#gn!reader fic

[vodika-vibes]

It Was A Bet?

Summary: Tech admits that Echo was dared to ask you on a date, and your whole world comes crashing down around you.

Pairing: TBB Echo x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1150

Warnings: This made me weepy as I was writing it. Miscommunication.

A/N: So, I've been toying with this idea for a couple of weeks, and I finally had enough to turn it into a story. Also, writing is hard right now because whenever I look at a screen for longer than 30 minutes I get a headache. I desperately need new glasses.

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Your comm has been ringing non-stop for the better part of the day. And you know that if you were to look at the name on the screen it would have Echo’s name. 

You don’t want to talk to him.

You don’t want to see him either.

But you also know that the next step is for Echo to show up on your doorstep and insist that you let him in.

You don’t want to.

You feel raw. Exposed in a way you haven’t felt since you were a teenager.

Why couldn’t Tech have kept his big mouth shut?

…no.

No. That’s unkind of you.

This isn’t Tech’s fault. And him not telling you about the dare wouldn’t change the fact it happened.

And, to Tech’s credit, when he realized that you had no idea what he was talking about, he apologized to you and mentioned that he thought that Echo would have mentioned it to you by now.

But he didn’t.

He didn’t, and now you have to wonder if any of it was real. Or was it all pretend? Was it all designed to make him feel better about himself?

You jump when you hear a knock on the door, which is annoying seeing as you expected it, and you turn your head to stare at the carefully painted door. 

“Cyare? I know you’re in there. I can see the light on.” Echo’s voice comes through the door, “Open the door, please?”

You stare at the door for a moment longer, and then you pick up the remote and turn up the volume on the holo.

“Oh, very mature.” Echo says on the other side of the door, “No. Wait. I didn't mean that. Cyare, let me talk to you. Please?”

Again, you don’t respond.

“I have all day. And I have no issues making myself a problem to your neighbors.” Echo warns.

You scowl at the holo, but this time you drop your legs from the couch and stalk over to the door. You slam your hand on the button to open the door, though you open the door enough to look out, “What?”

Echo sighs, “You’re not going to let me in?”

“You’re lucky I’m even talking to you.” 

“Right. Fair.” He runs his hand over his head, “Let me explain. Please?”

“What is there to explain?” You counter as you fold your arms, “You were dared to ask me out. You won. Congrats. I never want to see you again.” Sure, it feels like you’re heart is breaking in your chest, but it’s fine. You’ve always known this was too good to be true.

“Wait, wait! It sounds bad. I know it sounds bad. But you don’t have the whole story.”

“What more do I need to know? That you laughed at me when I confessed to you? That it was all a joke to you?”

“What? No! It wasn’t! None of it was!” He places his hand on the side of the door, “Let me in, please? Don’t make me have this conversation with you out here?”

“Echo, please.” Oh, your voice is shaking. You’re going to cry again. Stupid traitorous body.

On the other side of the door, Echo falters. There’s a flash of guilt, and then he shifts and pushes the door open enough that he can enter your apartment.

Once inside, he lets the door close behind him, and he takes a step towards you, reaching out to touch you. Though he stops when you take a step away from him. 

“Cyare, please let me explain.” He’s pleading with you, alternating between panic and guilt. 

“Fine. If you insist on hurting me more—”

“No. I don’t--I wasn’t--That was never my goal, I swear it.” For the first time since the day you met him, Echo’s tripping over his own words. 

“Then what was your goal, Echo?” You shake your head, “What was the point? Did you think I would just never find out?”

“Do you remember the day we met?”

“...What?”

“It was sunny,” Echo continues, “You were babysitting your nephew, so you were both wearing tooka ears, and he was running around collecting pretty shells—”

“I remember you wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Couldn’t talk to you.” He corrects, “I was--force, do you even know how stunning you looked at that moment? I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t say anything. I was struck speechless.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Echo takes a half step towards you, and this time you don’t back away, “Whether you believe me or not, it’s the truth. And, I’m a confident guy, cyare, but the idea of talking to you when I look like…well, this.” He gestures to his body, “I couldn’t do it.”

You sigh softly, “You look fine, Echo.”

“I had a crush on you, which is embarrassing for a man my age, but I was too much of a coward to do something about it.” He says quickly, “So Crosshair and the others dared me to ask you out.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt less, Echo.” You say quietly.

“I know.” He inches a little closer to you, and you wince when his hand presses lightly against your cheek, “I meant to tell you. I really did.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Honestly, I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

“That…sounds bad.” He cautiously settles his scomp on your hip, “When I’m with you, the only thing I’m thinking about is you. And then I get home and I remember that I still haven’t told you about the dare, and the next thing I know six months have passed, and I still haven’t told you—” He trails off, “I’m sorry, cyare.”

You sigh softly, “You really hurt me, Echo.”

“I know.”

“I felt like I was a joke.”

“You’re not! You could never be.” Echo says quickly, “I love you, you’re everything to me.” He hesitates, “Can you forgive me?”

“...if you ever make me feel like this again, we’re done.”

“Oh, thank kriff.” He drops his forehead to your shoulder, “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m not happy with you right now, Echo.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He pulls back and searches your face, “You still love me, though?”

“Yeah. I still love you.”

His forehead falls back to your shoulder, and his arms snake around you to hold you tight. “Good. That’s good.”

You don’t move for a moment, and then you lightly wrap your arms around him and stroke his back, causing him to almost melt into you. It seems like he was genuinely worried that he lost you because of this.

And maybe you’re an idiot for forgiving him. Maybe you’re a love-sick fool for taking him at his word. But you can’t help it. You love him and you trust him.

“Echo?”

“Hm?”

“Can we get pasta for dinner?”

He releases a slightly shaky laugh, “Whatever you want, cyare.”

@heidnspeak

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@liz-stat

[shoyodon]

Newlywed husband! Katsuki who thinks tattoos are “so fuckin’ stupid.” Says its a waste of money just to put toxins in your bloodstream.

Newlywed husband! Katsuki who rolls his eyes with a huff and mutters a quiet: “Don’t come complainin’ to me when you regret it.” Under his breath after you ramble on about interesting designs you saw online.

Newlywed husband! Katsuki who, as much as he hates tattoos, has an equal if not vastly greater amount of love for his engagement/wedding band. Deep black obsidian band with a ruby red strip running around the center. He scoffed when you handed it to him after the two of you got engaged, told him you got it made specifically for him and said that it reminded you of his eyes. His huffing and puffing was a poorly disguised attempt at not letting the sentimentality make his heart race. You could tell he loved it by the red tinge on the tips of his ears that matched his band.

Newlywed husband! Katsuki who gets into a scuffle at work while on patrol. The villain had managed to catch him off guard, and when he lifted his hands to shield himself temporarily they had managed to slice through one of his gauntlets like nothing. The surprise attack was all the leverage they had on him, though. Once he got his bearings it was over in an instant.

Newlywed husband! Katsuki who reluctantly is pulled into an ambulance; his left arm and hand cut up badly from the attack. He sat on the stretcher with a bitter look on his face, not caring that his fingers nearly were cut off and were getting stitched up frantically by one of the paramedics, all he cared about was the bent, misshapen ring clenched in his other palm, which had to be cut off of his finger due to the injury.

Newlywed husband! Katsuki who denies it vehemently when you ask him if the bad attitude hes had for the past few days is because his ring was ruined, claiming hes “not that sentimental.” but you still see how he keeps the bent piece on his bedside, and how he stays up late at night looking into places he can trust enough to repair it.

Newlywed husband! Katsuki who, amongst watching various tiktoks of people repairing rings on his fyp, discovers someone tattooing their partners initials on their ring finger in lieu of a wedding band.

Newlywed husband! Katsuki who shows up home just a day after his doctor said his hand was completely healed with fresh ink on his ring finger. Your initials permanently engraved on his skin. His first and only tattoo.

-

(Newlywed husband! Katsuki who shrugs, claiming its “safer than having the ring nearly cut my damn finger off,” but still leaps at you when you surprise him with his ring, freshly repaired, on a chain that he can wear under his hero costume.)

((Husband! Katsuki who never removes the chain from around his neck no matter the circumstance, and subtly shows off his tattoo any chance he gets; what could be better than one way to show off that he has the best spouse a man could ask for waiting for him at home? Two!))

[monstersholygrail]

In a Free Use City, there are two ways you can get promoted. You can put in the hard work by taking on extra responsibilities, going longer hours, and putting in the initiative. Or… you can sleep your way to the top. In a Free Use City, sleeping your way to the top isn’t frowned upon but instead highly encouraged. Especially by your bosses.

While everyone tries to sleep their way to the top, you’d be surprised to know that most people get promoted through hard work. Because… In a Free Use City, sleeping your way to the top is actually harder to achieve than putting in the work of the job.

When you decide to sleep your way to the top, you are heavily surveyed and judged based on your ability and skill of fucking and pleasing your bosses. The committee that makes the decision all must be pleased with your individual performances.

Even lost in the throes of pleasure, they remain focused on how well your pretty lips looked wrapped around their thick cocks, how deep you can take them down your throat, how much you can hallow your cheeks and swirl your tongue around their lengths. They count how long they can deep throat you and the amount of time it takes before your tears are dripping down to their heavy balls. Some count more tears as a positive while others consider it a negative.

The next part of the evaluation has them slowly moving down to your holes. They evaluate how turned on you got just from sucking them off. Similarly, some wanna see you leaking buckets while others wanna prep you themselves. They dip their fingers inside of you, teasing you just right. Analyzing how tight you are and how tight you can clench around them.

But they don’t take the time to stretch you. No, that would be cheating on the evaluation form. They need to know how well you can naturally take their fat cocks down your tight core. Some of them give you more points the more you arch and writhe as your body accommodates their girth while others remove points for not just taking it like a good whore.

As they finally properly fuck you, their analytical gaze never wavers. Evaluating your stamina and how quick you bring them to the brink of an orgasm. They have you ride them so they can see your entire body as you bounce on their cocks. So that they can see how deep they’re taking you, their cocks creating a nice pretty bulge in your belly with each brutal thrust. Even the way you cum around their cocks is evaluated and processed in the promotion consideration.

Very few workers meet all the requirements and surpass the points needed to fuck their way to the top. But you don’t care about the odds, you don’t even care all that much about the promotion. You just really wanna fuck all your bosses.

And you end up being the highest scored employee in the history of their company… Congratulations, you’ve just been promoted.

[allllium]

Jason's love language is 100% touch

I don't care what anyone says I know this man has been craving a nice cuddle under a warm blanket for so long

At first he'll put firm boundaries in place, asking you not to touch him in any intimate way, not unless he initiates it

Which makes total sense considering everything he's been through, all the scars on his body that makes him sick to touch

But over time, surprisingly not a long time, he warms up to your touch and even finds himself craving it

It starts small with an arm around your waist and a warm hand placed in yours, but it quickly turns more intimate

Something he never thought he'd have is suddenly there whenever he wants and he doesn't know how to feel about it

He gets more comfortable with things he never thought would be so nice

He lays his head in your lap as you lay on the couch watching TV, showing a kind of vulnerability neither of you ever expected

He starts sleeping without his shirt on and continuously pulls you closer to him

He almost always has a hand on you now

Now that he's comfortable he's not even gonna think twice before keeping his arm around you or laying his hand comfortably on your thigh

He can't even begin to understand why he feels the happiest he's ever been when you do something as simple as playing with his hair or placing your lips to one of his many scars

Safe to say once he gets to this stage, there's no way to go back

p.s he will totally pout the entire day if you lean away from his touch

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[no-144444]

new meetings- o.piastri

summary: oscar is terrified for you to meet his family, funnily enough, you already know a few of them...

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! famous! reader

a/n: PRAYING FOR AN OP81 WIN TOMORROW

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Mae was a very convincing person when she wanted to be, and being her big brother, Oscar genuinely wanted to give her whatever she wanted. But meeting you? That was something he was dreading. 

He’d made the mistake of leaving his phone on the counter unlocked when he was making dinner, and she saw your messages in his phone. What followed was a very awkward explanation that you two had been seeing each other for the past few months, but he wasn’t going to introduce you to his family yet, he just… wasn’t ready. Which was fair. But Nicole protested, and so did all of his sisters, so he had no choice but to offer you a paddock pass for Australia, and hope you were busy. 

You weren’t. And you were much too supportive of him to not attend. So he was, in simple terms, fucked. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

“You can’t be weird,” he sighed as he walked his sisters through the paddock. “Just be… normal.” 

“We are being normal, you’re the one sweating right now,” Hattie chuckled. 

Oscar pulled at the collar of his team kit, and genuinely prayed hiss otters wouldn’t be so awkward with you. He didn’t want to scare you off. 

“Come on Osc, we’re cool!” Tim chuckled, clapping a hand on his back. “Jesus, you are sweaty,” he mumbled as he wiped his hand on his shorts. 

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You sat with Alex Dunne, one of the development drivers who was in F2, just chatting casually. 

“Osc, hey,” you smiled easily, wrapping your arms around his neck, then grimacing. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, but his voice was much too high, and his grip on your waist was much too tight. You raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry about what’s going to happen now,” he whispered and kissed your cheek. 

You turned your head and saw his family, but also your great Pilates buddy, Nicole. Your jaw dropped as hers did at the same time. “Nicole? Shut up!” You clapped a hand over your mouth, a soft laugh coming out. She walked up to you and wrapped her arms around you in a gentle hug. “How are you?” You asked, hugging her back. 

Oscar looked between the two of you, shocked. 

“I’m great! How are you sweetheart?” She asked, looking you over. “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled brightly. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” you smiled. 

She pulled you in again. “When are you coming back to Pilates?” She begged and you giggled. 

“Soon, I promise. I just finished filming in Toronto so I’m back in Australia for the foreseeable, lest Oscar needs my support at races,” you beamed, looking at him with all the pride in the world. His face was contorted into one of confusion and mild disgust? You stared at him and cupped his cheek, curious. “What’s wrong?”

“You know my mum?” He questioned. 

“Of course I do,” you shrugged. “We do Pilates together.”

Again, he was perplexed about the fact neither of you had mentioned it. “I know I’m bad at telling people things, but this is next level.”

Nicole scoffed. “Who didn’t tell me they were extending their contract?” 

He was pretty quiet after that. 

“I’m Mae!” She interjected, walking up beside you and Nicole. “I’m a huge fan.”

Oscar face-planted. So cool. 

“Nice to meet you Mae, I’m Y/n,” you smiled, pulling her in for a hug. 

“I’m Hattie,” she smiled, greeting you. “I got you this,” she handed you a sticker of Oscar as a sonny angel. You gasped, taking it from her hand. 

“I love it!” You beamed. “It’s so cute, thank you so much!”

Never did Oscar ever think he’d see himself as a sonny angel, but he did know it was right up your alley, and some of the anxiety in his chest eased as he watched you effortlessly mix with his family. 

“I’m Tim,” he stepped forward. 

“Fuck off Tim,” you chuckled, pulling him into a hug. “How are you?”

Oscar was once again confused. 

“I'm great, Bug, thank you,” he smiled. “How are you?”

“Bug?” Oscar commented, but it was drowned out by the conversation flowing freely, Eddie joining in. 

He watched for about 30 minutes with a bright smile on his face as you mixed in perfectly with his family. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

His hands trailing up your shirt, exposing skin as the sun set outside the window. The way his lips were moving against yours, the way his hands felt on your body, the way he reacted to the things you were doing. He was addictive. 

“How do you know my stepdad?” Oscar questioned as he pulled back from kissing you. You looked up at him, unimpressed. You propped yourself up on your elbows. 

“You think about Tim when we’re making out?” You questioned and the look on his face was enough to tell you he didn’t. You chuckled. “I’ve worked with him before.”

“Where?”

“On a film,” you explained. “When I was really young.”

He nodded, and lay beside you. “How didn’t I know this?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, Ithink I would’ve mentioned it if I thought it was important.”

“And you know my mum?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded and kissed his cheek, trying to get him back into the mood. “Pilates.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you lay on top of him, pressing kisses to his neck. “And I didn’t know this?”

“Evidently not,” you smirked. “Did you feel the need to?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. “I was just so…-”

“Nervous? For today?” You stifled a laugh. He shot you a dirty look and you chuckled. “I didn’t notice, actually.” 

He huffed and nodded. “It was pretty obvious,” he sighed, burying his head in your neck. “I don’t know, maybe I would’ve just… been a little less stressed if I knew you knew them already,” he shrugged. “I just… maybe wouldn’t have been so-”

“Anal?” You offered. “Militarial?”

“Worried,” he finished for himself as he shot you yet another dirty look, making you laugh, yet again. 

“Why would you be worried?” You questioned, cupping his cheeks. “I love you.”

He rolled his eyes, trying to stop his heart beat from racing and attempting to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “I love you too,” he admitted. “But I’m afraid I’m going to scare you away.” 

You stared at him with a raised eyebrow, and sat up (aka you straddled him which meant this conversation was going to be a lot harder to keep his mind on. Also, harder- did you see what I did there 😝). “Why would you scare me away?” You gently pulled a hand through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I don’t have a regular job, I’m weirdly famous, I drive very dangerous cars, I’m extremely awkward at all of your events, I’m-“ 

“I love you, Osc. Anything you say won’t change that,” you shook your head. “I love you.”

It hit him deep in the chest, so much he was sure it would’ve made him double over, had he been standing. A soft smile crept its way onto his face and he pulled you down to kiss him again. Your hands traveled under his shirt, and the kiss was back. 

“I love you too,” he mumbled against your lips. You pulled back and tried not to notice how beautiful you looked with swollen lips and smushed lipstick, but it was pretty hard not to. “So fucking much.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[kacchans-waifu]

mornings with katsuki are pretty mundane, to say the least.

he’s a morning person. you were not. the both of you knew that from the day you started dating.

as a morning person, he always has an early morning alarm on the days he has work. rarely is it any time close to when he has to clock in. he’ll try to turn his alarm off as quickly as possible as to not wake you, and it almost never works. as he shifts in bed, you stir awake.

“sorry,” he mumbles as he carefully raises himself out of bed.

you stay in bed while he starts getting ready for his morning workout. the streets are pretty empty around this time, so he’ll just take a run around the neighborhood. he takes a shower when he comes back and starts on breakfast.

it’s at this point you start to get out of bed, lured into the kitchen by the sound of food sizzling. you come to find katsuki standing in front of the stove, topless.

“good morning,” you greet, half asleep.

“morning. you hungry?”

“yeah…” from behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his back. “you should always walk around like this.”

katsuki chuckles. “you think so?” you hum in response. he finds you so cute when you’re barely awake. well, he always finds you cute. “go sit down, I’m almost done.”

you obey and in a matter of minutes are presented a fabulous plate of food. you thank him and he places a kiss on your temple as a silent “your welcome.” he then ruffles you hair and tells you to “wake your ass up.”

mornings with katsuki are pretty mundane, but never are they not sweet.

[indulgentdaydream]

headcanons with attractive things jason does 😭🫶

anon i have GOT YOU

When he sits on a couch, no matter if you’re on too or not, that man is SPREAD

Arms wide and resting on the back of the couch. Manspreading his thighs wide open. A relaxed expression on his face. Maybe a book in hand.

When moving in for a kiss, he cups your face with his left hand first. Then strokes his thumb on your cheek twice while actually kissing you.

Every. Single. Time. Doesn’t matter where or when. If it’s just a peck or y’all are making out, that’s what he starts it with.

Kisses on the back of your neck if he’s walking past you and you’re looking down.

Also will keep his hands resting on your hips if standing behind you.

He’ll swear UP AND DOWN that he means nothing by it. That it’s just a habit. But will keep a hand on your thigh while driving a car. Not even sexual. Just comforting.

Opening doors for you and guiding you through with a hand on the small of your back

You’re both sleeping in the same bed? He’s dead asleep. Usually isn’t. But with you, for sure he is.

And if you slip out of his reach while he is dead asleep, he’s reaching out and dragging you back like a lost teddy bear. And he’s asleep the whole time

When you’re out eating or at a bar and he’s getting a bit anxious with all the people around, he’ll play footsies with you under the table

Got so intense once he accidentally knocked the table over and you two got kicked out

This man LAUGHS

No one talks about how Jason’s laugh (may have a fic in the works about it. I’ll finish it if y’all ask)

I’m not talking “he chuckled” or “he grinned” or “his shoulders shook with silent laughter”

I’m talking about how this man tosses his head back before leaning forward, clutching his stomach with one hand, the other reaching for some part of you to grasp as you laugh along with him. How his laughter is deep and BOOMING. It takes up a whole room. Echoes across the street. Enters your ears and melts into your blood stream and goes immediately to your heart which picks up its beating to make sure to get it to the rest of your body. How he straightens up again, his face split in a grin, eyes opening again while he has to wipe away tears of laughter, his body still shaking with it.

I want to make jason todd genuinely laugh and if the sound makes me go deaf then so be it because at least i was able to hear the most beautiful sound in the universe

I’m sorry this got off topic but

He wears glasses when he reads and that’s hot too i guess

[the-raindeer-king]

The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

That's how the saying goes. You never realized just how true it was until you started working as Captain John Price's assistant. It had started off innocently enough, bringing him a tea or coffee when he asked. Maybe scolding him whenever you found out he skipped lunch.

You had been baking brownies, trying out a new recipe, and you just needed someone to taste them (and maybe help you get rid of the batch if need be). So, you brought them to work, left them in a pretty box on Price's desk when you dropped off his coffee.

You certainly hadn't expected the rest of the task force to come around to your desk, begging to know why you didn't bring any for them. Turn out that not only did Price brag out your baking skills, he's refusing to share with the rest of the task force, despite the fact you had brought more than enough for all of them.

Looks like you're going to have to make more.

[limyted]

“You Called My Liege?”

Yandere King x Jester! GN Reader

Tw: Dubcon/non-con,, obsessive,, possessive,, controlling,, NSFW.,, ALL CHARACTERS 18+ PLEASE.

Words: 1.6k words

Yandere Prince! Who had first seen you when you had walked in with you dad, your family had been a family of Jesters for the Royal Family for centuries for now.

Yandere Prince! Who met you when his father has introduced you two to each other, explaining that you will be his Jester when he is the future King, with that a bond had started to grow between you too.

Yandere Prince! Who has always been blunt, stoic and short tempered, but when being around your cheeky and playful personality and eventually his stiff personality melts away and welcomes you, soon enough you two would play around places around the Palace whenever your dad was called upon by his father.

Yandere Prince! Who killed his father when he had suggested that he was just maybe too close with his Jester, that it was inappropriate to be friends with his Jester. Who did his father think he was telling him what to do with HIS Jester?

He dropped the blooded sword, as he kicked the former king's head away from him.

“Clean this up.” he lazily gazed into the dreary eyes of his father, his voice devoid of any guilt or remorse.

“Burn the body and fetch me my jester.” A small smile spreading across his features at the thought of you as he pushed past the stunned maids who hurriedly obeyed, they wouldn't want face the wrath of the kings short temper.

Yandere Prince! Who has you by his side the whole coronation, and he gets a thrill when you called him “My Liege” for the first time.

Your skin warm from laying on grass, sun blazing on your skin, hands intertwined with the teenage future king, he was squeezing your hand as if trying to keep you from running away from him, but you decided not to pay it any mind.

You felt a slight tug, and you hummed softly.

“I don't wanna marry someone I don't know or even love,” He said, frustration and exasperation laced in his voice “but my father insisted it was a necessity for the economy of our kingdom.”

“If it's an economic boost you need, why not hold a royal jousting tournament?” You said softly chuckling at your own joke “Loser buys dinner... or a bride”

He looked at you deadpanned, you softly rolled your eyes.

“Who would you even marry?” You teased him softly “I don't know of anyone you fancy.”

“Are you sure?” He questioned, as he put his hand on your chin tilting it to face him. “But to answer your question, My fool, you would be my bride.”

You weren't really sure if the king was joking or not, so you had changed the subject instead.

As you walked down the halls of the Jesters towers, the king had requested for you the usual spot, the throne room, a room you've grown very accustomed to.

The door to the room had no guards protecting it, so you had entered. There sat the king on his righteous throne, his hand resting in his chin and legs crossed, clearly in deep thought.

“You called My Liege?” You said as you bowed, dipping low and a playful smile on your face. The king who's eyes now locked with yours, had merely patted the arm rail of his throne, you obliged.

“Tell me..” he says as he snakes his arm loosely around your waist, shifting in his seat to be closer with you.

You hummed lightly, it wasn't weird that the king was being so … affectionate, he'd always wanted to be close with you.

“Do you recall when I told you that I would make you my bride?” He asked, with a tone unrecognisable to you.

“Oh your little quip?” You answered, focusing on his thumb rubbing your waist slowly, his hand slowly making its way down.

He let out a lifeless, breathy snicker, “I do not jest, that is your job.”

!!Nsfw!!

He lifts you up, placing you on his lap, rocking you back and forth, you can feel his hardened cock against your entrance.

“But if you're going to be my bride, I need everyone to know you’re mine.” He said as he digs his hands into your waist.

“I think it's better to marry someone who..” You pause, as you try to squirm off his lap, but he holds you down, “Is more equipped to be a monarch.”

“You'd make a perfect spouse for me” He says as kisses and bites your neck, as he rips your clothes off your body, the cold air hitting your skin, makes you shiver.

You let out a soft gasp at the feeling of him biting your neck. “I'm gonna have to stretch you out,” He says as pushes two fingers into and you gasp loudly, pushing yourself against his chest.

With every sweet sound you let out he can feel his cock and precum coating his undergarments, he pumps his fingers roughly.

“Wow, you must really want to be filled, your greedy hole is taking my fingers so well,” He says as he picks up the pace of his fingers “has someone ever pleasured you so well?”

You already feel your climax close, but he pulls his fingers out “You don't release unless I tell you too, My Fool.”

You whine at the emptiness that fills you now. “Stand.” Nothing but hunger in voice, afraid you obey, you had seen what he was capable of with his sword.

He took off his clothing as you, his long and hard cock, throbbing and the tip glistening with precum.

He had grabbed you and bent you over the very same arm rail you sat on, he slowly pushed himself into your hole, grabbing a handful of your ass and giving it a hard slap, his hands travelling from your ass to your hip, letting out a loud groan.

“Oh fuck, you feel just right, your hole wraps around me so perfectly” he said with a dreamy like voice.

“What about the maids and butlers, I don't wanna be seen in this case” you said trying to bite back the moans that are bubbling in your throat.

“If they even dare to look, I'll kill them, your body is only for my eyes,” He says, thrusting deeply into you at every word he says, unable to keep your moans anymore, you let out loud moans that fill the room and his groans as well.

With each deep thrust you feel your climax closing in, and you can tell he is too with his fastened pace and his balls slapping your skin.

“Please cum with me, please, please, please” he whines and pants as he trails his hands up your back and pulls you as you both release, you relax as his semen feels warm.

The King picks you up, his hard cock still twitching inside you, and puts you on the throne.

“I'm not finished, My Darling.”

[vodika-vibes]

Hello Vodika!

I don't know if you accept requests, but I would like to make one request. Could I have a request regarding our Commanders (Cody, Wolffe, Fox, Bly, Ponds, Gree, Neyo and Bacara) where they will seen their S/O in 79's dressed in their battalion colors? I wonder how the boys will react to this. 😉😏

I greet you warmly and wish you all the best in your life! ❤

His Colors

Pairings: Commander Cody x Reader, Commander Wolffe x Reader, Commander Fox x Reader, Commander Bly x Reader, Commander Neyo x Reader

Word Count: 2041 in total

Warnings: Some suggestive comments and actions

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: hi there! I do always accept requests, so thank you very much for yours! I made the choice to only pick five Commanders of the ones you listed since I felt like it was going to get repetitive (and I don't know Ponds or Gree all that well).

Commander Cody x Reader - Orange at 79s

Cody’s mouth goes dry when he sees her.

She’s clad in a tight dress. It's tight enough that Cody’s not actually sure how she’s breathing, let alone walking. 

And it’s orange.

The same shade of orange that decorates the front of his armor. 

She sees him, and a blinding smile crosses her face, as she waves at him. He watches her say something to her friend, and then she hurries over to him and flings herself into his arms, “Cody!”

“Cyare,” His voice is slightly hoarse, “You look—” He trails off, not having the right words to describe her look.

Her smile brightens, “You like?”

Cody’s hands settle, tightly, on her hips, pulling her flush against him. He’s still dressed in his armor and, for the first time, he wishes he had something a little more casual to wear.

Her smile, somehow, brightens even more. “Good. I bought it for you to enjoy.”

“Yeah?”

She leans in so her painted lips hover over his ear, “My lingerie matches.” She whispers.

Cody is pretty sure that her comment just broke something in his brain, because the only thing he can think of, now, is pale orange lingerie against her pretty skin.

“Why would you tell me that?” He asks, “Now I can’t think of anything else,”

She laughs, and Cody’s heart swells, “Good. Now I’m sure I’ll be able to keep your attention.”

Commander Wolffe x GN!Reader - Grey at the Park

You’re late. You’re very late. 

It’s not your fault that there was an accident right outside your work, and you were stuck waiting for the traffic police to clean up the mess before you could leave.

But you’re still late.

You didn’t even have time to change. You’re still wearing your boring, grey scrubs. You went and bought a very nice outfit for your date with Wolffe.

And now you aren’t even going to be able to wear it.

It’s enough to make you want to cry.

Hopefully, Wolffe will still be waiting for you. He said he would, but you were supposed to meet an hour ago.

You wouldn’t blame him in the slightest for leaving.

You hurry into the park, heading straight for the meeting point. The meeting point is the bench near the fountain, the bench where you met him for the first time.

And he’s still there. A datapad in his hand, his gaze locked on the small device. You slow from your quick walk as you approach him. He really is so handsome.

He must have a sixth sense devoted to noticing people staring at him, though, because he lifts his gaze and meets yours. You watch as his gaze flickers down to your outfit, and you feel a surge of self-consciousness. 

Scrubs aren’t designed to look flattering on anyone, after all.

You nervously smooth your hand down the front of your scrubs as he stands and walks over to you, an unusual smile on his handsome face. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” You start, “I didn’t even have time to go home and change. I bought an outfit that’s more attractive than—”

You stop when his hand presses against your cheek, and he leans in to catch your lips with his.

He breaks the kiss and you stare up at him in confusion. And then you realize that your scrubs are the same color as the grey on his armor.

“You look really good in my colors, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, “How about, instead of going to dinner, we go back to your place, and I show you just how good I think you look.”

And your face burns with flustered embarrassment.

You suppose he likes it.

Commander Fox x GN!Reader - Red in the Senate Archives

Fox sighs as he folds his arms as he scans the archives.

It’s empty. Of course, it is. No one comes to the archives unless they need something.

He impatiently drums his fingers on his vambrace, seriously considering leaving. He has work to do, he shouldn’t have to wait for them to show up to do their job.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m here!” Fox turns when he hears a familiar voice and the, even more, familiar sound of heavy boots on the tiled floor. He’s not able to smother his smile when they come to a stop in front of him.

“You’re late, little bird.” Fox chides, though there’s no heat in his voice as he looks them over. They ran here from the lifts, obviously, there’s sweat on their brow and their short hair is plastered to their forehead.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. The Chancellor needed me to deliver something to Senator Organa,” They gasp out, pressing their hand over their heart. 

“You need to work out more.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

They scowl at him, and then unzip their jacket and toss it over the back of a chair, “I’m in perfect health, thank you.”

Fox’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the shirt that they’re wearing. It’s silky, and sheer in some places. And the same color as his armor.

His little bird is wearing his colors.

Fox steps closer to them, absently tossing his gloves on the table as well, before he lightly catches the hem of the, surprisingly delicate, shirt. “What’s this?” He breathes out.

They turn so they’re facing Fox, “I bought a new shirt at lunchtime.” Their smile becomes playfully innocent, “Do you like it?”

Fox steps closer to them, his free hand sliding to the back of their neck, “Where’s the archivist?”

“Went home. It’s after closing time,” They reply.

Fox hums thoughtfully, and the hand that was lightly gripping the hem of their shirt moves to the topmost button, unfastening it. And then it slowly moves down the front of their shirt.

“Fox—”

“Well, since we’re alone,” Fox murmurs, as he leans in to hover his lips over theirs and slowly continues to unbutton their shirt, “How about you sing me a song, little bird?”

His comment is rewarded with a delighted giggle, and Fox leans in to seal his lips over theirs. 

His little bird wearing red is just not fair, really.

Commander Bly x F!Reader - Yellow at sunset

Bly’s not sure what he did to deserve the attention of someone as amazing as her. Especially since everyone and their cousin seems to think that he has a thing for his general.

Hell, even his girl thought that he had a thing for his general.

It had been a hassle trying to convince her differently. Luckily, General Secura had been more than happy to talk to her. And tell her all about her amazing girlfriend.

In any event, the conversation had been enough that she said yes when Bly asked her out. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Doesn’t mean that he understands why she wants him, of all men. But he’s not going to question it.

“Bly?”

Her voice, soft and musical, causes him to whip his head around, a broad smile already crossing his face.

And there she is.

Standing several feet away from him, her pretty hair pulled into a loose braid over one of her shoulders, her painted lips spread into a warm smile.

And clad in a dress in his colors.

That, and the way that the setting sun paints her in golds and oranges, Bly finds himself at a loss for words. 

Well, not really.

Only his words are all things like, “Marry me,” and “I love you”. Silly little comments like that.

Absently she plays with her braid, “Well, how do I look?” She asks shyly, “I know I don’t usually wear yellow—”

“You could wear a trash bag and still be the most stunning woman on any planet,” Bly says, once he manages to find his tongue.

She giggles, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

If Bly ever has the displeasure of meeting the person who told her that her smile is weird-looking, he’s going to introduce them to his hunting knife. But he quickly shoves the thought to the side so he’s able to hurry to her side.

She smiles up at him as he stops in front of her, “You really like it?”

“I love it. You look amazing in my colors, you should wear them more often.” Bly lightly takes her hand in his and twirls her, pulling a startled laugh from her lips.

“Bly!”

“I just need to see from all angles,” He teases, as he twirls her again, the hem of her skirt flaring out, and twisting around her legs. “Yeah,” Bly breathes out, “You look perfect.”

“Thank you.”

He sets his free hand on her hip, “Dance with me?”

She averts her gaze, shyly. But there’s a smile on her lips as she nods. “As if you have to ask?”

Commander Neyo x F!Reader - Burgundy at the Winery

You smile politely at the sommelier as he approaches you. You offer him Neyo’s name and mention that he should already be here, and the older man smiles kindly, “He’s sitting in the back. Follow me.”

This isn’t your first date with Neyo, you’ve been dating for well over a year at this point, but he’s been deployed for the last six months, and this is your first proper date since the war ended.

As much as you’d like him to move in with you, Neyo refuses. Claiming that you’ve only been dating for six months and that more time is needed to determine if the pair of you are a good fit.

He’s not wrong, of course.

But he’s been your pick since the first day you met him. It’s disheartening to think that he doesn’t feel the same way.

You take a deep breath and smooth the velvety material of your burgundy dress. It’s new, and it might, very well, be the most expensive thing that you own. You had it specially made to match the burgundy of Neyo’s armor.

Hopefully, he’ll like it.

Hopefully, he still likes you.

You see Neyo before he sees you. He’s wearing a dark burgundy button-up shirt and some nice slacks. If you had to guess, the top two buttons probably aren’t buttoned, because that’s the kind of man he is.

He’s nursing a glass of wine.

You feel your heart clench. You really do love him more than life itself. You hope he knows that.

You can tell when Neyo sees you.

While your handsome Commander would never slouch, he was sitting casually. And the moment he sees you, he straightens in his seat. As you approach, you see his gaze dart down your body, and you see his severe mein fade into something more welcoming.

Well, welcoming for him, at least.

Neyo stands as you stop by his table, “Cyare,” He lightly takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. Now that you’re closer you can see just how much he appreciates how you look right now. “You look beautiful,”

You smile at him, all warmth and affection, and you watch as something soft creeps into his gaze, “Well, I wasn’t trying to match with you, but we do make quite a striking pair, I think.”

He chuckles and brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, “Well, we certainly look better than some of the people here,” He agrees, and then his gaze sweeps down your body again, and something like hunger slides into his gaze, “I’ll just have to behave myself until we’re alone.”

You tilt your head, questioningly.

“Ah, cyar’ika,” Heat runs down your spine at the molten way he says his pet name for you, “You’re wearing my colors. You didn’t expect me to not react, did you?”

A small smile lifts your lips, “Well, that’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?”

Neyo’s grin is small and secretive, but he lightly releases your hand and pulls out the chair next to him, “Your chair, cyare.”

“Well, thank you, Commander.” You sink into the seat and have to muffle your giggle as he sweeps your hair off your neck to press a lingering kiss against your neck. Tonight is going to be fun.

[pinkmelodie]

sukunas need to be around you‪‪

⊹₊⟡⋆ In which you confront him about his little habit again, and he finally admits to it.

Getting the Sukuna Ryomen to admit that he had a tendency he couldn’t control was a strong feat, but your victory was short-lived. cause just as easily as Sukuna shed an old habit, he formed a brand new one.

This new habit? He had to be in the same room as you at all times. Doesn’t matter where, doesn’t matter when, you’ll always turn to see Sukuna lurking somewhere nearby.

And yet as soon as you spot him he’d look away, clearly still butt-hurt you’d teased his little (huge) staring problem. Acting as if it was your fault he had to stop, and not because of his massive ego.

whether you minded him following you around like a stray dog or not didn’t matter since he had no intention of stopping. In his logic, you couldn’t point it out if you had no proof it was happening!

There were times where he did make his presence purposefully obvious, but only when he could play it off as having nothing to do with you—always denying your claims.

“tch, following you? Don’t kid yourself, I’m simply admiring my gardens.” he claimed, but flushed and stormed off when you questioned why he had to walk right beside you to do so.

Painting? Screw that flower pot, he’s a much better muse.

You’re trying to shower in peace? Make room, suddenly he’s filthy.

Catching up with friends? He’s lurking in the background, pretending to be busy as if his holes-in-newspaper type setup could really fool you.

It’s a kind of clingy you don't understand, especially since he continues the act of being annoyed with you as if he isn’t making you play a daily game of Where’s-Waldo.

And it wasn't an overbearing presence, just a confusing one. since every time you'd spot him (which was nearly every time, he had the stealth of a bull equipped with a foghorn.), he would flee like you were the strange one.

Now Sukuna trying to hide his massive form was like a bear attempting to hide behind a lamp post. He was obvious, and you knew the humiliation of it was killing him, so you granted him the gift of pretending not to notice.

Just like with the staring, you quickly got used to this little quirk of his and embraced it. It confused you that he tried to hide, since he knew just how much you enjoyed being around him, but you shrugged it off as Sukuna just being Sukuna.

Little did you know, he was secretly worried you'd point it out like you had his incessant staring, and out of pure overbearing embarrassment and pride he'd be forced to stop his favourite pastime ‹/𝟹.

a/n: yes I did make the header and I’m think I’m so funny 😋 pls leave a comment if you enjoyed or want more Sukuna !! Thank you ❤︎

pt.1 : his staring problem <3 pt.3 :can’t beat em? join em!

[monstersholygrail]

very classic but summoning a demon to fuck you and he gets a little obsessed 🙏

Imagine Himbo Demon was one day just casually going about his business, torturing a mortal with the agonizing act of small talk when suddenly a flash of white explodes across his vision. The next thing he knows he’s standing in a magical circle of your own design and he can’t get out.

You ask if he’s an incubus and that’s when he notices the book in your hand, ‘How to Summon Incubi With Your Friends: The Party Guide.’ He also looks you over and notices how painstakingly pretty you are and thinks… he could be an incubus.

That night he has what he claims as the best sex of his eternal life, no doubt about it. The way your body moved as you rode him within an inch of his life made him swear he was being taken back to heaven. The way you tasted sweeter than the finest nectar till it burned permanently into his senses. Every last bit of you was addicting.

When the summoning spell’s time was coming to a close, the demon actually felt an ache at the idea of leaving you and your sweet, sweet holes. He tried to reach for you once more but with a flash of white he was back in hell. His heart and his cock aching for you.

The minute he can he’s scouring hell’s library for the book he saw in your grasp. He reads it like a man possessed, ironically, looking for the spell you must’ve used.

As he’s reading the book, an Incubus just so happens to look over at him. Sensing eyes on him he looks up and their gazes meet. The Incubus reads the cover of the book he has and his eyes widen. He begins slowly inching away from Himbo Demon before turning and quickly rushing off.

Himbo Demon tilts his head, curious as to why the Incubus gave such a reaction. But after a moment of brief confusion, he goes back to reading the book. His eyes brightening as he finds the spell.

That night he clumsily performs the spell. His mind foggy with lust. His cock red, angry, and dripping with precum as he thinks about drowning in your holes, lapping up your essence like it’s the only food he’ll ever need and then fucking you until you’re raw and swollen, only to soothe any pain with his tongue.

Himbo demon growls, reaching down and lazily stroking his cock with one hand and performing the spell with the other. Somehow by a true miracle, it works. He appears back in the same fading circle he appeared in last time. His eyes ignite with feral need and his gaze flickers around the low-lit room before a door opens and you come waltzing in wearing nothing but a towel.

“Miss me, baby?” He snarls in excitement, knowing now he has a way to keep coming back to you.

You yelp, jerking back against the wall in surprise. Not expecting the demon to be here again but you’re not exactly upset about it either. Himbo Demon smiles wickedly, but in truth he’s just so happy to see you! He moves at the speed of lightning and he’s on you in an instant. His tall lithe body caging you in against the wall. You exhale shakily, your body tingling with need and your belly churning with arousal as you glance down at his fat cock bobbing and dribbling with his own arousal.

The scent of you floods Himbo Demon’s senses and he growls, fangs flashing in the moonlight that peaks in from the window. Feeling beyond thrilled that the spell worked. That he can go to you whenever he feels like it now. So long as you keep the summoning circle up, that is. But he’s too focused on your new easy access to even try and realize that.

“Don’t worry, sweet human. I’ve found my way back to you and your glorious body. From now on we shall never be parted and I can properly fuck your weak mortal shell ragged as much as I desire. And there is much… much desire,” Himbo Demon rasps heatedly, looking down at you with a fire in his eyes.

Before you can even think to respond, the demon is shredding your towel into two, revealing your body to him in all its glory. He barely takes the time to appreciate the view and suddenly he’s pressing into, rubbing his length along the height of your belly.

And you know this is the start of a wild adventure. One you’re sure is bound to last more than another night.

[allllium]

Just an Accident

~ Jason todd x reader who was accidentally hurt

~ Fluff, Jason being dramatic, WC:

~ Inspired by @mostly-imagines

[Thank you guys for being so patient while I finished this and thank you for all likes 💓💓 I really wasn't expecting anything till this was finished. Hope this meets your expectations <3]

Jason tried really hard to keep his secret secret from you but let's be honest, he's very obvious about it. Especially once you meet his family.

After he finally came clean to you about everything, he became even more protective. More protective than you ever thought possible.

He would freak out anytime he didn't know where you were or if you got hurt in any way.

"I'm so so sorry." Bruce says, following you through the mansion repeating his apology.

"It's okay, Bruce, it was an accident." You reply, "I should've known."

Honestly there was no way you could've known that Bruce was creating some elaborate booby trap on the kitchen counter that would fail and smack you in the face when you walked into the kitchen.

It didn't hurt too bad, luckily Bruce was testing things with plastic and not the real materials.

From the look of it though, you'll definitely have a mark on your nose and possibly a bruise under your eye.

"I had no idea it was gonna do that." He continues defending, knowing how Jason will react.

"It's fine, I swear. I know you wouldn't do that on purpose." You walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. Bruce sits next to you.

"Can I get you anything?" He asks. Obviously freaking out.

"No, it's alright. It really doesn't hurt."

"Oh shit." You hear Dick gasp. Coming in through the front door with Tim.

"Oh, what did you do!?" Tim asks, "Jason is gonna kill you."

"It was an accident, everything is fine." You try to calm everyone down.

Seeing that you're okay, Dick can't hold back his laugh.

"Wow, Jason is never gonna trust you again Bruce." Tim hits Dick on the arm and rolls his eyes. To the side of you, Bruce leans forward to hold his head in his hands.

"I think you guys are being a little dramatic. Jason isn't gonna kill him."

"No you seriously underestimate how Jason will react to this." Tim tells you.

"Yeah, remember he almost killed me for making jokes about you when you first got together."

"What?" You turn to Dick in confusion, "I don't remember that."

"Not important," he waves it off, "The point is, we need a plan."

"A plan for what?"

"A plan to hide this from Jason" He tells you, in a tone that screams obvious.

"How would I do that, Dick? I live with him."

"I don't know yet, that's why we need a plan!" He exclaims, pacing in front of the couch.

You roll your eyes, "You're being dramatic."

"No he's not." Bruce says. You fall back into the couch and cross your arms over chest.

"Bruce please. I need at least one of other person here to be an adult."

You can hear Tim laughing as he sits in the chair next to the couch.

"Well, he's right. Jason's gonna be pissed." Bruce shakes his head at you. He stands from the couch and starts pacing with Dick.

"They're gonna make me lose my mind." You mumble under your breath. You run your hands over your face, this childish behavior you're watching isn't what you were expecting from Batman and Nightwing.

Okay to be honest you were definitely expecting this from Dick.

Tim leans over to whisper to you, "You should make a break for it, they're too busy plotting to notice you leave."

"Let me guess," you whisper back, "you've had to make a break for it a couple times?"

"More than you know." He shakes him head and has a serious look on his face.

"Well, have fun with that." You laugh and walk out the front door. Tim was right, both the guys were so busy trying to figure out how to hide you from Jason, they totally forgot to hide you.

You rush home to meet Jason. You were supposed to meet for dinner but obviously you got a little distracted.

"Hey baby." You sigh when you walk through the door. Jason is in the kitchen cooking dinner. Whatever he chose to make, made the whole room smell amazing.

"Hey. What took you so long?"

"I stopped by the mansion to borrow that thing from Alfred but he wasn't there." You tell him, referencing some cooking tool you wanted to make desert for after dinner.

"Where did he go?" You want into the kitchen to see him while you talk.

"I have no idea. I got distracted by something Bruce was doing." You walk over and take a piece of food that he's cutting.

Without looking, he softly smacks your hand away.

"Rude." You laugh.

"This is my sacred space." He puts the knife down and gestures over the whole counter.

"You're ridiculous." You laugh again and kiss him on the cheek.

"How dare you." He puts his hand on his chest in fake offense. Only then does he turn to actually look at you. "What happened?" He immediately asks.

"Oh it's fine, just got smacked with some plastic " Which is apparently not the answer he wanted.

"What the fuck does that mean?" He grabs your face gently and examines the marks on your face.

"It means I got hit with some plastic. But it doesn't hurt." You quickly explain, but he doesn't let go of your face or stop freaking out.

"What plastic?"

"Bruce was experimenting with something and it didn't work."

"He did this?" He lets go off your face to run his hands over his own.

"It was accident. He wouldn't hurt me on purpose and you know that."

"I don't care if it was an accident, you're hurt."

"Jason." You say firmly. He's obviously surprised considering you never use his name to address him. "An accident is an accident and you're not gonna hold this against Bruce. He already apologized and clearly felt bad."

"But you're hurt" He pouts.

You step forward and wrap your arms over his shoulders. "It doesn't hurt. It was just some plastic."

"It left a mark."

"I promise I'm okay. And I want you to promise you won't hurt Bruce for this." You look right into his eyes and do your best to give him a puppy dog look. Which isn't necessary because he can't say no to you anyway.

"Fine I promise I won't hurt him." He presses his forehead to yours, "I'd rather leave him to stew in fear anyway."

You chuckle at his words. "As long as no real harm comes to him I won't stop you from having fun."

"Good." He kisses you once and heads back to make dinner. You have no doubt Jason would ever actually hurt Bruce over something so small but you'd rather be safe than sorry.

Hopefully this'll stop Dick and Bruce acting like absolutely children in the future.

Yeah that'll never happen.

Not even 10 minutes after finishing dinner you get a call from Dick.

"How dare you?" He asks the moment you answer the phone. "You're a traitor."

"Again with the dramatics Dick. You can't stop me from going home."

"Let me guess Jason's on his way here to get some revenge right now." He says in a very childish and fearful tone.

"No! I was right, you guys are way more dramatic than you should be and he has no intention of killing anyone." Jason looks at you as you talk to his brother. Clearly wondering what he has to do with this situation.

"I don't believe you. You've shown where your loyalty lies."

"Why are you talking like I'm an enemy or something?"

"Maybe you are! How should I know?"

"Okay you're right." You decide to play along, "I couldn't stop him from wanting to kill Bruce, he's on his way there right now."

Jason furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"I knew it! Mark my words one day-"

His voice cuts off when you hang up.

"There is something severely wrong with your entire family." You tell Jason with a blank face.

"Yeah I know." He puts his arm over your shoulder and pulls you into him.

Hmm you wonder how long it takes till Dick realizes you lied.

[criminalamnesia]

the 141 x reader fic that you did was so yummy!!! pls make them suffer the wrath of reader and make 141 realise how much they need them when they leave,

your work is so amazing btw and your way with words is simply ✨chef’s kiss✨ (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

thank you!! here’s part 3 :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

angry didn’t even begin to describe how you felt as you slammed the door to price’s office behind you.

you were tense, muscles taut and poised to fight. your fists clenched at your sides, blunt nails digging into your palms hard enough to hurt. your jaw was clenched, teeth grinding together as you resisted the urge to march back in there and unleash your fury.

no. not like this. not when you weren’t a hundred percent. not when they would still look at you like you were a wounded doe, stumbling around on broken legs.

in the back of your mind, you can hear that psychologist saying ‘this anger will eat you alive if you let it. you need to let it out somehow.’

you inhaled, unclenched your fists, and made up your mind. you pulled the iv from your arm, wincing at the pinch of the needle.

you left the iv pole standing there as you made your way to the gym.

the gym was empty when you arrived, which made sense for this time of day. many would be occupied by drills or in the mess hall. others would be sleeping off long nights. you had the place to yourself, and you were grateful for the absence of watchful eyes and sweetened tongues.

you were tired of those who knew nothing acting like they knew something. of those who apologized or asked if you were okay. word spread like wildfire around base, and the subject of your ‘betrayal’ had been front-page news since the start of the witch hunt.

the gym door clicked shut behind you, and you surveyed the room. you knew your doctor would have a fit once you returned to the infirmary, and that she probably wouldn’t let you out alone again, but you didn’t really care.

you needed to let off some steam, and the best way you knew how was with your fists. either you start swinging at a bag or at a certain someone’s face. the bag won’t be condescending, and that makes your choice easy.

you approach one of the bright red punching bags in the corner. it’s scratched and taped from where someone had busted it open. scars that didn’t go away, that wouldn’t— just like yours.

you huffed. it didn’t do any good to start feeling sorry for yourself. you hadn’t done anything wrong. your team had.

you stretch your arms out in front of you, fingers interlocking to pop your knuckles. you catch sight of your severed finger, still healing. they’d recovered what had been chopped off, but hadn’t been able to save it.

just another permanent reminder, something to make sure you didn’t dare forget. you didn’t think you ever would regardless.

you shook out your hands and rolled your shoulders back. fists raised, you angled yourself towards the bag. feet spread, shoulders squared, thumb tucked under your fingers instead of inside. a stance that was second nature after years of sparring and hand-to-hand drills.

the bag was firm when your fist connected with it. you would have been lying if you said it didn’t hurt. you punched with the other hand— same results. the time you’d spent confined to an infirmary bed had done a number on you. muscles had atrophied, bones had weakened. the leg you’d suffered a bone-deep cut to shook under your weight.

you didn’t care. you kept punching, your breathing picking up as your emotions guided you. sweat dripped into your eyes and rolled down your back. you felt weak, physically and mentally. you hated feeling this way, and so you punched harder.

“slow down,” a voice grumbled from behind you.

you ignored him, continuing to punch the bag. you hadn’t heard the door open, nor heard the sound of him approaching, but you would have been surprised if you did.

simon always had a penchant for sneaking up on people, intentionally or not.

“gonna pass out if y’don’t stop,” he said after a minute. you could feel his eyes on you. you ignored him again.

you didn’t need to turn around to know he was standing there with his arms crossed, eyes full of something unreadable.

“stop,” he says firmly, and you sense his movement as he surges forward. his hand lands heavily on your shoulder, pulling you back from the punching bag. you heave in a breath before spinning around and punching him in the nose.

simon stumbles back a step, eyes widened slightly. for someone who prided himself on being so observant, he clearly didn’t see that coming. it made you feel the tiniest bit smug that you’d caught him off guard for once.

you dropped your hands to your knees then, squeezing your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washed over you. damn the bastard, he had been right. you shouldn’t have even been in here in the first place, let alone exerted yourself as much as you had.

your hands were shaking as you tried to pull yourself together. you opened your eyes to see drops of blood on the gym floor, by your feet. you had split your knuckles open.

there were also drops of blood at simon’s feet. you looked up then, slowly straightening your posture. he’d removed his mask, his face bare as he stared at you. blood dripped from his nose.

“gonna have to hit harder than that if y’want to break it,” he says, and you narrow your eyes at him.

“did you follow me in here?”

“no.” he says, and you’re giving a mirthless laugh.

“oh, please. im sure price sent you, yeah? you’ve always been his little lap dog. he says ‘jump’ and you say ‘how high,’ isn’t that right, lieutenant?”

your tone is tense, angry. you throw his title in his face, seeing as he’d been so quick to remind you of yours back in price’s office.

simon watches you, and you want to tackle him. he had always been quiet, always stoic. you’d been with him for years, but you still didn’t think you’d broken down all of his walls.

he was so good at masking his thoughts, his feelings. you weren’t. soap had always called you an open book. whenever you were mad or upset, everyone knew it.

no one knew anything about simon unless he wanted them to. it drove you mad then, and it was sure as hell driving you mad now.

“you need to get back to the infirmary,” he tells you. he wipes the back of his hand under his nose, smearing red across his skin. for a moment, you want to chastise him, reach up and wipe the remnants from his face.

you quickly shake that thought from your head. what is it they say— old habits die hard?

these habits would die if you had to strangle each one with your bare hands. anything you harbored for the four men on your team, for the one you’d called yours, was dead and gone.

“fuck off,” you tell him.

“why are you so damn stubborn?” he says then, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him start to crack since everything had happened. emotions are beginning to leak through his stony exterior, whether he means them to or not.

“you don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. none of you do,” you say, and you take a step forward then, eyes blazing as you stare up at him. “not after what you did.”

he doesn’t speak for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. his eyes never leave yours.

“it shouldn’t have happened like that.” he tells you. you scoff.

“like that? you mean the four of you torturing me? tying me up and mutilating me like I was just another fucking target?” your voice was rising as you took another step forward, shoving a finger into his chest.

“if I’d treated you like another target,” he said, tone even. “you would’ve been dead.”

“so you showed me mercy, is that it?” you bared your teeth, a hollow laugh escaping your throat. “oh, thank you simon. I really felt that fucking mercy when you cut off my finger, and when you cut through layers of skin to get to bone.”

you inhaled before continuing. “I should be grateful then, right? is that what you want from me? for me to recognize your fucking ‘mercy’ and take you back? take you all back?”

he just stands there. you can see his jaw clench, but he makes no move to speak. you find it funny that he hasn’t even tried to apologize. john, your ever prideful captain, had swallowed his failure and pleaded for your forgiveness.

johnny and kyle would surely have done the same if they’d had the chance to speak to you, even if they only had a minute.

but simon? simon doesn’t. he doesn’t outwardly admit his wrongs. he doesn’t apologize. doesn’t seem sorry, even. you don’t know what’s going on inside his head, but you find yourself not really caring to know.

the fact that he can’t bring himself to admit, in blunt words, that he had astronomically fucked up and that he felt even the slightest bit of remorse, told you everything you needed to know.

cold, stoic ghost. you hadn’t been afraid of him when you’d first joined the squad, and you weren’t afraid of him now.

but back then, you’d wanted to break down those stone walls of his. you’d wanted to be someone he felt safe around, someone who knew him inside and out.

now, you’re packing your time with him into a box in your mind and dumping it into the trash. simon riley means nothing to you now.

“take your mercy and shove it up your ass,” you tell him. you step back and drop your hand, your eyes still locked on his.

“and by the way,” you say as you start towards the door. he doesn’t turn around, doesn’t move an inch. it’s as if he’s rooted to the spot.

“you should’ve just killed me.”

author’s note:

not really sure how I feel about this one tbh. I have plans for a part four, but I’m not quite sure how long I’ll be making this series.

and as for simon— I want to write an extra part about his thoughts/feelings about everything. let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in!

anyways, let me know your thoughts please :) (I honestly may end up deleting this and rewriting it when I’m not tired lol)

taglist: @preeyansha @igotmajordaddyissues @nanatheoaktree @aesthetic0cherryblossom @oceanicexolorer @soph121212 @liv2post @cupid-eclipse @angels-despair18 @k4marina

[no-144444]

marriage talk -o.piastri

summary: oscar answers random questions for mclaren's instagram, not once did he think it would take him down this road...

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

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“Would you rather get married, or get a tattoo?” 

The question had been eating at him for the past few days, pondering his answer in detail. Oscar wasn’t the kind of person to do things on a whim (although he definitely could), and his most trusted confidant was… you. His girlfriend. 

“What do you think about marriage?” he asked over dinner one night. You two hadn’t really thought about it before, only really mentioning the fact that sometime in your lives you’d both like to have children. 

You stared at him for a moment. “You aren’t about to propose in public, right?” you asked, the dread clear on your face. 

He chuckled, taking your hand. “No, shockingly I don’t think you’d like that.”

You nodded, your face one of relief. “Good, that would’ve been terrible,” you quickly took a sip of your drink. “But what about marriage?”

“Do you want that?” he asked, his heart beating out of his chest. 

You shrugged. “I mean… yeah? I like the idea of getting everyone together and dressing up. We’d have to do our vows privately of course.”

He laughed again, squeezing your hand. You were so private, yet you were dating one of twenty current F1 drivers in the world. “Of course.” 

“But… yeah. It sounds nice. Mr. and Mrs. Piastri,” you chuckled and he felt his pants tighten slightly, though he’d never tell you that. “What about you?”

I love the idea. I’ve been thinking about it non-stop since last week. I want to get a ring now. I want to be your husband. I love you so much. I want to see you in a white dress. I want to see you walking down the altar looking as beautiful as you always do. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’d like that.” 

“Who’s proposing?” you teased. 

“Me, obviously,” he rolled his eyes as you laughed. “Who says I don’t already have a ring?”

Your laughter died down and you just smiled. “Well, I’ll be expecting it now.”

He chuckled and raised your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it. “I’ll deliver.” 

“If you do it in public I’ll say no,” you reminded him and he nodded.  “I know sweetheart,” he smiled. “I know.”

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