair aswell.

Internally he was nervous. He could pick up a girl with ease, hell, he's been able to get some handsome blokes into his bed before. But you? You were probably his greatest fear. And here you were.

You were comfortable with him. Him of all people. A man who's known strife early on, a man who doubts you'd care to hear him bitch about his past, as you fell in and out of sleep on his shoulder.

He became bolder after that. Sitting next to you, holding your hand around, arm around your shoulder as he entered a room, standing by you even if you didn't do anything.

He entered your room one day, exhausted; stressed. He doesn't know why he chose this room today of all days.

But he did.

Laying his head on your tummy as you both laid down, scrolling idly on his phone, before he feels your fingers gently thread through his mohawk.

"It's gettin' long, huh?" He mumbles against your stomach, looking at his phone still as you nod.

He sighs, leaning up, looking at the being in front of him.

"I'm gonna kiss you. I've wanted to for a while." He blurts out, looking at you deadpanned.

"John," You giggle. That goddamn smile, makes him weak every time,

"What?" You say

"You heard me."

"Oh."

"You wan' tha'?"

"Yeah."

He chuckles, pressing his lips softly onto yours for a peck, leaning his hands down to hold your sides, before deepening the kiss.

If only you weren't too dazed to realize you'r little artist was tracing little hearts as he held your sides.

Projecting with fanfiction instead of communicating with them is my favorite thing

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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Omg pleasssseee give yourself more credit for your writing it’s an art form and you can only improve with time! I love what you’ve posted so far 🫶🏽😭

would you like a ring and an extravagent wedding aswell as your name in my will

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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im not even the biggest fan of white guys why has my only four posts been white guys my bad bro

unless you hc jason to have a semblance of melanin like me.

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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holy fuck

jason todd posed as saint sebastian request for @bloodyentrails

print

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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Carry me - Simon "Ghost" Riley x m!reader (angst)

Games

Bit by Bit

(This was made after 1am and I projected my OCD onto a fictional character so that's on me guys, my bad. Any bad writing can be blamed on the fact I was watching chernobyl with my cat and eating the saltiest fried chicken sandwich known as i wrote this)

"Simon-"

"Don't." He grunted, leaving his position in your bed. Never his.

The day he admits it's his bed as well, is the day he has the ability to sleep peacefully. And God knows when he'll be granted that right.

He awoke to the sound of screams, his ears ringing. The feeling of water and blood rapidly running under his skin, as if his flesh begged to be free.

You had rolled over to hold his midriff, and Lord help him with how much he's grown attached to you, with how much he wanted to pin you down as if you were nothing more than another enemy in his eyes.

He shot up, just to feel the familiar sting of a hook in his rib as he had sat on the bed.

Stepping out onto the patio with a grunt, a tank top and some joggers on with slippers. The apartment's patio serving as the perfect place to have a smoke, the dog yawning to join. Big fella, she was, nudging snout onto Simons leg.

Sitting down, he grabs a light, lighting the cigarette he had hiding cheekily in his pocket, when he had swore up and down he wasn't smoking anymore less than 8 hours ago.

Burn your wrist.

Shut up Riley, you know better than to act on that.

Do it now.

No.

He leaned back, allowing the nicotine to enter his system, and the tobacco to leave a lasting smell on the rough pads of his fingers. He watched you from the corner of your eye. Silent panic. Wanting to help him. But you can't. All he can do is lie to a therapist and come home to you.

He made this worse. Leave him. You're nothing, but he's worse.

Stop.

He saw you at your worst. Why stay?

Because he saw me at my worst. And he stayed.

He shouldn't have.

Stop.

He knows nothing about you and he goes to sleep saying bull crap about loving you.

"STOP!"

He yells, grabbing his hair in two fists on the side of his head, the cigarette between his fingers, lingering in the night air as the sound of the city stand beneath him.

He looks at you, and you seem to just be staring. Frozen.

It spitballs, as he meets your gaze;

"Stop fucking staring at me like that yeah? You can't fucking help me! You deal with me, or you kick me out. Should've done that by now if you've ever known what's good for you!" He says, throwing his hands up in the air out of exasperation, the dog yelping a bit as she backs away. He heads back inside, putting out the cigarette, and snatching his blanket, heading towards the couch.

You gave him a look as he left. He knew that look. You've set boundaries, he was trying to be healthy for you. Honest. You wouldn't stand for verbal abuse, nor disrespect. But he was weak. Useless in the presence of a man like you.

He knew better than to immediately go to you. He left earlier for the gym that morning, called off work, went to one of those shitty manmade parks with more dog piss than a fire hydrant, and sat himself down. Right in the grass, watching a single dandelion. It was weak. But it still stood in the grass. It moved with the wind, even when it lost it's soft white petals.

And when it was stripped naked, bare, with nothing left to offer, there was another dandelion there. Planted from the wind carrying it. Ready to repeat the cycle.

Why is he doing this? He'll repeat what his father did. He was the end of it. No relatives to fall back on. God knows how much he's begged to bring his brother, Tommy back.

But that's just it. He's the end of the cycle.

Get up. Nobody is coming to save you.

He stands before you now, with nothing to offer, but the willingness to move with you if you'd allow him. If you'd allow a weak man like him to remain with you. He'll continue to lose his petals, but you'll help him plant new flowers. To utter the words,

"I can never truly tell you how sorry I am, love. You are the man I want. You are everything. And it's not enough. But I am trying."

Looking up at you, his bones brittle, his eyes heavy.

He wants to sleep. To feel his flesh settle, his mind quiet.

And as you embrace him, he can feel every molecule in his skin burning.

And if you ever let reality hit that you deserve someone who could think like a bloody normal human for once, would he continue to survive for as long as he could without you to carry him. Until he allowed the world to end what it started.

You are everything.

Laying in bed, your hands hesitantly rubbing his back in soft circular motions as he keeps his head in your tummy, soft breathing as the dog nuzzled into the crook between you two, soft kisses lingering on his tongue, it leaves him before he can chase after it;

"...Would you ever marry me?"

@tabloid-junki3 i dont think i cooked but i did heat it up in the microwave so

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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SMASSHHHHHHHHH

hot chicken tenders & macaroni and cheese (via Instagram)

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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is this a good or bad oh my god guys im horrible at tone no neurotypical person writes sh1t like that if its good tysm bro i really appreciate if its bad im so so so sorry man i was sad when i wrote it

Fool - Jason Todd x gn!reader (fluff???? angst??? dont quote me)

(I have never written a thing in my life aside from mandatory essays in school, nor posted on tumblr)

You popped into the Red Hoods life suddenly. He was disgusted by it. How gentle you were, how you looked at him as if he could treat you right. It felt wrong.

Your little college student life. How you slept peacefully at night, only to wake up to see a cat at your window and to grab a cup of water. It was nauseating.

He considered kissing you his first mistake. Holding your waist to keep you steady, his mask left on your bedside table, as if it wasn't the last thing countless of people have seen before pain befell them. He did good leaving you for a month after that. Never bothering to show up at your window, nor a bouquet at your door. He should've never gotten you accustomed to that treatment.

Seeing you upset didn't hurt him. You need toughening up. This world needs toughening up. The rats he ate in Jokers hold didn't care if he cried, why should he? Yet he found himself falling into your clumsy, yet tearful embrace, wiping away your tears with a huff, lightly patting your cheek and telling you to get over it. When it didn't work, he did what he always knew to do. Adapt. He tried to make you laugh. He allowed the gentle pads of your fingers infect his skin. He let you see parts of him he locked away for a reason.

He felt disgusting for all of this. He doesn't need any of this. He's hurt too many to even acknowledge what one person may or may not care about.

He kept your apartment clean. He hated if it was anything but. Falling into the soft cushions of your sofa after a long night, just to wake up to your smell having left the dingy little apartment for your 9AM class. Must be nice.

On the worst nights of this infectious disease you've given him, he found himself at your bedside as you rest, hands clasped together as he prayed to whoever would listen you'd be safe. That you'd cure him and he'd leave you alone. That no harm would ever come towards you.

He wanted you to leave Gotham. Every goddamn day. He wanted you gone.

And when you'd leave HIM alone, saying you "respect that he needs space right now", he'd call bullshit. You don't respect him. You will leave and hurt him.

He knew he was wrong, all the goddamn time. Whether it was ordering his men to raid a safe house belonging to the Black Mask knowing it would prove fruitless, whether it was to run away from connecting with Bruce in any meaningful way, or whether even through his fits of just what can only be described as a temper tantrum in his eyes, you still fell into his arms, connecting yourself to him only when he allowed it. The world never deserved you. Reality would hit someday, and one fateful day, you'll learn to be as bitter as him.

But he won't allow that to be today. Today he'll sit with the person plaguing every nerve in his body, on a scrappy leather couch only a college student would see as luxury, and the back of your head will rest on his shoulder. He'll inspect every finger of yours, partly to try and find evidence of the magic you might have contained to make him feel like this, before bringing those fingers to his chapped lips, just to remind himself you're here with him. It's not a mental break. He is not a teenager being electrocuted by a Dr. Harleen Quinzel to learn to hate Bruce Wayne, hallucinating an image of who he assumes to be God and mentally beg for his forgiveness. He is here. With you. And the scars have healed.

Fools call it love. Jason wasn't a fool, but he'd allow himself to be. Just for the moment. He wanted to vomit, but he knew if he did, you'd hold his hair for him.

You're a fool.

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ohnonononononono567 · 2 months

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Bit by Bit - Simon "Ghost" Riley x m!reader (mostly angsty)

Continuation of Games btw (Here you go @aliciamorov bro, i gotchu)

"I love you."

"I don't want to love you."

A sentiment he heard from some highschool girlfriend he had for two weeks. Back when love meant skipping your shift at the arcade to buy them Mickey D's.

Back when love was finding peace from your crap father and the butcher shop wouldn't let you pick up more shifts.

He had said it stupidly. In her bed, having done nothing more than drink a beer stolen from her father and his lips swollen from her insistent biting while they made out. Her giggling filling the room, always had a sense of humor that one.

Sitting next to her, hands interlaced, his words slipped out. When she hissed out her reply, he felt a chill run up his spine. Never a fan of snakes.

She liked him nonetheless. She wasn't heartless. But she'd leave for a bloke going to the same college as her next week anyways.

After enlisting, he learned why he was wrong to say what he had said.

Love was strong. And he was weak. He was weak for the way you laughed, for the way your face scrunched up in the morning. He was weak when he yelled at you. He was a weak man. It was shitty to let a girl he can't even bother to remember the name of linger in his mind. But it kept at his brain every second of the day.

When he allowed a thing—No, a person—a person like you into the cracked parts of his being, you filled it with gold. Bit, by bit. You didn't "fix" him. You weren't a psychiatrist picking at his brain and trying to poke and understand why his mindset was "toxic" and "self destructive." You just made him see the beauty he always gloated about.

He wasn't ugly, far from it, but he saw that gnawing pit growing inside him as the ugliest part of him. And that was what was disgusting. It was a part of him.

Yet a man like you never saw him as disgusting. You never saw the chill of 300 bugs crawling inside your skin begging to acknowledge you're a piece of shit on this earth.

You saw a man, in distress.

You didn't tell him to toughen up. You never even touched him if he didn't allow it.

Simon always told himself he'd never allow another man make him feel weak like his father did. It's why he'd find himself fidgeting at your door, wondering if it's even worth it to walk in with those flowers he'd know you'd die for.

But when you open that door, staring at him, and that goddamn dog jumps to meet him, those thoughts leave.

He wants to love you. He wants to be the one to carry the privilege of loving you. But he's weak. And you'll learn to seek better. You're a tough man, and life will fall onto you.

And in his weakness, he'll be unable to carry the burden of hurting you by leaving. So he'll tell himself he's not loving you.

He'll allow you to give him that squeeze in the airport before he leaves. He'll tell you that you'll always be his man. That all his happiness lies with you. He wants it to be true. He knows you'd never want to love him. So he'll protect himself. Internally he'll tell himself he's not in love with the bubbly man who stands in front of him, with their lips connecting.

You see every part of him. And you know he'll realize it's love. He feels what you feel, maybe even stronger.

Bit by bit, he'll realize it.

I DONT WRITE AND I WROTE THIS WHILE IM SAD PWEASE BE NICE :(( (Edit: nobody told me writing #[blank] wasnt the same as tagging your posts i thought i was shadow banned lol)

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