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ladyelissarose · 11 months

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‘Your Touch’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x female solider reader

- Callsign; Taryn (meaning Thunder)

Summary; Who knew that the soldier with the callsign Taryn was actually afraid of the thunder? Maybe it’s loud claps shook her to her core instead of speaking to her? Ghost notices this, and decides to make a move on it.

Warnings: it’s really short but it’s lovely believe me. I’m terrified of thunderstorms so I thought I’d do something about it as I’m going through one right now! It’s mostly fluffy.. enjoy ;)🌻

‘CLAP!!.. BOOM!!’

You lost your breath while your brain short circuited, causing you to almost drop your heavy rifle to the ground. You unfortunately got jump-scared by nature’s screams; Thunder. Loud, screaming thunder, the one that could kill you and wake up the dead at once. It made your heart beat faster and your bones tremble deep in your core. The clouds cried rivers as you did your best to lift every foot completely off the ground as your stepped deeper into her puddles of tears. Thinking about the sun or sunshine didn’t help take your mind off of what scared you the most. Thunderstorms. Yeah, perhaps you were part of the most lethal group in the world as known as the 141 Task Force, but you still had fears. But you didn’t fear what others did, like chains, blood, needles, or even death.

No no... what terrified you to the point of tears and wrecking sobs begging to be released from the cages in your throat, was the sound of thunderstorms. It sounded like screams of a mourning mother and worse than the earth-shaking bombs of the military. Ever sense you were a little girl they scared you, it’s sound terrified your little heart until your mother came to embrace you through the night to sleep. But now without your mother and out in the field as a tough soldier, you did your very best to cover it up and handle it like a champ, though there were occasions that the tears would slip, and your lips would quiver, but you blamed it on the cold-chilly rain to be the reason to your reactions.

So no one in your teamed didn’t know about this this fear of yours... plus, your call-sign or nickname per say was ‘Taryn’, meaning ‘thunder’. But that was only because you had a loud presence, a voice that spoke over others with reason and power. There had never been one to shut you up for they feared being swallowed by your thunderous words. (And those that did- well let’s just say they never did it again:)

Anyways, you’re on night watch with Ghost, he was your sniper, you were his eyes. In complete stillness almost being unseen as the ghost he was, Lieutenant Ghost laid on his tummy beside you as you stood next to him with your special night binoculars, looking for any sight of unwanted intruders. Your eyes kept strong and open, making sure you saw past the rain to catch lingering figures, Ghost’s hands rested on the handle on the rifle as his finger laid delicately on the trigger, he was in position to be ready to aim where you told him too, then he’d snipe them out on your call.

But as your were busy you didn’t realize that Ghost had caught onto you almost dropping you gun seconds ago and how your legs were trembling beside his head, but he knew it was not from the cold- no no no... from fear. He had felt and trembled to that fear before, when he was beat by his father, witnessed the sight of his family’s dead bodies, being tortured closely to death and even buried alive- so yes... he knew fear.

Ghost knew you had a fear, but thunderstorms? Who would of thought? So to keep you calm and steady, as he wished you to be, he tried to call you back to reality. After clearing his throat and noticing the way his balaclava stuck to his skin, he asked softly but still with that deep, British voice,

“Sarge? You good?”

You snapped for a second and stayed still as you replied as calmly as you could, not wanting to give off how on the edge of fall apart you were,

“Yes sir. All good.”

“Hmm... don’t let the rain make you drop your weapon, you could damage a piece then it won’t work properly.”

“Oh. Yes sir. Apologies.”

“No need, just be careful eh?”

“Affirmative.”

“Hmm.. Hmm...”

‘Oh boy...’

Ghost’s ‘hmm hmm’s’ were sounding a little off today, they didn’t sound like of approval or satisfaction, but more like he didn’t believe you.

*bright ass lightning*

It was so bright you could see Ghost so clearly that you even saw the way his black paint around his coffee colored eyes was wearing off. Nonetheless you still thought of the future,

‘Oh fuck no... incoming bitch-‘

‘CLAP!!...’

‘no no no-‘

‘BOOOOM!!!’

“Shit!”

Your whole body jolted like if you had been electrocuted. Now streaks of warm tears fell down your face and blended with the cold ones from the rain, even a soft and small sob left your lips, Jesus it was really getting to you now. But you believed your cries were all blocked off or blended well by the sound of the raging storm. Oh it all just ripped you apart from the insides, your inner child was screaming for mama to embrace you and keep you close, away from all the danger. You didn’t feel like a brave, combat soldier who was like the thunderstorm herself... you felt like kid, a kid who needed a hug, and saving. Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted the binoculars to scan again, and thankfully nothing was out, so you put them back down for now, that’s when you felt a soft tug on your pant leg. Your heart skipped a beat with panic of who it was considering you were already traumatized, but your mind reminded you that it was Simon Riley by your leg, seeking your attention. You blinked away the tears and looked down, as you unintentionally whimpered,

“yeah Simon?”

“C’mere.”

“m?”

“down here. come.”

You right away knelt to the ground and felt the cold rain quickly soak your pants on the knees, but weren’t bothered by it as Simon’s words clouded those thoughts,

“Want to hide under my cape?”

You frowned and pointed at his large Grim Reaper cape cover him nicely, signifying that if that was what he was talking about. He leaned onto one elbow to look up at you as he nodded and repeated,

“So you’re going to come?”

‘Oh ok I’m not crazy he actually wants to share his cape!!’

“oh! You sure-“

He grunted and got back on his tummy,

“Don’t make me change my mind pussy-“

“Ok ok!”

With a short giggle at his choice of words which were usually saved for Soap, you then found refuge on your tummy too but with security under Ghost’s large cape, almost feeling untouchable by what’s out there as you huddled close to him and held your binoculars tightly. You left an inch between him and yourself for respect of course, though you wish that didn’t exist so you could be almost glued to him. Ghost was such a strong, bulky man, a human bear that was both cuddly and deadly, and Damn you were addicted to that combination. Simon then nudge your arm with his elbow as he suggested,

“Come closer Tar.. I don’t bite dove.”

‘No fucking way!! Sweet!’

Of course, you didn’t have to be told twice, in milliseconds you were pressed up against him, propped on your elbows mirroring his position, but what warmed and exploded your heart with awe, love, warmth and lust- ehem.. well what really got your broken and scared to death heart was the feeling of Simon’s hand wrapping around yours tightly. You gasp lowly at his action but nonetheless acted upon it when you cuddled his hand closer to you, relishing in the comfort of the smallest touch he could ever give. You always believed that under all of Simon’s deadly facade as Ghost, he had a soft spot... somewhere inside where he tried to be soulless like a Ghost.. he was still human with a good heart... and this just proved you right as he warned you,

“Never tell a soul about this or I’ll tell them your fear and give them the right to haunt you with it. Understood?”

You nodded quickly and leaned your cheek on your clasped hands as you promised,

“I won’t... thank you Si.”

“It feels nice.”

“It does... should we-“

He locked eyes with you and finished your suggestion with his words,

“Every time. When we feel scared. We can hold one another’s hands dove. If we’re together nothing can touch us. that’s what my mum used to do...”

He ended the last part with sadness in his tone, which you caught and squeezed his hand for extra comfort as you smiled sweetly, but it faded quickly when you saw it,

*deadly ass lightning strike*

Instinctively Simon pulled you practically under his chest with your ear pressed against him where his heart would be. He then covered the side that was opened, but not before saying into them kindly,

“It can’t touch you remember? I got you.”

*.... thump.. thump.. thump.. thump..*

The beyond, calming heart of Simon soothed your troubled soul, and also joyed you when you didn’t hear the terrifying sound of Mother Nature but instead the gift of life in Simon’s body. When it had passed Simon kissed your head through his mask and let you go to get back in position, which you did but still found his hand again without skipping a beat.

“Mm mmm.”

Now that, sounded like the delightful humming of Simon, he was pleased, and peaceful... you too were now. You took a quick glance at him but saw how his eyes were on yours first before he looked away shyly. You blushed a little and looked ahead feeling better, and so secure with him. It was probably the beginning of the best night watches and life you were going to have.. as long as you had Simon Ghost Riley by you.... and Simon believed the same thing, when he felt his heart beat differently but nicely at the touch of your hand in his, and also how you reminded him of his loving mother, who with just touch... he was a healed and protected kid. You both healed your inner child at one another’s touch.

#Heal me Ghost I can’t take thunderstorms!!#ghost simon riley #cod simon riley #glen powe #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff #ghost fluff #cod fluff #call of duty

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chrlvctius · 8 months

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one chance pls (i love ham sandwiches as well😞)

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terrence-silver · 22 days

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Imagining high school sweetheart!beloved and Terry getting married before he gets shipped off to war and Beloved always sending letters to Terry while he’s away

Bonus: Terry comes back home after the war and finds Beloved’s unsent letters to him that were written when he was M.I.A. and sees how worried she was about him

---

I feel nobody would believe Twig is married because he's, well...Twig!

He's so young! So shy! So wide eyed! Scrawny! The idea of Privates infinitely more experienced and worldly than him only just being in the stage of sharing correspondence back home with their respective sweethearts and go-steady girlfriends while this kid here is already legally married is straight out of the Twilight Zone for most of his fellow soldiers who immediately wrote him off as a sore loser, perhaps with the rare exception of John Kreese who stands up for him and defends him when he's teased and called a liar who just about invented a full-blown Missus for himself to seem cool and less of a wimp in the eyes of everyone else, the letters he receives from beloved deemed fabricated one way or another even though they're actually entirely legitimate, the parcels bearing the seal of the military mail, arriving the same as everyone else's packages do.

''Did your momma write those?''

Someone might cruelly jest right before Kreese gives them a look, telling them to step off.

Gets slightly worse during POW captivity. All the members of Twig's platoon are in the same mess but it doesn't prevent in-fighting and the day-to-day cruelty and microaggressions from continuing even inside of a cage when validly, once communications are entirely cut off and they're trapped deep in enemy territory, there is no way for beloved's letters or anyone's as for that matter to come in and circulate, and the soldiers and even Twig's own Commanding Officer Turner never let him forget that like he's somehow to blame (And in their mind's eye, he is. They feel he's got them all captured through his negligence and incompetence. There will be payback for that. If the Vietcong don't do him in, his own will. For all Turner cares, Terry Silver got them here and pray to God, in the following weeks, he'll make this kid's life so difficult in this cage he'll wish the Vietcong ended him day one, bullet to the brain, same as Ponytail and what better way to utilize psychological warfare than to use the boy's own spouse against him the way he later tries with John and Betsy), finding it an apt pastime to pester one of their own even when facing death, torture and execution from the Vietcong that captured them. It's easier in a weird and very sick sense; poking and prodding at the weakest link in the hierarchy of things to better endure the gravity of the situation and just forget for a while.

You do some pretty awful things under duress.

''Guess the love letters stopped now, eh, Twig?'' Turner mocks.

''Momma back home ran out of ink?''

The older man laughs into his own chin as Twig scoots further back against the bamboo bars of their shared jail, missing beloved so badly he can feel the ache of it in his bones, loathing the fact he has no control of anything going on and John Kreese, witnessing the sight and having stood up for his friend countless times vows that one of these days, he's gonna give their Commanding Officer a piece of his mind even if he ends up court martialed for it after they're released seeing as how John can vouch that if the other soldiers are boneheads Captain Turner has enough intel on his own men to know for a fact Twig never lied and that he is in fact married back home. That beloved's real the same way his Betsy is real. Man has no excuse for the hell he's putting Twig through just because he can. John gets his chance to retaliate for the abuse a few weeks later once the Vietcong force them to fight over an open pit of snakes.

As for Twig?

Once they're rescued from the POW camp, he is finally reunited with the stack of letters beloved's been sending him back at base and it's like being reunited with a missing limb. When he gets home, beloved gives him a package of unsent mail just around the time he was captured and gone missing. Everything he's been made fun of entirely real and genuine; not one word of it a lie or made up. Everything right there, in black and white, written down with beloved's own pen. Every bit of concern. Fear. Care. Of course, it only serves to turn him a little more...well...Terry Silver as we know him. No point in being truthful if he won't be believed anyway, even when he is. Might as well fabricated. Might as well manipulate. Everyone who ever laughed at him died. And he's here. He survived. He is loved. He's won. And he'll keep winning and winning.

He hugs the stack of letters and beloved close to his chest with a vice grip.

The first seeds of something very dark have long been sown.

#high school sweetheart!beloved #terry silver #terry silver twig #twig terry silver #tw; vietnam #tw; soldiers #tw; military life #letters #tw; pow captivity #tw; vietnam war #john kreese #captain george turner #captain turner #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #fluff #dark fluff #angst #ponytail

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 7 months

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Do you do requests? If not u can ignore this. Do u know how people say that a hero would save the world over u, when a villain would save u? That w Hiccup. Like Hiccup having to choose between saving y/n or others and he doesn’t choose y/n and then believes she’s dead. That would be the final straw for her and she would eventually start a relationship w the dragon hunters.

Can u tell I love angst😭

Castoff

Pairing: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Villain!Reader

Words: 2328

The gentle brush of fingertips as they slip apart, the pounding of blood as his heart falls out of your grasp. Those are feelings you are familiar with. Your relationship is one made up of meanings searched for where they are not, a deep care uprooted by a raging current and a single, meaningful mistake.

Tags: Angst, fem!reader, heartbreak, villain reader, unresolved insecurity, anger, canon divergent, first part?, suggestive content, RTTE, Httyd 2, 'Always the Angel, Never the God' adjacent

Next>

He knew before she did. You knew just as long as him. It wasn’t the kind of thing you or anyone else talked about, really, not to anyone but your parents and your true meant-to-be. But it was there. And you knew for the longest time that they were meant for eachother.

You didn’t know that it would have ever ended. Yet somehow, supposedly, it did. You still felt like an outlier, though. Your heart was his for so long that to see them together felt like a betrayal, and to be with him now felt like a betrayal of that.

You saw the look in his eyes, you watched them treat each other so familiarly, watched the others close in around them, perhaps looking to share in the joyful atmosphere, knowing that should you step into the light, the moment would be ruined.

You stepped away from the half open door, back into the darkness of the cabin, wondering how they could be so happy together even after the raid, a skirmish so tough and violent with some new dragon hunters from outside the area, unlike any of the ones you’d dealt with before.

There was true love, romantic love and meant-to-be love.

Brown armor, red shirt, green eyes. Hands held gently, preciously out for your own.

For the longest time, you didn’t have a love, true or meant-to-be. Well, you had a love that was certain to be true, but wrong in that it was made for someone who’d already given his heart to another. A heart that he’d, supposedly, taken back.

Now, you wondered what sort of love he held for you.

You made to reach out, but instead you turned away, missing the look of hurt you knew you would be there. You couldn’t, not with any of the others around.

You didn’t miss the hushed conversation, carried on just the same as it was earlier but in lower tones, the small looks shared between them, the unsaid idea that maybe you just weren’t right. That you were a bad pair.

You knew what would greet you if you looked back; the hurt in his eyes, the loose brows, the slight disappointed tilt of his lips.

You furrowed your brows. You let him down again.

But it didn’t feel right, to love and share love, especially with her so closely there. With the ghost of them ever so present. It filled you with shame.

There was no bitterness held, only guilt born from many nights spent awake condemning yourself for your yearning. It was something you’d long since accepted was meant only for the dark of night, when no one else was awake enough to hear your heart flutter.

You still felt as if he was hers, that you were encroaching on something you weren’t supposed to have. It was a messy situation. They ended amicably, you’d been feeling terribly for a long, long time. You wondered if the feeling, the bone-deep hate for yourself, would ever go away, like you’d dreamed.

You had to stop and wonder when Hiccup the Useless became Hiccup and Useless.

You buried your head into your knees, tired of staring out over the windy clifftop. No number of waves or gusts of wind could brush away your troubles.

You didn’t even miss Berk. You didn’t have a reason to go, nor one to stay. Just a floater, tethered only just so by the tattered, frayed strings of your own heart.

He was sitting next to you, a silent question on his lips, left unsaid but just as clearly heard.

You couldn’t forget how lonely you were, then and before, after he left you. A friend, somehow still physically so close and yet so far out of your reach. How quickly you were othered, how quickly you were labeled a pitiful tag-on. No amount of love, hidden nor shared, could ever make up for that.

Something tense was in the air between the two of you. You refused to give it a name, though you knew what it was just as well. It felt like the end. It felt like a new, terrible beginning. It felt like the heaviness in your gut and the slight burning of your eyes caused by the thin spray.

Your touching fingertips became more as you clutched his hand, squeezing it.

You’d always been the confidant. To have the position switched was odd, unfamiliar. Hiccup was gawky and unsure in your boots. To have your troubles laid out between the two of you, of which there were many, disturbed you. The idea felt like a violation.

So, without the words to speak them, you worked around. You found words you could speak, parts of some that were difficult and some that weren’t and strung them together like the split stems of flowers into a very nearly presentable crown.

You turned to your right, looked at him pleadingly, though you weren’t sure what you were pleading for. Nothing, everything at once, not to leave you behind, not to make you stay.

“Hiccup,” You stared hoarsely, hesitantly. It was silly, it was stupid saying it aloud. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He never would.

Truly, you had only one question.

“Do you love me?” You asked. He looked confused, startled.

You leaned closer. You couldn’t tell which way he moved, if he moved at all. You imagined he moved away. He waited.

He looked at you expectantly. Unsurely. Why weren’t you moving closer?

You’d never loved or been loved in any sort of way which mattered. The fact that you hadn’t felt like a burden, somehow just another reason as to why you weren’t deserving. An onerous boon that you just wanted to be rid of.

You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know if you could.

He knew what was supposed to happen next. He’d experienced it; done it and had it done many times over. You hadn’t.

You two hadn’t been that close yet, not at all, not physically. This was not a boundary the two of you had yet crossed. You shared nothing more than a few mumbled words into the neck, a few shared words in your nook, a tight embrace and hands held loosely in the quiet darkness of the night. Promises, dedications. No actions.

The others knew about it, though. They heard the declaration, quiet and uttered as if it was just a casual thing. For him it was. You said nothing.

How could you?

You hesitated, waiting for an answer. Your lips twitched. Your eyes burned, stronger then. You shook your head and dropped his hand, which he let fall to the wayside. Using your hands and the floor, you pushed away.

As always, you couldn’t bear it. He waited for you, just as you didn’t want to be someone to wait for. You wanted to already have it. You wanted back the years you spent wasting away, coveted back the years you spent watching him give what you desperately needed so casually to another.

You stood, then.

It was a surprise when the two of you came together. No one had expected it. It seemed off, out of place. You weren’t sure Hiccup himself had, drifting in the spaces left between after he and her had split paths.

You turned. You held your elbows and hunched your shoulders, turning your back to him and pushing against the wind, which though was light, felt all of the sudden as if it was way too much.

You weren’t sure he meant it. Whether or not this was real or something he’d just fallen into as per convenience.

You did. You meant it. He was your true, he was your romantic.

What kind of love do you hold for me?

You knew the answer, plain and simple.

None. None at all.

You stood in the darkness of your cabin. Your windows were blocked, though you didn’t need the light. You’d been in for a while, you were used to it.

You’d exhausted your usual time-taking avenues, left with nothing but maintenance; folding, organizing, sorting.

It was awkward. Since the clifftop, the two of you were distant. You didn’t avoid each other, but you also didn’t speak. It was a miracle that nothing had happened yet to force the two of you together.

You were beginning to believe that was the end of your relationship. You were having a hard time accepting it, though the feeling was creeping into your heart slowly and you were beginning to feel empty.

You didn’t flinch as the door to your cabin opened, creaking, though you winced as you turned back towards the light, started as he came up, pressing you against the wall.

Your lips met.

It was not rough, more just so. It unbalanced you all the same.

He was unsure, nervous. Clumsy. But it was strong. But it was meaningful. But you could tell he meant it.

You molded into his shape just as he molded into yours. Hesitantly, unsurely, you responded. He was gentle enough to guide you.

Once again, you asked, though not so much in words as actions; Do you love me?

And this time, he responded. Your heart bloomed. Not violently, not roughly, just so, enough for a shining pink petal to crest the green sepal.

Yes. Yes, I do love you.

You were light, you were fervent, you were free. You believed him.

The same hunters from before. The lot of you had gotten captured. You were too distressed to remember if it had been your fault. There were rocks sharpened to a point below you, gray skies and windy, stormy seas rushing tumultuously below.

You were far from the Edge. In unfamiliar territory. Any allies unaware and absent. The dragons, trapped in cages long behind you.

Hunters were sailing away behind you. It was a victory, however it was also one that came with a terrible price. Something had been set off, violently at that, throwing you off the edge of the cliff face, destabilizing the cage held by a chain pinned to the rock above by a thin steel nail.

“Hiccup,” You pleaded, breathlessly as your body struggled to keep up with your weight, with the rope and chains tied around your ankle, “H-elp.”

I need you.

“Just- hold on, the others-” He crouched, glancing frantically between you and the others handing caged off the side. Their chains were thin, yours were thicker though both were just as equally dangerous.

Please, I need you now.

You jerked back as another rope snapped. Unheard by his ears, drowned out by the raucous waves below and by the rattling of empty cages, pushed around in the air. Unseen as his eyes trained on the others.

Hiccup didn’t see, eyes trained elsewhere. There was no time to waste. After all, if he helped you up, in the time that took, they might fall. They would fall.

“Hiccup!” Astrid shouted. Snotlout shouted. You remembered how they looked before you’re been knocked off. Fishlegs panicking, mumbling to himself zealously, distress projected clearly for all to see. Ruffnut and Tuffnut yelled mindlessly into the air, a waning battlecry as the island deteriorated around you

Somehow, in between terror, in between the pain of your ankle as it threatened to snap and the taut muscle of your arms, a grim doom began to worm and thrash and coil in your gut.

“I’m not- I’m not going to make it,” You said desperately, voice crackling, face crunching as tears began to spill over the edge, shoulders straining, holding on just barely.

“Please, there’s-Just, cut me loose-” You prayed, to whichever god was out there, he still had his knife. That he had something sharp. You were going to die.

You could tell he was stressed, overwhelmed, just as panicked. He shifted restlessly, stiffly, perhaps a million times in the last minute. Noise built up in his throat as he spoke but you were unable to hear clearly as your ears filled with buzzing. You tried to speak, but you couldn’t hear your own voice, too breathless and strained to make a sound.

You watched his eyes flicker, you saw the soot on his face and each strand of his hair as it waved in great detail, your world slowing down to a halt.

He stopped. You caught his eyes briefly, you saw as an idea formed, as his resolve hardened, and as he made his choice. You knew it would not be one he made for you.

“Hold on!” Hiccup shouted, as the other’s cries grew more intense, ears deaf to your pleas. He pushed away towards the other side of the cliff, running towards the others as their cage dipped once again.

There was a sharp pain in your chest, as if the nails you dug in with so despairingly were instead gripping your lungs, sharp and unforgiving.

Do you love me?

You were going to die.

You blinked away tears and snot and all the little, tiny shards of your heart that had gotten stuck in your eyes on their way out.

You just had to hold on. You just had to hold on until Hiccup got back.

You shouted something wild, something animal as your fingers gave, numb with cold and sliding loose even as you commanded them to grip tight. You had no way to fight, no thing in which to fight with as your hold weakened on the slippery rock.

Your nails hurt as they worked against rock and loose dirt, fragile roots and falling stones. Your fingers pained as they worked furiously against themselves.

Hiccup left you. He wasn’t going to come back. You were going to die before he came back.

It was like a stake had been shoved into your gut.

Hiccup left you.

You were going to die.

Your vision whited out.

You were going to die.

You couldn't hold on any longer.

You fell.

#bam pow i do do requests #winner prompt #angst central #angst #how to train your dragon #httyd #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #fem reader #female reader #angst with unhappy ending

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icarus-star · 6 months

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danny n his STUPID fucking ponytail

#pow!! 👊💥#gonna pull it #swing him around in circles by it and throw him #and then fvck him until he cums #hard #dan cooper smut #danny cooper x reader #i ❤ rory culkin #rory culkin #gif #gifs #my gifs #danny cooper #intruders 2015 #intruders movie

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schizoidcel · 2 days

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Button said to shoot you , so i will do it *bang , bang , bang*

what do you think about headcanons with Lui association Ishmael x Sarcastic but smart Reader ?

## LIU!ISHMAEL x READER ★

🤍 ﹒ DUMBLINGS . .

－ notes ̽ ۪⠀i think yes

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

I imagine Ishmael having beef with any kind of snarky person

And if they're smart too? uff .

Needless to say she would definitely not be fond of you when you two first meet, or the days after that (maybe months) (maybe y

Anyway.

I feel like Liu Ishmael specifically does like/use sarcasm but not to the point that it's someones whole personality in a way

As in 24/7, because she thinks it's insufficient for work when sarcastic comments are used all the time

I could imagine teasing her because of her loner lifestyle in the story

Sarcastic smart reader would definitley be on Ishmaels ass all the time, relationship established or not

Pre-established relationship would be tons of back and forth.

Problem is reader sees it as teasing (atleast on their side) but Ishmael genuinely wants to punch their guts and turn it into tommorows beef noodles

Ishmael is a smart person herself, but everytime reader corrects her on something (especially because they're being so painfully irritable about it) she wants to punt them.

If they're on the same branch it's #over

Rodion would see your relationship as some kinda old marriage trope, make comments about it etc and Ishmael hates her for it

but what she hates more is how lowkey true it is

Rodion hops in on the teasing just for fun when reader and Ishmael have their 'lovers quarrel' and Ishmael ALWAYS goes "STAY OUT OF THIS?!"

One is enough. She dosen't want to deal with two idiots.

Reader would join her sometimes when she has lunch and she hates to admit it but she tolerates their company (the toleration starts on day 4)

To the point where she'd miss them at times when they're not together

She still prefers to be alone, as she dosen't make an effort to get on a table with others even after her and reader share some lunch periods together. But everytime reader is in the room, she'd prefer to be with them instead of being alone

She thought of them as just a familar first, and tried to not get too close (keyword tried) as that could backfire quickly, especially in the City

But she realized her feelings rather early .

And as embarassed as she was, she didn't want to deny them

I could imagine Ishmael confessing first and reader being caught off guard for the first time .

Ishmael didn't have any intention of making them flustered, but she definitely wouldn't let go of it after

Now she has something to be an asshole about to YOU

i wrote this while i was having horrible cramps but they dissapeared after i finished thank you for afab power ishmael.

ૢ་༘࿐ thank you for reading ! Ⳋ᧙

#ishmael x reader #lcb x reader #limbus company x reader #or should i say. ahab powe ishame #suddenly a plane crashes into my apartment and i get penetrated 😪#i feel like this is lowk short.

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eatommo · 2 years

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Damascus [j.b.b]{kd12}

Knife play/bondage/cock warming

CW: Knife play, pain kink, mentions of blood, marking, cock warming, bondage, riding. pet names, this is a little aggressive on the knife kink so please read at your own risk, he carves letters into her skin, unprotected sex, creampie

You would usually never complain about sitting on Bucky’s lap, or sitting on his dick entirely, but this? It was near painful. Your shoulders ached, strung up above your head and tied to the beam above you, and you felt the tip of his knife dragging across the delicate skin of your nipples.

You fight against the instincts you’ve trained, even leaning into the blade slightly, feeling the bite of the cold metal as it splits your skin open just enough to sting.

His hard cock was nestled inside of you, unmoving, almost begging for your weeping pussy to challenge his composure as you tremble and expose your neck for him as he trails his stubbled lips up the column of your throat. He pauses hovering over your pulse, you swear you can feel his smirk as he shifts your weight in his lap, giving the muscles in your shoulders reprieve but nudging the head of his cock against your cervix.

You fight a groan by chewing your lip, the noise gets caught by his teeth and pulled from your chest against your will as he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your jaw, sucking a bruise you’ll struggle to cover for weeks.

“Is there something you want beautiful?” You pull your lips between your teeth, knowing that if you beg and plead with him his smugness will just make him hold out longer. But you also feel if you don’t start grinding against him you’ll combust.

“Let me mark you up more princess.” He switches the knife to the cool expertly crafted metal hand you’ve come to both fear and respect. He starts at the center dragging the knife in a sweeping motion, it takes a few seconds of grimacing before you recognize the shape of a “J.” Cool air and pain pull your body taught around him, unwilling to break his talentful concentration as he carves two “Bs.” trailing down your spine.

You feel small droplets of blood line the new intials in your skin, tears forming in your eyes as you continue to practice great discipline and composure.

When he’s finished the knife clatters to the ground, startling you from your compliant stupor, “So good for me baby, love that you give yourself to me, to just me, like this.”

You nod and bury your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling the rich musky metallic smell of his skin, and kissing the scared flesh connecting his shoulder to his arm. “I love you,” the words feel like too much and not enough all at the same time, “I wouldn’t want you any other way, Buck.”

To your surprise, he breaks first. Arms wrapping around you and lifting you up and down on his cock furiously. You kiss along his jaw, eager for his mouth to meet yours as you both approach your teased climaxes, faster than you thought possible.

“Please, I’m so close.” Your brows stitch together.

“Yeah? Cum for me baby.” His human hand brushes against the cuts on your back, delicately tracing over them as he swears under his breath.

Together, you fall to pieces, losing every ounce of control you’ve both worked so hard to possess.

#bucky barnes #my baby my bucky #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky smut #marvel #the winter soldier #sebastian stan #pow pow pow #kinktober 2022

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boombeombammie · 2 years

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(fic) face value

pairing: haechan x reader

rating: spicy T, room for more

wc: ~1200

warnings and tags: they like barely make out this is mostly cute. band fic, pic inspired, haechan pouty brat kink (personal; derogatory)

a/n: sorry to my gc thank u to my gc. started as a blurb there so the second half probably reads a lil differently. if there are typos no u didn’t.

~~~~~~~

You've just been called in as the emergency keyboardist for a local band since their usual player can't make Saturday's show. You've only got three days to learn enough of their track list to get by. You are, however, worried about how you and the lead singer can't stop staring at each other. You'd think he hates you -- he was staring a little too hard at your audition too -- except for the way that every time you make eye contact he gets a little red.

You finally snap and corner him after one of your rehearsals, pulling him into an empty spare room.

"What's your problem, Haechan? If you didn't want to give me the gig you should've bothered your bandmates, not me."

"What are you talking about? You were my first pick." When he steps forward, you step back, until you can't, your back flush against the now-closed door. Suddenly you wonder why you didn't turn the light on first. This feels weirdly intimate, especially when he leans in closer.

"I thought we worked well together," he whispers, and you can hear him laugh a little when you suddenly can't meet his eye.

"We'd work better together if you stopped glaring at me," you mutter, but what you really mean is, I'd work better if you stopped staring at me.

"So what's it mean when you're staring back?" he asks. This time, you have no choice-- he tucks his knuckles underneath your chin and holds you there, eye to eye. You don't say anything. He's too close, suddenly, and your face is so hot. "Tell the truth," he whispers, and he's not laughing anymore. He steps closer, even though there's nowhere else for him to go except against you. "Please?" But you can't.

"I have to go, my bus--" and you're gone, bolting from the room before he can stop you, leaving his hand in the air, where you were just a second ago. __________

You stay up half the night thinking about him. You remember how it felt watching their first show-- how good he was on stage, how solid the dynamic was between the band, how round and red his cheeks got when he laughed up there, in his element.

And then you remember how it felt in the dark with him, the warmth of his body against yours, how firmly he’d held your chin, how small he smiled when it was just the two of you.

___________ At the next rehearsal, you find him and Jaemin waiting outside the studio space for someone else to finish up. For the first time, he won’t look at you at all.

You ignore it. You sit down across from them on the carpet and talk to Jaemin like this isn’t bothering you-- even though even he seems to notice something is up, glancing between the two of you once or twice. “WOW,” he says loudly, a few minutes into ignoring the elephant in the room. “I think my phone is ringing.”

“Your what?” You know he’s lying-- he knows you know he’s lying-- but he only grins, patting his pocket as he stands up.

“I’m vibrating. It might be an emergency.”

You watch him go-- and watch, too, as he catches Renjun and Mark outside, steering them with him as he moves away from the door.

“Smooth,” Haechan mutters. When you look over at him, his eyes are glued to the wall.

“I didn’t think you were talking to me,” you say, a little amused despite yourself.

“I’m not.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“Badly,” he says, clearly pouting now.

You laugh and crawl over to him, delighting a little at the way he glances, pretends he didn’t, and does it again.

“Then maybe it’s time to stop?”

“You told me not to look at you,” he sniffs. “So I’m not.”

“Haechan--”

“I can take a rejection when it’s a real rejection,” he grumbles. “But it wasn’t even-- you ran,” he says, and you can’t call him wrong.

“I know,” you say, and scoot a little closer. You’re almost between his legs, now, and when he still won’t look at you you glide your hands up them, light over his denim. You feel his muscles tense under your hands and then his legs are spreading a little wider, making room for you between them.

“So is it?” he asks when your hands still. His thighs are warm and wide and you kind of want to lie down on them, feel how plush they’d feel under your cheek.

You zone out without meaning to, and when you look back up at him you find him looking at you, expression wide open. You knew he was attracted to you, but you didn’t expect this-- nerves, a little longing, and, you think, pure desire.

“Is it what?” you ask, digging your fingers in. He gasps, sharp enough that you feel his body jump a little.

“A rejection?” he asks, and swallows.

You move your hands between his legs-- and laugh when that makes him jump, too-- but they’re just there to hold you up while you lean in, watching the way his eyes dart from your eyes, to your lips, to the gap of your shirt where it falls open, back to your mouth. He runs his tongue over his lower lip.

“Maybe it was nerves,” you tease. “Maybe--”

You don’t get anything else out. His hands are gentle where they hold your face but his mouth is rough, pressed so tight against yours you forget to breath for a second. Forget, too, that the only things holding you up are your hands; you try to touch him automatically and then you’re falling forward. And then his hands are on your waist, pulling you into your lap instead while he deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth and catching his teeth against your lower lip before he pulls away. You breathe together for a moment. You realize that the staring, when it’s mutual, is different than you expected. Warmer. Softer.

“Maybe I just didn’t want it to be a groupie thing,” you blurt out.

He smiles slowly, running his thumb against your lip, the curve of your cheek.

“Does this feel like a groupie thing?” he asks. He presses a kiss, chaste in comparison, against your mouth, and then your cheek, and then just under your jaw, his tongue barely brushing against your skin.

“Not really,” you sigh, relaxing against him. His hands move from your waist to your ass, mouth stlil busy sucking and nipping at your neck, and you’ve just gotten a hand in his hair when you hear a cough from behind you.

“I don’t want to, like, interrupt, but we only have the room for two hours and--”

“Mark,” Jaemin hisses, and you can’t help it-- you laugh, even though you can feel Haechan pouting against you. “I said give them five minutes.”

“Five minutes are up!”

“We should go,” you say, tugging him away from your skin by the hair-- and you don’t miss the way his eyes flutter at that.

“Jaemin said five minutes,” he says mulishly, but he let’s go of you when you stand, and smiles at you when you pull him to his feet.

“There’ll be five minutes after,” you suggest, and he laughs.

You notice, as you move to pick up your keyboard case, that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, and you think maybe that’s a good sign.

#haechan fic #haechan x reader #nct fic #nct x reader #nct haechan #haechan smut #nct 127 fic #haechan scenarios #nct 127 x reader #ficlet #nct 127 #nct #and then later they pukka pukka pow pow #POSTED THIS ON THE WRONG ACCOUNT FIRST IM DIZZY #my fic

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